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
THIRTY-ONE
AN HOUR LATER, the crew had removed the body from the tunnel, and the boys went looking for Thomas. When they didn’t find him in the dugout, George asked Bagger if they could take Max for walk.
“Find Tommy, Max!” George said when they exited the tunnels. The terrier raced through the communication trench past the reserve trenches toward the fields behind the Allied lines. When the boys caught up to Max, he was curled up in Thomas’s lap beneath the elm tree where they’d buried Feathers. The month of May had ushered in warmer temperatures and sunny skies that coaxed thousands of poppies from the fertile ground. The small red flowers carpeted the field. Thomas petted the dog’s head in distracted, halfhearted strokes. His hand paused between the terrier’s ears when he heard the boys approaching.
“It’s not James,” Charlie said, sitting down next to him.
Thomas picked at the clumps of blue clay clinging to the worn knit of his soiled socks. “I know. But for a moment I thought—”
Frederick sat to his other side. “Bagger notified the Fiftieth that we’d found one of their men. They helped remove the body, and their corporals identified the soldier.”
“It was a bloke from Alnwick,” George added.
Thomas’s shoulders sagged with relief. “But it could have been James. He could be buried under that battlefield, and if he is, I’ll never find him.” Tears slid down his cheeks. Embarrassed that the others were seeing him cry, he tried to wipe them away, but they only came faster, so he gave up and let Max lick them from his face. “James never should have joined this stupid war. He should have stayed home. Our parents and sisters needed him. I needed him. And now I’ll never see him again.”
Charlie reached up and rubbed his brow to shield his own tears from the others. He was no better than Thomas’s brother. No, he was worse. James had left his family to earn enough to build them a better life. Charlie had left for no one but himself.
“We’ll find him, Tommy,” George said.
“But you said the chances of him surviving this war—”
“I know what I said, and I shouldn’t have.” George dug the toe of his boot into the soft soil.
“But you were right,” Thomas said. “That could have been James. Next time, it could be me. What if I don’t make it home? For the rest of their lives, my parents will be wondering where I am and what happened to me. It’s been torture for them not knowing what happened to James. How can I do that to them again?”
“Are you thinking of leaving?” George asked.
“I can’t, can I? Not without admitting I lied. Besides, we have a mission to finish.” He turned to Frederick. “But before I go back in those tunnels, I need you to write a letter for me.”
Frederick stood. “I’ll be right back.” He returned minutes later, notebook and pen in hand, and sat down next to Thomas. “What do you want me to write?”