‘I’m sure I could drive an omnibus if someone taught me,’ she said. She quite liked the idea but he grew so angry at her suggestion that she abandoned the idea and like everyone else simply prayed that the conflict might soon be all over.

One morning in early December 1915 as Tom was preparing the horses, he noticed Hugh Tate standing at the edge of the trenches smoking a cigarette. For now, all was quiet but Tom knew that this could change at any moment and he watched Tate from the corner of his eye. An early-morning mist floated above the frost-coated field and all that could be heard was birdsong, so Tom was making the most of the peace. But it didn’t last long and all too soon the shout went up and the men began to pour out of their hiding places and march towards their enemy with their rifles raised as the sound of gunfire filled the air.

Tom saw Tate hesitate as an officer drew alongside him. ‘Well, go on then, man!’ the officer roared as he nudged Tate with his rifle. For a second Tate hovered, then suddenly he turned and ran in the direction of Tom as fast as the cloying mud would allow.

‘Halt, I say, or I shall fire!’ the enraged officer screeched but Tate was beyond reason now and was in a blind panic. And then Tom could only watch as the officer raised his rifle and aimed it at the would-be deserter.

‘This is your last chance, Corporal Banks. Stop now or I shall fire!’

So … he’s using a false name is he? Tom thought.

Completely disregarding him Tate ran on until suddenly the officer pulled the trigger. Tate jerked like a puppet on a string, a look of pure shock on his face, then with a grace that would have done justice to a ballet dancer he slowly dropped to his knees before falling face first into the stinking mud.

Greatly shocked, Tom gulped deep in his throat. It wasn’t the first time he had seen this happen with other young men who had lost their nerve, but knowing that this was Cissie’s son affected him badly. She would be devastated to learn that her firstborn had died a shameful death. But then the officers were all around him, mounting their horses, and he had no more time to dwell on it until the last of his charges had been ridden away. When he next looked towards Tate’s body it was to see a huge rat feasting on the hole in his back, and turning quickly from the sight, Tom emptied the contents of his stomach into the mud. It was an image that would haunt him for the rest of his life, along with all the other horrendous things he had been forced to witness.