‘I stood by the Irish officer as his men tried to dig to find deeper, more secure cover. Their shovels pushed into the yielding dead bodies of the men they’d fought earlier battles with. Human flesh, putrefying and stinking, was bonded to the mudbanks to remind them that it was no good. It was never any good. Whatever they did. If they got through one scrape, inevitably they’d be caught in the next.’ Howard glanced at her; she was pale to the point of transparency, her eyes and mouth agog and wide. ‘Do you want me to go on?’ She didn’t respond, but now that he had started talking about it, he found he wanted her to know. He wanted everyone to know. If they’d seen it, they’d hate war too. If they hated it enough, it would stop. Wouldn’t it?

‘A directive came from some absent generals that we had to clear out this deathtrap. The sappers mined under the roadway towards the redoubt, while our heavy artillery shelled the Germans. The mine was detonated on the twenty second of July. Our boys squatted down, utterly terrified after such an extended period of anxious expectation. The land was cracked by a blast of fire, and spewed up a commotion of sod, rocks and limbs. Our men stayed squatting as German boots and hats, legs and heads fell like rain about them. When the soil and smoke settled, we could see that the enemy’s stronghold no longer existed. In its stead was a vast crater, a gouged and yawning gap. Our men were ordered to rush the crater. Rushing was unachievable; they staggered into it. Knowing that it was suicidal. They did so because orders have to be followed, above all else. They lay there panting like dogs in the smouldering earth. Waiting to be picked off.

‘Our generals had asked for trouble and, of course, our men got it. Incensed by the annihilation of their strategic position and, no doubt, the men guarding it, the Germans began a manic assault on our trenches. Machine-gun fire blasted with such ferocity that our men were tossed about and danced long after they were dead. The smell of gunshot and blood drenched the air for days—’

‘Stop, please stop.’ A single tear was falling down her face. He appreciated the neatness of her reaction. He didn’t want her to weep hysterically. It would have been unseemly somehow, and she knew this too. He caught the tear with his thumb and tasted its saltiness.

‘But I have only told you of a week’s action.’ He said it gently, but he felt a hardness in his chest. No one over here could stomach it. That was the point. No one knew how vile it was until it was too late.

‘Don’t go, please never ever go there.’ She grabbed hold of his hand and kissed it with something akin to rage, over and over again, as though she was storing him away, sucking him up. ‘Just stay. Stay safe. Stay here with me,’ she pleaded.