Eleven Eleven - By Paul Dowswell Page 0,19

rummaging in two sacks on their backs, unpacking the masks the animals had to wear. In the panic, one of the men knocked over a pail of porridge. It spread over the ground like a great grey steaming cowpat.

Will had had the misfortune to be close to one of the gas shells. Too late he saw the green mist creeping towards him as it mingled with the morning fog. He got an acrid whiff of it before he could put his mask over his face and immediately began to cough. Pulling the mask on he tried to calm down and breathe as he had been instructed. But his eyes were watering and stinging terribly and he felt hot and cold despite the near-freezing morning. Worst of all, he thought he was going to be sick.

He breathed as deeply as he could through the caustic gas-mask cylinder and willed every atom in his body not to do what he knew he was about to do. It was coming up from the pit of his stomach like a great unstoppable wave. At the very last second he flipped the mask up and wretched on to the ground. A second later he pulled the mask down to take in another lungful of air, retching again immediately. He willed himself not to panic. If he inhaled his own vomit, and had another coughing fit, he would surely be dead. Fortunately he had yet to eat his breakfast and had had little to eat the previous day. It ended there. He sat down clammy with sweat as the waves of nausea gradually subsided.

There was a light wind, which helped disperse the gas, and the rain was coming down more heavily now, which also helped. Jim quickly mustered the men to get them to move away from the gas. As they left, Will saw the fellow who minded the horses lying on the ground. He thought he was dead until he began to cough in hideous spasms. The horses were wearing their masks and looked on impassively. Their minder had left it too late to put on his own. Will tore his gaze away. It was like watching a man drown before your eyes.

Will guessed the gas was chlorine or phosgene. He was grateful it hadn’t been that terrible mustard gas he had heard about. That was the one that attacked your skin and eyes, blinding and blistering. He didn’t want to think about what it did to your lungs.

‘Fall in,’ said Jim, when they had reconvened several hundred yards down the road. ‘Lieutenant Richardson wants to have a word with you all.’

The men waited in their ranks, while Jim went to tell the lieutenant his soldiers were ready. He hurried over, anxious to have kept them waiting. That was nice of him, thought Will. He had known officers who would keep their men waiting for ten or fifteen minutes and then stroll over without a care in the world.

Will looked at the platoon lieutenant in his officer’s outfit. It all seemed too big for him. He wondered if Richardson’s parents had minded spending all that money on the Sam Browne belt and the short sword. Front-line officers, it was well known, had the briefest life expectancy. Will felt sorry for him, and admiration too. Richardson had moved heaven and earth to get them hot rations, and held regular foot inspections to ensure none of them developed infections. It was quite a thing for a young man, barely more than a boy, to command the respect of these men. Will knew Jim thought well of Richardson too.

‘I have just heard from Divisional Command,’ their lieutenant told them in a loud, clear voice. Richardson knew how to address a squad of soldiers with clarity and confidence. ‘We are to attack the town of Saint-Libert to the east of this position at ten ack emma, following a half-hour artillery bombardment. As you know, we have American soldiers stationed on the other side of the woods to our right and they will also be attacking the adjacent village of Aulnois at around the same time. We are expecting light resistance but I would urge you all to show caution and not to risk your life unnecessarily. Prior to the attack I have asked Sergeant Franklin to take a small group of volunteers to these woods to the south of here, to check they are clear of enfilade fire or any other enemy activity that would hinder our advance. I