Pressure built in Frederick’s throat and behind his eyes, but he would not cry. Chamberlains did not cry. “I came here a coward, George. I can’t leave here as one.”

George took the feather from Frederick and ran it between his fingers, straightening out the bent spine. “You think being scared makes you a coward? What kind of rubbish do they teach you at Eton? That soldiers aren’t scared? We’re living beneath the front line of a war. Only a fool wouldn’t be scared. What matters is you came here anyway, and when your crew needed you, you were there for them, despite being scared. That’s real courage, Eton. And if that doesn’t make your father proud or get your name engraved on the wall of that fancy school of yours, you let me know.” He lifted the feather. “I’ll carve your name on the bloody wall myself.”

Sniffing back unshed tears, Frederick smiled. “You don’t know how to write.”

“I have no doubt you’ll make sure I spell your name correctly.”

Frederick laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am.” George tucked the feather in his unruly hair, so it stuck up like the plume of a hat. “You should wear this with pride.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Probably, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right.” He handed the feather back to Frederick. “That feather may have brought you to the front, Eton, but your courage has kept you here.”

Frederick tucked the feather behind his ear. “Who knows? Maybe it’s a new style that will catch on here in the trenches.”

“Absolutely. Especially after we blow the ridge and become war heroes. Everyone will want a white feather just like yours.” George lit a cigarette and sat beside Frederick.

“Do you really think the army will reveal what we’re doing?” Frederick asked. “If we fail, they’ll cover up the work we did. If we succeed, they’ll want to keep our work secret to maintain the element of surprise over our enemies, so they can reuse the method under other battlefields. No one will know what we’ve sacrificed for crown and country.” He stared off in the direction of Bats’s and Bagger’s graves. “Or what we’ve lost.”

“We’ll know,” George said.

Frederick nodded.

“So,” George asked, “will you write to your dad about James?”

Frederick nodded again and then opened his notebook and wrote a brief letter to his dad explaining where he was and the situation with Thomas’s brother. When he finished, he pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes and turned to a fresh page. “What about the second letter?”

“I need you to write me one, like you did for Tommy and Mouse, and if things go wrong, I need you to deliver it to someone for me. And you have to promise not to tell anyone about this.” He held out his hand. “Do I have your word, Eton, as a real soldier?”

Frederick took hold of George’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “No, you have my word as a secret soldier.”