From the City, From the Plough by Alexander Baron

Author:Alexander Baron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Historical / World War II
Publisher: Imperial War Museum
Published: 2019-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

As soon as Alfie came into sight of the camp he knew that something was wrong. At midnight the camp should have been dark and silent; but above him, on the hillside, there were lights, there was the sound of movement, voices, hut doors slamming, the engines of lorries warming up.

He walked down the lane and turned into the camp, filled with dread. Men were stumbling past him in the darkness with cases of supplies and ammunition on their shoulders. The transport park was filled with noise and activity, headlamps blinking, tailboards banging, men’s steel-shod boots crunching on the cinder surface.

In the hut, at midnight, it should have been dark; two rows of men silent and asleep and the corporal, in the bed by the door, turning over somnolently as he came in and mumbling, ‘That you, Alfie? Don’t make a noise. Good night, boy.’

But the hut, as he entered it, was lit. The men were sitting on their beds, assembling their equipment, cramming grenades and clips of ammunition into their pouches, stuffing their belongings into their small packs.

Before anyone spoke to him, Alfie knew. Niagara Falls was coming down on top of him and the end of the world was nigh. Lance-Corporal Feather came into the hut with half a dozen full, dripping water-bottles and passed them to their owners.

‘Hallo, Alfie boy. You’re just in time. Get packed. Battle order. The battalion’s confined to camp until further notice as from midnight. We have to be ready to move off tomorrow at a half-hour’s notice.’

Alfie sat on his bed, bewildered, unbelieving. His hands fumbled with belts and buckles while he tried to halt the reeling confusion inside his head and to cope with what had happened.

Tomorrow evening. Floss waiting at the bus station, clutching her handbag with both hands; the six o’clock bus coming in, and the six-forty, and the seven-ten, and Floss still waiting, agonised with fear and bewilderment, but still waiting. I might have a baby. That’s how they get babies, isn’t it? Who cares if we have a kid? Everybody has kids. I’ll come round and ask your mum properly. We’ll go out next Saturday afternoon and buy a ring. Tomorrow evening. Where would the Fifth Battalion be tomorrow evening?

Niagara Falls was coming down on top of him and the end of the world was nigh. Alfie Bradley tested the action of his rifle, slamming the gleaming bolt a dozen times into the breech. He slipped back the safety-catch and loosened the sling. The rifle was ready for use.

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