They smiled, looking utterly terrified. It had felt like they were embarking on a great adventure when they left home, but they weren’t feeling quite so brave now that they were faced with the stark realities of war. Most of them looked to be little older than babies, barely old enough to shave, but then his eyes were drawn to one older chap – and his stomach churned.

It was Hugh Tate, Cissie’s son – and he was the double of his father.

Once the initial shock of seeing him had worn off Tom was consumed with anger. If the handkerchief he had found at the scene with Hugh’s initials on were anything to go by, he was the one who had attacked his defenceless mother and left her for dead. He was a coward, just as his father had been before him.

As yet, Hugh hadn’t noticed Tom watching him and was gazing about with a hunted expression on his face, clearly terrified of what lay ahead of him. And so he should be, Tom thought, but he felt no sympathy for this chap; he deserved everything that was coming to him – and more. The young men quickly claimed the empty beds, nodding towards Tom in a friendly fashion, but Hugh kept himself to himself, which suited Tom just fine. The least he had to do with him the better as far as he was concerned.

He watched as Hugh unpacked his kitbag and stuffed the contents into the bedside locker. He then withdrew a bottle and took a hefty drink from it just as the sergeant strolled in and barked, ‘Right, you lot, let’s have you outside. You aren’t here for a holiday. I want to go through the drill of what will be happening first thing in the morning with you. You’ll be up at five and over to the dining tent then back here and kitted up before you’re taken to the trenches. You’ll do twelve hours on and twelve hours off – if you’re lucky enough to come back, that is. Now look lively and line up and try and look like soldiers, eh? We’ve no time for nancy boys here, and any of you that decide you’ve had a change of heart, forget it. Once the shout goes up for you to move out of the trenches and attack comes, any of you that decides to do a runner will be shot for the coward that he is!’

The pasty-faced youths and Hugh were lined up along the side of the tent now as the sergeant strolled along inspecting them, but Tom couldn’t hear what was being said now because some of the chaps who had just finished their twelve-hour shift were stumbling inside and heading for their beds. They were all covered in mud from head to toe but were so traumatised and exhausted that they simply dropped onto their blankets as they were, the only colour showing on them being the whites of their eyes. Tom quietly crept amongst them shaking their blankets out and gently covering them before retiring to his own bed. His day would begin at five the next morning as well and he intended to get as much sleep as he could before the nightmare started again. It was easier said than done with the sounds of explosions and gunfire echoing all around him, but he had learned to cope with it now and soon he slept.