Day by Kennedy A. L

Author:Kennedy, A. L. [Kennedy, A. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Fiction, War, Literary, War & Military
ISBN: 9780307268679
Google: F6FNfK75X04C
Amazon: 0307386317
Barnesnoble: 0307386317
Goodreads: 6988780
Publisher: Vintage Books USA
Published: 2007-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

drop

Once he’d calmed himself, the being a stretcher-case job was not half bad. Alfred was bumped about and clattered down here and there for the best part of the day – with tea breaks now and then and lunch. He lolled his head when he was told to and even groaned a little, although that wasn’t actually required.

Towards four there was a sudden shower, the air filling with the tang of wet dust and running. He’d flung off his Red Cross blanket and then watched as the film people hurried their equipment under cover and his people scattered to take in their laundry. Amazing how much washing got done in the camp – partly to balance the lack of new clothing, but partly, Alfred thought, because cleanliness made you respectable and gave you something to take charge of. Not that your bunk mates wouldn’t bind on appallingly, anyway, if you were slack with your personal hygiene.

And we all wanted the wash-day smell: the one about being back home and taken care of.

Alfred still did his own washing, ironing, wherever he was.

You can’t beat a well-pressed shirt.

As if anyone bothered about it beyond you.

The rain hardened, raked across the roofs while Alfred still sat on his stretcher, slowly unwound the bandage from his head and set it at his side, the fake blood in it weakening under the downpour, becoming a general, salmon-coloured stain.

Then the first impact of thunder started off to the north-east.

Only weather, nothing bad.

A thin slash brightening and closing, another couple of deton-ations – the storm was coming to them.

Alfred made sure to get up slowly and then walk towards what they called Pall Mall – the lane between huts that led up to 27, which was his own. Hail started and another barrage from not far beyond the trees, it seemed, but he kept to an even pace. To either side, shutters were being fastened, windows closed, from a half-open door he could hear slightly nervous laughter.

A lot of us don’t do well with bangs, not now.

The sky lifted above him and slammed shut, blitzed him to his knees in spite of his better intentions and he knew he was shaking again, badly. A tearing raced above him like shellfire, before the air burst and then slammed shut again.

Bastards.

Volley followed volley and he pressed his fists into the sand, tried to rise up, stand under it. This took him some time.

Bastards.

His thumbs cramped and, when he finally rose to his feet he couldn’t help reeling over towards a hut wall, finding cover.

‘Lips that once were mine, tender eyes that shine,

They will light my way tonight.

They will light my way tonight,’

The rest of the route would take two or three minutes. That wasn’t long.

‘They will light my way tonight.’

The hail subsided, rattled to an end, and left him back under simple rain.

‘They will light my way tonight.’

He was sweating, greasy with it.

When he passed the end of the hut a movement to his left disturbed him and he dodged back before he could think.

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