Thomas shifted from one stockinged foot to the other. How was he to know if he was doing his job if Bagger didn’t tell him what that job was? And why keep the mission a secret, especially from the soldiers ordered to carry it out?

A secret can be a friend or a weapon, Thomas. Take care how you use it.

Staring up at Bagger, Thomas had no doubt the secret of their mission was a weapon; he just hoped he wouldn’t find himself on the wrong end of it.

Bagger stood before Frederick. “What about you, Eton? Any more questions or commentary?”

“No, sir—Bagger.”

“Blimey, Eton! King George hasn’t knighted me yet. Call me Bagger if you want me to respond.”

George failed to stifle a laugh.

Frederick’s cheeks bloomed bright red, but he bit back any retort.

“The rest of the crew is already at the tunnel face. When we get down there, you’re to help haul spoil and timber. When you’re not hauling, watch and learn. Follow your supervisor’s lead. I’ll signal when you can break for a quick bite or to use the latrine. Otherwise we’re working straight for eight hours, so I hope you got plenty of rest. You’re going to need it.”

Frederick glared at George, and for a moment Thomas feared he was going to tell Bagger about them sneaking into the trenches, but Frederick said nothing.

“All right, ladies. Follow me.”

As the boys trailed Bagger into the tunnel toward the first shaft, George called over his shoulder. “Don’t forget your supervisor, Eton.”

Cursing under his breath, Frederick returned to the dugout to fetch Feathers.

ELEVEN

THOMAS HATED WORKING in silence. It squeezed the tunnel and stretched the hours, but he started praying for silence when the first artillery shell hit. The explosion aboveground echoed like distant thunder in the gallery and trembled through the earth, shaking loose clots of clay that rained down from between timber beams onto the tunnelers’ bowed heads and hunched backs.

Frederick let out a startled squeak and ran for the shaft ladder at the first blast, but George, who had returned with a timber beam, blocked his escape. Charlie covered his ears, and Thomas dropped his sandbag and threw his arms over his head. He remained in that position, waiting for the explosions to stop, but they continued to pound the battlefield. He had no way of knowing whether the artillery shells were being fired from the cannons of the Central Powers or the Allied forces, but he knew it didn’t matter. If a shell hit directly above them, whether it be English or German, French or Austro-Hungarian, the explosion would inflict the same amount of damage.

As the barrage of artillery fire increased and the tunnel walls and ceiling continued to tremble, Bagger handed Thomas his dropped sandbag and motioned for the boys to keep working. Thomas quickly filled his bag and ran to the ladder. He hurried up the shafts to the tunnel entrance, eager to be free of the quaking gallery. When he handed a sandbag to one of the PBIs, the soldier told him it was the Allies who’d started the firefight and that they tended to last for hours.