A few moments passed, and I started to realise that each time the older officer wrote something down, the soldier he was facing would fall out, and join a newly formed squad. I was out of earshot so I couldn’t hear what the officer was questioning the soldiers about; I didn’t think much of it, as this was reasonably normal procedure. I saw two of my friends fall out and make their way to the new squad. They looked scared and anxious, their little identical faces tense with uncertainty glanced back at the squad before marching off to their new one. This, for some extraordinary reason made me burn with envy. I felt as if I was missing out on something and although I didn’t know what it was, I still wanted to do it. After a while of watching more and more soldiers moving towards the new squad, it made me wonder whether it was because they had good uniforms. I wanted to join them, my jealously was building up. My cheekbones were tensing randomly and anxiety was filling my insides as if I had just been injected with some kind of poison.
As the two officers drew ever closer, all I could think about was getting into the new squad. Pearl shaped sweat droplets ran down my forehead, stopping only at my eyebrows. My brain started to hurt from thinking too hard on what was going to happen. They were now three soldiers away from me; the officers were questioning him, I couldn’t understand what about, but shortly after he too joined the scared looking bunch in the new squad. They were now by the scruffy looking soldier next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that his hands were pale white and clammy. He looked very young to be here, but so did I.
I was only sixteen, I had lied to get in, and it was something I couldn’t resist: joining the army, wearing the uniform, and holding a rifle. For Queen and Country they told us, and I believed them. The Officers looked him up and down, and to my surprise they said nothing about it. I was so surprised by this that my mind wondered and missed a major part of the conversation. Shortly afterwards he too was sent off to join the other squad. Quickly, before they came to me I glanced down at my shoes; they were, as always both equally polished with mirrored caps. My welts were likewise, clean and polished, but I was still nervous.
The two Officers stood in front of me. The one I had never seen before was a good two inches shorter than the Flight Lieutenant, but displayed many more colourful badges and medals on the left breast pocket of his uniform. His face was a pale yellow, which gave the sense of an unhealthy illness. His eyes, still bright and alert were a deep shade of brown and saddened. The scars on his face, some still pink with freshness, sickened his already beaten condition. My eyes came to rest on an L-shaped scar above his right eye, and as I wondered how he had got it, my eyes met his and I quickly glanced forward, forgetting completely what I had been thinking.
“Name, rank and unit soldier?” The Officer’s voice was coarse and uneven.
“Corporal John Smith from 66th Parachute regiment.” The words came without even thinking, sharp and accurate. There was a pause, and only then did I realise that the light reflecting off my rifle was no longer aimed at the floor, but onto the Officer’s chest. I wasn’t sure if he had realised but all I could do was wait and hope he didn’t step forwards. They stood there in front of me, facing me with a questioning expression on both their faces. A dark rain cloud passed overhead, engulfing the sun and blocking out the little light that was left of sunset. The shorter Officer started scribbling frantically again so my mind went back to wanting to go into the new squad. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Yes Sir!” I shouted, before he had a chance to speak, anticipating his question. The urge was too strong and I was sure of what he was about to ask.
“Yes Sir?” Replied the Officer, stunned at the quickness of my voice. He seemed somewhat angry and hesitated a little.
“Yes Sir I do want to go.” My body was now tingling, I trembled at the knees, but I still kept still. The Officers smiled back, like the evil character in a film would when he carried out his plan. A quick image burst into my head of these two men cackling horribly over an evil scheme.
“How old are you?” he replied, with a questioning tone.
“Sixteen Sir,” I said.
“Sixteen? You must be nineteen to go over there”. He signalled to other squad. “Tell me again, how old are you?”
“Nineteen Sir” I lied. I could feel my face blush with embarrassment and shame, yet I was happy I was allowed to go.
“Very well.” He grinned. I stood to attention, saluted and marched towards the new squad. My heart was pumping. I was excited yet scared. I had no idea why we were detached or where we were going.
The sun had fallen but there was still light. It began to rain. The heavy rain droplets pounded the ground, making a soft rumble. In the distance I could see a long black trail if what I thought was dark clouds. As it grew closer I saw that the trail was actually made up of people. Soldiers were returning. Closer and closer they got, and now I could see that these weren’t the same, happy, cheerful men that I saw leave to France. They were all dirty, and sick. Some had the same sadness in their faces as the older Officer. The lucky ones had bandages covering their wounds, as for the ill fated others, their wounds were still fresh, as if waiting for infection. Others were limping along or being carried by others, for they had lost one or both their legs. They stumbled past me, the scent of death in the air as they did so. I watched them go past and in turn gazed at their faces. It was as if they were haunted. They had eyes I had never seen before. It was as if death had come, but spared their lives. Now their skulls scarred with images of the horror that was out there. The excitement died within me. My eyes dropped. I couldn’t bear to watch. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of me. I felt faint. So much death, so much pain. Only then did I realise where I was going. By agreeing to go, I had just sentenced myself to death. I was leaving, leaving to die. Die, all because I thought I felt brave in my uniform, all because it was what all the posters said. Only then did I realise that war wasn’t a game that can be won by victory, only by loss.
