Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Intoroduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EITHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- CLIMATE EMERGENCY
- Copyright
She looks at me in shock, then something that might be pity, then finally anger. Then she leaves.
‘Alright, Josh, maybe don’t be quite so charming next time, eh?’ Alan laughs.
*
Last lesson that afternoon is English. My head is aching and I’m ridiculously thirsty, excusing myself twice in Ms Yawl’s Geography lesson so I could suck at the water in the bathroom tap like my life depended on it. I’m hoping Mrs Burgoyne will let me sit quietly like she normally does, but maybe because I have to ask to borrow a pen and some paper (I forgot to bring my schoolbag), she has other ideas.
‘Josh, your point of view on the narrator in Thomas Hardy’s poem last week was very interesting. Could you explain it to us, please?’
‘Pardon?’ My voice catches in my throat, so the word comes out half gurgled and half squeaked.There’s a short roar of laughter from the class.
‘Thank you, everyone.’ The class settles again quickly. Mrs Burgoyne has a habit of never raising her voice, so every time she almost threatens to shout, everyone goes very quiet. ‘You said that you questioned the narrator’s professionalism, Josh. How so?’
‘I can’t remember, Miss.’
‘What a pity. I’ve got your homework here. You say that he lacks professionalism. Your words, ‘the job of any soldier is to do their duty and protect their country. If insidious sentiments like friendship start to cloud the soldier’s judgement, he is unable to perform his duties effectively.’ What does insidious mean, Josh?’
‘It means bad and getting worse, Miss.’
‘Quite so. You don’t think that recognition of one’s enemy as human is a fundamentally human response in the soldier’s situation?’
‘I don’t know, Miss. I’ve never been to war.’ I want to ask her whether the man who murdered my dad looked at him in the second before detonating his backpack. Did he recognise him as human?
Mrs Burgoyne continues, her voice cutting through the small ripple of laughter from around the room. ‘You don’t think that the soldier could have been coerced or manipulated into signing up? We looked at the propaganda from the first world war last week – dehumanising the enemy, turning the whole thing into sport – couldn’t the soldier’s attitude be a realisation of “the old lie”?’
Mrs Burgoyne raises her arms and conducts the class through a slow intonation of dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘But…’
‘But what, Josh?’
I want to say something about how the soldier was clearly a willing participant, and that Mrs Burgoyne didn’t know the first thing about being a soldier in a war you didn’t know you were fighting. But I don’t. Instead I say, ‘It’s just … I think that the enemy should be dehumanised, really.’