‘Oh, Mum, those poor men! I know we read about what they suffer in the newspaper and hear it on the radio, but nothing can prepare you for actually seeing it. And they’re all so brave.’ She went on to tell her mother about Jimmy. He had died within an hour of his mother arriving, almost as if he had been waiting for her, and Kathy had cried unashamedly. It was such a waste of a young life, but Jimmy was only the tip of the iceberg. Thousands of young men just like him were dying daily and still there was no end to the war in sight. Still, she consoled herself, at least she was doing her bit to help now, and she still had her adorable twins to come home to. No one could stay sad around them for long.

‘Corporal Branning, get up this instant. What’s wrong with you!’ The officer standing at the end of Ben’s bed was rattling the iron footboard irritably, but Ben was almost oblivious to his presence as he lay there shaking. He was soaked with sweat and the officer soon realised that something was seriously amiss.

‘Get over to the hospital and ask one of the doctors to come over and take a look at him as soon as possible,’ he barked to the young corporal standing beside him. ‘And in the meantime, you’ll have to deal with the horses. He’s clearly in no fit state to.’

‘But, sir …’ The young man looked concerned. ‘I ain’t got the foggiest idea how to handle horses.’

‘Then learn!’

‘Yes, sir!’ The young man saluted and turning about he fled out of the hut.

Fifteen minutes later he was back with David in tow, but the officer had long gone about his duties.

‘It’s this chap here,’ he told David. ‘His name is Ben Branning.’

David started. ‘Ben Branning did you say?’ His mind was working overtime. Wasn’t Kathy’s half-brother called Ben? The one that had run off after stealing all Sunday’s money?

Pulling himself together he leaned over Ben and asked, ‘Are you feeling ill, old chap?’ But he didn’t really need to ask. He could see at a glance what the problem was. This chap had shell shock, or battle fatigue as they were now calling it. He was shaking convulsively, and his eyes were wide and staring so the only thing he could do was recommend that he be shipped home until – or if – he recovered.

‘Name?’

Somehow Ben managed to answer him. ‘B-Branning … Ben Branning.’

‘And where are you from, Branning?’

‘The Midlands … Treetops.’