Eleven Eleven - By Paul Dowswell Page 0,20

also urge you to be prepared for further gas attacks. The bombardment this morning resulted in the loss of Private Atherton, who died gallantly saving the horses in his care. I would remind you all that, even though we may cherish and care for the packhorses, they are not worth the life of a trained soldier. Thank you. Rest easy.’

The men were issued with hot coffee – or something approaching it. Jim came and sat down next to Will. ‘I’d like you to come with me,’ he whispered. ‘I want to keep an eye on you. And if you volunteer it’ll impress the others. Make them think you’re not shirking. So if I’m easy on you later, they’ll be more likely to let it go.’

‘Is it going to be dangerous?’ asked Will.

‘Who knows?’ said Jim. ‘Fritz probably won’t have men in the forest. But going in there to look will probably be safer than taking part in a frontal assault on the town.’

Will nodded. When Jim stood up soon after to ask for his patrol volunteers, his younger brother was the first to raise his hand. Other men followed suit.

‘We’ll set out in half an hour,’ said Jim. ‘Leave your packs here. You’ll just need your weapons.’

Just then, Richardson came up to Jim and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. He got up and left the other men on their own. Will suspected the lieutenant had asked Jim to help him with his letter to the parents of Private Atherton.

Jim had told Will that Richardson had the same formula for every letter. Regardless of the usual gruesome circumstances, he would say the man died quickly from a shot to the head, or a shell blast that killed him in an instant. He even told the parents of the men who had been shot for cowardice that they had been killed on the battlefield. That was a kindness no one could argue against.

And Richardson would also say he had been well liked by his comrades, even if he was a constant whiner or a shirker. ‘I try to dissuade him sometimes,’ Jim told Will, ‘especially if the man was a bloody pain in the backside. I’ll say, “He was a sour old sod, sir. His mum won’t recognise your description.” But Richardson always says, “Can’t kick a man when he’s down, eh, Sergeant?” and he’ll insist we keep it. I’m not sure that’s right. If you know your husband or your son’s one of life’s miseries, then hearing they were the life and soul of the party is going to make you wonder if they really did die as quickly as you’ve been told.’

Will wondered what Richardson would write about Atherton. He kept himself to himself. The men had often joked that he liked the horses more than his human comrades.

When Jim returned, Will’s squad were sitting round a wood fire bare-chested, going through the daily ritual of delousing their shirts. The fire was blazing away, but it was still a freezing business. You roasted at the front, froze on your back.

How to get the lice out of his shirt was one of the first things Will had learned when he came over to France. His ‘Special Preparation Against Vermin In The Trenches’, from Boots the Chemist, had been useless. Destroying lice was far more complicated than simply rubbing ointment into your uniform. Along with his rifle and ammunition and iron rations, they’d been issued with a candle. One of the lads had joked, ‘What’s this for? Romantic dinners?’ He’d been put on a charge for that. They soon found out. The only thing that got rid of lice was fire. You lit the candle and then ran the flame over the seams, the places where the lice gathered in their hundreds. There was quite a skill to it, killing the lice without setting your shirt alight, or singeing it so badly the material ripped when you put it on. You knew you’d killed them because they exploded with a little pop. When the men were all sitting together, doing their delousing, it was almost like a miniature machine gun going off.

As they formed up for the forest patrol, Will looked around at the other volunteers. There was Ogden and Binney, who had both come out with him in the spring. Before they had boarded the train down to the Harwich ferry, they had all been issued with live ammunition, and Ogden had actually leaned out of the window and