‘B–but I–I’m all r–right—’ He gave up trying to speak and retreated to singing, to calm himself down.

‘“It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go … It’s a long way to Tipperary …”’ He rocked back and forth in time to the tune.

‘Of course you are, old man. You’re as sane as the rest of us.’ In the bed opposite, Captain Jeffers lit up a cigarette and settled back against the pillows, a mocking smile on his face. ‘But let’s look on it as a bit of a holiday, shall we? A chance to get away from all these ghastly wounded chaps.’

Grace looked across at him. He was a handsome young man, fair-haired with an aristocratic, high-cheekboned face. He liked to present a louche, untroubled demeanour to the world. But Grace had changed too many of his damp, soiled sheets every morning to be fooled. He was being transferred to Wilson ward with the rest of them.

Most of the men who were being transferred were too far gone to understand or care what was happening to them. They submitted like lambs, their faces and limbs twitching, looking up at the orderlies with vacant eyes.

At the other end of the ward, Private Gordon was as agitated as Lance Corporal Frost. But at least he had Albie Sallis to help him.

‘Calm down, mate. They’re sending you next door, not to Timbuktu!’ Albie joked. But Grace could see his smile was strained with worry as he looked at his friend.

‘It’s not that he minds going,’ he explained to Grace. ‘The silly sod’s just upset I won’t be with him. Isn’t that right, pal?’ He turned to Gordon, who nodded. ‘I’ve tried telling him, it’s not a place for the likes of us common folk!’ He grinned. ‘And it’s not like I won’t see you again, is it? I’ll come and visit you as soon as I’m up and about. I’ll come and play whist with you, how about that? That is, if you can take another beating!’

Gordon laughed, a strange, gurgling sound deep in his throat.

Just then, the orderly arrived with a wheelchair.

‘Look, your chariot awaits! Talk about travelling in style.’

As the orderly started to lift Gordon off the bed, Albie turned to Grace and said in a low voice, ‘You will take care of him for me, won’t you, Nurse?’

‘I wish I could, Corporal Sallis. But I’m afraid I won’t be moving to the new ward.’ Then, seeing his stricken face, she went on, ‘But I’m sure Dr Carlyle and Dr Logan will take good care of him. And I’ll try to pop in as much as I can to make sure he’s all right.’

‘Thanks, Nurse.’ Albie sent Gordon an affectionate look. ‘I’ll miss him, y’know. Still, at least I can get a good night’s sleep now, without him whooping and hollering all the time!’

Gordon was very subdued as the orderly helped him into the wheelchair. But when they went to wheel him away he broke into noisy sobs.