Slaughter Fields by Thomas Wood

Author:Thomas Wood [Wood, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-15T23:00:00+00:00

8

We continued the monotonous cycle of smoking, taking watch and sleeping for what felt like days, but in reality, wasn’t anything more than a couple of hours. It was only just approaching six in the morning. I had been awake for over twenty-four hours.

No one seemed to say anything, apart from the odd grunt at one another to take over on the fire step, or to take a peek over the top with a periscope that the sergeant had managed to nab from somewhere.

We had been informed that sandbags were on their way to us soon, as well as a Vickers that we would be able to set up to better defend our section of the line. I imagined the top brass and the quartermasters sprinting around, trying to find anything and everything that we could use to consolidate our position somehow. We were all having the same thoughts, so it didn’t come as too much of a surprise when one of us sparked up a random conversation.

“I tell you what would help to shore up our position here,” grumbled Beattie, his cigarette bobbing around furiously within the grips of his lips.

“What’s that?”

“All them brass hats up there, the ones that are meant to be commanding this horror show, give them a rifle each. It might do them some good to see what things are really like for us. Plus, I reckon there’s at least a few hundred of them up there, that could plug a gap in some of our losses. What do you reckon, Sergeant?”

He turned his head to Needs, as he came off his imaginary soapbox.

“I think,” Needs began, “that someone who wants to become an NCO needs to switch his filter on. There’s a time and a place for saying certain things. The brass will be doing all they can.”

I wondered for a moment if Needs actually believed in his own words, or if he was as dejected as the rest of us, merely trying to lift our spirits slightly in the face of everything that had happened.

“Oh, my filter is well and truly on, Sarge. There’s plenty of voices in this old head of mine that don’t make it out into the open.”

Beattie got a few nervous chuckles, but for the most part, they were short and polite, a blip of happiness before being dragged straight back down into the depression that was looming over all of us.

“The engineers are beginning to build a connecting trench from our old frontline, lads. Trying to consolidate our position.”

“What’s taken them so long to get started? Couldn’t work out which end to dig with their tools?” Beattie was on form all of a sudden and a few more, involuntary chuckles began to waft their way around the trench, from men that had nothing to be laughing about.

But he was right, we had taken this trench by eight in the morning yesterday, and it was now five thirty in the morning the following day and they were only just getting started.

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