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Waiting for the signal . . .

Thomas Waltham leaned the stock of his Enfield rifle against the rotting pine boards that kept the trench’s dirt walls from collapsing. One hand rested on the same board, and his other gripped the trigger guard.

Where’s Del Rey at?!

Thomas looked down the line. He didn’t make it with us, Sargent. Couldn’t get him out of his blanket this morning.

For heaven’s sake! We go over in fifteen minutes.

You want me to grab him for you, Sargent?

No, hold where you are. I’ll speak to him.

Del Rey sat in a mud puddle layered in a wool bedroll and held his rifle across his chest. He stared across the trench at the dark space between the wooden planks, inattentive as the Sargent came to him.

What the hell are you doing, Del Rey?

Del Rey shook himself from his trance.

I can’t do it, Sargent. I can’t go out there.

Why the bloody hell not?

I can’t face what lies over the top. I-I don’t want to die, I don’t want to be gunned down and left for the r-rats in the middle, or tangled in the wire as I bleed out.

Listen, Son, we’ve all got to go sometime.

Not me, not today.

Yes, Son. We have to do this today. Sargent grabbed Del Rey’s arm. Del Rey shook his grip loose and sank himself further into the puddle.

I can’t. I-I won’t. I’m not going to die t-today, not for the shit ground we’ll gain. Why should we care about this place anyway? It’s been blown to shreds, and every damn thing in sight that was living is now dead! Look: not a single tree or creature other than the damned rats.

Do you think that any of us want to face what awaits us on the other side of this trench, Son? Do you think that we all don’t have the same doubts that you have now? We all do. There’s thirty men waiting to jump the trench and charge into certain death, and every goddamn one of them woke this morning with little idea what was in store for them. But they went anyway. I kissed the photograph of my beloved wife and children for the last time today. I cannot promise you that you will make it to nightfall. Likely we won’t make it to the other side of that barren land alive, but it is our duty to do it, regardless.

I-I can’t. I don’t have it in me.

Ah, but you do, my Son. Come with me. You will find peace in it; if you stay here, you will not. It is better to die with courage than live in cowardice. Come on. Sargent offered a hand to Del Rey and helped him stand on his feet.

Del Rey grabbed his rifle, then the two walked together to the front line. There was a gloss in their eyes as they approached the soldiers resting on the wooden planks.

Five minutes, Sargent.

Thank you, Waltham.

Waltham chewed on a twig and rocked the bolt of his rifle back and forth in his palm.

A barrage of explosions began, growing louder as the impacts crept closer to the front line. Large clumps of dirt rained on the helmets of the soldiers. Some men flinched, but held their ground.

Down the line, a soldier vomited onto the trench floor.

What the hell, Riley?! You’ve gotten it on my boots, you wank.

Terribly sorry, George. The soldier vomited again, then wiped his chin. Sorry again, mate.

Fucking get ahold of yourself. Eck! George shook his boot left and right, flicking chunks of regurgitated stew across the trench.

Would you shut the hell up? Thomas Waltham shouted.

Up yours, Ninny. George gestured obscenely to Waltham.

Keep it together, you two. How much time do we have, Waltham?

Two minutes.

Good. Sargent removed his pistol from its holster and held it in his right hand. With this left, he lifted the silver whistle that hung around his neck and brought it to his lips.

The barrage continued, and the debris from the explosion became greater with every subsequent hit. A chuck of dirt struck a soldier and tossed him to the rear wall of the trench. He grunted in pain, then lifted himself and got back in position. He rested his rifle on the parapet and his opposite hand on the wall while he wheezed.

Not the first time you’ve found yourself on your arse in the thick of battle, is it Charles?

Up yars, Melville. Yoo try havin’ a slab of dirt slam in to yar head and see if you doon’t land on your bum.

A wee bit touchy, are we? I was just havin’ a laugh.

Well keep it to yerself, ya twat.

Excuse me for tryin’ ta lighten the mood before we go runnin’ to our deaths. You could take a lesson from me, really. It’s better to die laughin’ .

If we make it to tha other side, I’m gonna fuckin’ lamp ya.

If. I don’t expect ya ta go very far before gettin’ shot by that Spandau. Ya can hear da bloody things workin’ up there.

Fifteen shillings says I kill more Jerries than ya.

I’m in. Ya can’t shoot for shit, anyway. This’ll be the easiest quid I’ve made.

And ye are far drunker than I, so odds are still very well in my favor.

May the best man win, ye bastard.

Waltham looked at his pocket watch. Thirty seconds, Sargent.

Sargent nodded. Get ready!

Del Rey’s rifle shook in his hands. Waltham spat out the twig from between his teeth and gripped his rifle stock behind the trigger guard. Riley dry heaved, and George jumped in suspense. Charles grasped the center rung of the wooden ladder that led over the top, and Melville leaned on the wall nearby.

Then, the whistle blew.

-The Red Diamond

IV XXIX XXVI