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
Unaware of what Johnny, Richard, and Dan had shared with Thomas about the true fate of missing soldiers, George’s optimism about their secret mission never dimmed. He walked the trenches whistling and greeting every soldier they passed, but as days stretched into weeks, Thomas’s hope faded. He started to look forward to their shifts in the tunnels, away from the trenches and the constant stream of disappointment awaiting him there.
SIXTEEN
AFTER THREE WEEKS with the clay kickers, the boys settled into their monotonous routines. Frederick helped Bagger load the sacks of spoil on a trolley, which George, the unit’s trammer, pulled to the tunnel entrance.
While they waited for George to return with the trolley and timber, Frederick sat on the tunnel floor next to Feathers’s cage. The team’s canary was the only member of their unit foolish enough to make any sound, except for George, of course, who somewhere along his trip to the entrance and back always forgot about the crew’s silence rule and offered some ridiculous comment or uncouth joke on his return. His forgetfulness was answered with an icy glare from Mole and a swift slap to the head from Bagger.
Frederick was convinced that if George didn’t learn to keep his big mouth shut, he’d end up with a permanent impression of Bagger’s large hand on his skull. Not that Frederick thought it would matter to George. The London street rat would probably boast to anyone who’d listen about his misshapen, hand-imprinted head like it was a badge of honor.
While Frederick waited for George to return with the lumber, he ignored Feathers’s tiny chirps and watched Bats and Charlie huddle close to the tunnel wall. Armed with a notebook, pencil, compass, and geophone, Bats used the two mercury-filled disks attached to a stethoscope to listen for and track enemy movement beneath the battlefield. One hand signal from Bats, and the entire unit froze. No one dared breathe while they waited for the listener to indicate where the enemy was: to their right, their left, above their heads, or below their feet.
The moment Bats pointed out the direction, Boomer and Thomas abandoned their work helping Bagger fill sacks and quietly bored a hole into the clay wall in the direction of the enemy. The rest of the crew, including Feathers, retreated to a safe distance to protect themselves should the blast fire back into their gallery instead of through the wall into the enemy’s. With the hole finished, Boomer eased a cylinder charge called a torpedo into the opening. Thomas would then pack the opening behind the explosive with sandbags to direct the blast toward the enemy and away from the crew. Work was performed swiftly and silently—that is until the torpedo exploded, and everyone prayed their gallery would hold and the enemy’s gallery would collapse. When the dust settled, Bats and Charlie would listen for proof that the explosion had hit its mark. Silence meant success. Noises meant failure and that Boomer and Thomas had to quickly bore another hole before the Germans detonated their own torpedo.