Across the Cold Ground by Oisin McGann

Author:Oisin McGann [Written and illustratedby Oisín McGan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

The men spread out, and soon Charley found it hard to see the others around him through the murk. The whistling and crashing of the artillery was still close enough to drown out most sounds, but he could hear the clatter of machine guns and the bee-like whine of bullets shooting past. Mick was close by, and they both staggered on through the muck, their fear climbing over them as they drew closer and closer to where they knew the first German trench would be.

They kept their heads down and kept walking, their rifles held in front of them. Shells started falling closer. They still couldn’t see much through the pall of smoke, but some of the explosions went off close enough for the two lads to feel the whump of the blasts through the air. This couldn’t be their own guns – it had to be German artillery, aimed at the advancing British forces.

Charley tried to think of nothing. He kept his head down and kept walking. Bullets cut the air around him. The shells exploded ever closer. Then he was stumbling through the stretches of barbed wire in front of the German trench. He crouched down, taking out his cutters. Mick held the tangled wire as Charley snipped his way through. It took time. The shells were deafening as they burst the earth around the two young soldiers, but the smoke was working in their favour. They couldn’t see the Germans, but the enemy couldn’t see them either.

“The machine guns are nowhere near us,” Mick shouted over the noise, wincing as dirt showered down on them from a nearby blast. “There must be none in this part of the trench!”

Charley nodded. They were finally through the last stretch of wire. With their rifles levelled before them, they jumped up and ran full tilt through the fug of smoke at the German trench, screaming like animals to try and unnerve the men they were coming to kill. Charley got there first, trying to stop before he went over the edge, but slipping in the snow-covered mud. He lost his helmet as he skidded on to his backside and slid feet-first over the lip of the trench.

It was a long drop, and he landed badly, overloaded with heavy kit. He cried out as his ankle twisted painfully, but was up in a crouch in an instant, rifle raised, aiming one way, then the other. Mick came crashing down beside him, cursing loudly. Moments later, he too was up on one knee, rifle at the ready.

The trench was empty. It seemed slightly quieter here too than it was up top. The explosions sounded further away, and the smoke gave the place a haunted feel. They waited there, back to back, their breath pluming in the cold air. They waited for the enemy soldiers they knew must be here. The protective walls were destroyed in places, but the trench had survived the bombardment remarkably well.

“This is a good trench,” Charley said, looking up at the walls.

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