Up on the fire step, a soldier from the Royal Welch Fusiliers is cutting into our barbed wire, making a path for us all to march through at dawn. He mutters under his breath as he shears through, using cutters he tells us he bought himself from the Army and Navy Stores while on leave. There’s something about this second lieutenant, with his strong features, high forehead and cleft chin. Before he shuffles away down the trench in search of the next fire step, he shares a fag with me and introduces himself as Siegfried. Some kind of poet or painter, I think.
After he’s gone, I mount the step myself and peer out. Danny is at my side, as he has been almost every moment of the past week. We’re at one of the narrowest patches of No Man’s Land here and, due to the fact the guns have been paused for a few minutes to allow the wire-cutters to do their work, I get my first really clear view of the German line in days. The landscape steams in the aftershock of the bombardment, coils of misty smoke drifting across its haunted terrain. Between them, I glimpse a thick forest of barbed wire – undamaged. It appears to smile back at me, tigerish teeth grinning in the dark. I snatch up my field glasses to confirm what I already know in my heart.
‘Not a yard of it,’ I murmur. ‘For Christ’s sake, not even a yard!’
‘What’s the matter?’ Danny asks.
We swap positions and I pass him the binoculars. He thumbs the focus wheel and I see his jaw tighten. ‘Why wouldn’t they listen?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘But they will tonight.’
We report our findings to Captain Jackson who, stern-faced, immediately approves our request and within moments we’re hurrying out of the line. The passage through the communication trench is almost indescribable. A thick stew of men squeezed tight into the channels of the earth, shoulder-to-shoulder, bellowing breathlessly at each other, then surging forward as a gap opens up before them. Wave after wave, pushing, prising, tussling, tumbling towards the Front, and Danny and I like trench rats, squirming in the opposite direction.
At last, we emerge from the sunken road and almost fall over our own feet, giddy with the sense of freedom. We draw down lungfuls of smoke-seared air and hurry on. Past the rose-smothered house and the old French church with its overflowing cemetery where we buried Arthur Morse. On, on, the sky behind us rent by shells. On, until we reach the chateau and the guard at the door. This time I don’t wait for permission. I simply tell him that I have vital information for Lieutenant-Colonel Gallagher and push my way into the house. After a little searching we find Captain Beddowes alone in G Room, the chateau’s old library.
The Snake glances up from the table where he sits among a heap of paperwork.
‘Lieutenant Wraxall and Private McCormick. This is a surprise. Aren’t you supposed to be elsewhere this evening?’
I don’t have time for this. Crossing the room, I plant my hands on the desk. ‘We need to see Gallagher. Now.’
The captain lifts his bandaged hand, as if to twirl that comical moustache, before suddenly realising he’s a thumb and a finger short. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible. The colonel has retired for the night.’
‘He’s gone to bed?’ Danny boggles. ‘The night before we all go over the top?’
Beddowes shrugs. ‘I’m not sure why you think the colonel’s sleeping habits are your concern, Private.’ He gives us both a cool look. ‘But then I suppose other gentlemen’s bedtime activities interest some more than others.’
‘Get him up,’ I say. ‘He needs to hear this. Captain Jackson sent us—’
‘Now, now, no need to look so murderous, Lieutenant. You can tell me your news and I’ll make sure the colonel hears it first thing in the morning.’
‘That’ll be too late,’ Danny snaps.
Beddowes spreads his hands. ‘It’s the best I can offer.’
‘The German wire opposite our positionhasn’tbeen cut.’ I try to keep my tone level. ‘I’ve seen it with my own eyes, every yard is still intact. If we go over the top tomorrow, we’ll be held up trying to cut our way through. The Germans snipers will have all the time in the world to pick us off.’
‘I think not.’
‘And how would you know?’
‘Even if the wire remains largely intact, and that is a bigif, the Germans must be pretty much entirely wiped out by now. Seven days of bombardment. Nothing can be alive out there now.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Danny mutters. ‘You arrogant piece of—’
‘Private, enough,’ I say, grabbing his arm. I turn back to Beddowes. ‘Their trench systems go deep, just like we told you in our reports. Please, Captain,listen.’
His serpentine gaze switches between us and he licks his lips. ‘Tell you what, Wraxall, I’ll make you an offer. We haven’t seen eye to eye, but I appreciate both your bravery and your brains. I could pull a few strings and get you into a reserve trench this very night, far behind the line. You probably wouldn’t have to go over the top at all. What do you say, old chap?’
He offers his good hand, smiling that oily smile all the while.
‘Stephen,’ Danny murmurs. ‘You have to—’
I see Beddowes’ smile broaden at Danny’s use of my Christian name.
I shake my head. ‘I think you told us once to go to hell, Captain Beddowes. Well, let me repay the compliment.’ I lean over the desk and the captain pulls back his hand sharply, fear sparking in his eyes. ‘Damn you for the coward you are.’
We leave the chateau without another word and begin the long march back. It’s only when we’re passing the old French church that Danny grabs my sleeve and drags me roughly across the graveyard, thrusting me against the covered doorway. He looks angry, but I don’t think this anger is the dark legacy of his mother. I believe it comes instead from his love for me. Tears shimmer in his eyes as he demands— ‘What were you thinking? That bastard was offering you a way out and you threw it back in his face. Why, Stephen?Why?And don’t you dare tell me it’s because of the rules or society or civilisation. I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I care aboutyou.’
