Contents (45)
- DULCE ET DECORUM EST
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- 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
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- CONTENTS
“Don’t mind George,” Tommy told Charlie. “He likes to hear himself talk, nonstop, all the time.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Thomas.”
Charlie tucked his bloody fingers under his legs and lifted the corners of his mouth in what he hoped was a passable smile. “I’m Charlie.”
Thomas pulled back his hand, surprised by the deep timbre of Charlie’s voice. For a mouse, his voice was less squeak and more rumble. “Good to meet you, Charlie.”
“You too. I’m sorry I didn’t help before. I…” Charlie didn’t have a good excuse, so his voice trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.
“It’s not your fault we almost missed the train. We ran into someone looking for George on our way to the station.”
Remembering the cop chasing the pair on the platform, Charlie considered the strong possibility that George might not have suffered his injury during his jump onto the train. As he pondered what type of trouble Thomas and George might be in, Charlie noticed Thomas looking over his uniform.
“You part of Major Norton-Griffith’s new recruits?” Thomas asked.
Charlie nodded.
“Us too. I don’t remember seeing you with our group at Regent Street.”
“I was trained with recruits in West Ham,” Charlie said.
Thomas turned and looked toward the front of the train car, where George was enjoying a laugh and cigarette with a group of older soldiers Thomas didn’t recognize. “Norton-Griffith’s recruiters must be training men all over London, if you can call what we did for the last two weeks training. Did you get a weapon?”
Charlie shook his head.
“Neither did we. Makes you wonder how they expect us to fight the Germans. March them to death?”
Charlie smiled. It felt more genuine. He hoped it looked it. He’d wondered the same thing during his short training. Aside from the uniform, he felt no more a soldier than he had before he skipped his shift at the factory, lied about his age, and joined Major Norton-Griffith’s recruits headed to fight on the Western Front.
He looked back out the window as the train pulled away from the crowded London streets. Charlie had never known any place but London. He’d been born there and always thought he’d die there, most likely at his father’s hand. As the train snaked its way through the surrounding countryside, London shrank on the horizon until it vanished from view. Charlie wondered what awaited him on the Western Front and what Major Norton-Griffith had planned for a gang of underage, undertrained, unarmed soldiers on the front line of the war they were saying would end all wars.
FIVE
THOMAS JOLTED AWAKE at the sound of the train whistle heralding their approach to the station in Belgium. Stepping over George’s outstretched legs, he made his way to the back of the car. He knew James wouldn’t be waiting for him at the station, but he wanted to see the country he’d be calling home for the next several months.
He slipped out the door and stood on the grate. It would be hours before the sun rose, but he leaned over the side railing and looked toward the front of the train. The sting of the cold night wind racing along the train drew tears from his eyes, but he kept them open, searching for any sign of the Allied front. Along the horizon, the night sky pulsed with brilliant white and yellow light. A thunderous rumble followed each flash, like a distant storm.