It didn’t help anyone’s morale that it had been raining endlessly. The countryside had been bombed to a desolate wasteland. Everywhere he looked, there was rubble and mud and death. . . He had no words to describe what it felt like to struggle forward through the sludge, with shells and incendiary bombs exploding all around – how the pounding that shook the earth seemed about to burst his eardrums and get inside his head. It drove men to insanity. The air was heavy with tear gas and shell smoke; the stench of rotting flesh, animal and human. Men were falling wherever he looked, some only wounded but choked to death as they were sucked into the sticky, stinking slime. They were all soaked to the skin with rain and blood.

Stephen was just about at the end of his tether when the whole division moved out of line and a relief took over. This was done at nightfall. The rain had stopped at last, the sky was clear and a full moon was rising. As they marched away from the front, they saw a military cemetery. The white stones were lined up in rows and the graves seemed to march with them, eight by eight, all the way along the road. An army of ghosts. It gave Stephen a bad feeling. The booming of the guns was reverberating through the air and echoing in the valleys.

When the journey was over, they were allotted their quarters; a roomy barn on the edges of a wood. The village was empty, the people and livestock killed by mortar fire. The houses were rubble and the barn was just about the only building standing. It was clean, with plenty of straw and after the filthy conditions they had been living in, it seemed like The Ritz.

Equipment was taken off and there was a pump with running water, so they were able to get rid of their unwanted beards and lice and have a proper wash – a great relief. For the first time in a long while, Stephen let his guard down. There was a vegetable garden just outside the barn and he had noticed a few vegetables growing, so he decided to make a stew for the lads. He gathered wood, dug up the vegetables and prepared the ingredients. He put in some bully beef for extra flavour. The men enjoyed it, washing it down with tea or rum to keep out the cold. An owl hooted in the distance. The moon was large and clear, casting a soft coppery light on their faces. Someone had a banjo and songs were sung.

Mother, I’m feeling hungry and I want my bread and milk

Your prodigal son is coming home

With their bellies full, the men were looking forward to a decent night’s sleep.