“Hey, with us around those ruddy Huns will run right back with their tails between their legs to the Kaiser!” Frank yelled as they ran through the fields towards the village. The land around them was losing its grip on summer, the leaves were turning and the air was fresher. They loved autumn; it gave them an excuse to act as children again in the great piles of golden leaves that would accumulate!
At the top of the hill they stopped and looked down onto the unusually busy village. A great multitude of people was gathered in order to sign up and assist in the war: men pushed and jostled trying to get further forward in the throng of people but only to find themselves further back. Herbert was astounded, he’d had no idea that there were as many people living in the village. Frank grinned; this was the day he’d been waiting for, longing for: with a whooping cry he darted down the steep slope followed enthusiastically by Herbert and William.
Frank’s brow crinkled in pain and he moaned softly: a gaping wound marred his side. Herbert and Charlie sat by him, the bed amid many others. As Herbert looked around, he noticed a particular young man no older than his nephew, bleeding profusely. A violent convulsion shook the young soldier’s body and all movement stopped. Herbert shuddered and turned away, only to be faced with more death, pain and ruin. Struggling to contain his anguish he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.
“How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, regretting it even before the words had escaped his lips.
“What a question…better for you two being here with me; I wouldn’t want to end up all alone like that old chap there!” Frank said, waving his wand to the adjacent bed and chuckling. His eyes crinkled up in pain and he grunted.
A nurse almost dead with fatigue came to the bed and checked the wound. She quickly changed the dressing. “It’ll do,” she stated and continued on her rounds.
“That’s the second time she’s said that,” mumbled Frank. Charlie and Herbert were not sure whether he was talking to himself or to them; they knew exactly what was coming next though. Frank looked from Herbert to Charlie, then from Charlie to Herbert and said softly, “How bad is it?”
“It’s bad. I’m so sorry Frank…” Herbert stopped; he didn’t know what to say.
“We’re sorry that William couldn’t be here,” Charlie said, “We know how much you meant to each other.”
“Well, I suppose it won’t be long until I see him again. Ma always said we would do everything in pairs…I didn’t know that it was the same in dying too.” A year ago he would have laughed at this, but there was no laughter in his face, just a tiny hint of a smile because he would see his dead brother again. “Goodbye old chums.”
“Are you coming?” Charlie asked Herbert, placing a hand gently on Herbert’s shoulder. “It’s time to go home.” Herbert blinked back tears and looked over the surrounding land.
“Such beauty, such tranquillity; scarred forever and for what? If I could turn back the clock four years I would be happy, untroubled. I would be sitting by the hearth with Flora’s cat curled up in my lap,” Herbert whispered top himself. With a heavy heart he turned his back on the fields of France and boarded the train.
The train was busy, melancholy men bubbling over with pretence of happiness and glory. Herbert withdrew into himself, trying to collect his thoughts. In his letters home he had told so many lies. Guilt spilled out of him as tears, silent and flowing freely. Frank had been so positive about the war, but his life had been ended horrifically by the one thing he’d fantasised about. Herbert thought of William, willing to give up his own sanity for the ties with him and his twin brother. Herbert smiled as he thought of his beloved friends but cringed as he remembered that William had been shot for cowardice- he had lost his mind because of the constant shelling.
“Come on Herbert,” Charlie said, sitting down beside him, “It’s over now; we can breathe a sigh of relief.” Herbert turned to him, cheeks streaked with tears, and smiled.
