lots of Moose }aw boys, so I caught them up on the news from home
.
Nothing prepares you for this. The racket from the bombardments is terrible, and it makes it very hard to sleep never knowing when a shell will land. The Scots we relieved were ragged. Hope we don't look like them when we're done. The Huns are really putting on the pressure. We get the “stand to” command every twenty minutes or so. We stare across no-man's-land, and no man
—
or Hun
—
crosses it. But they will, soon, I bet. They can't be shelling us just for pleasure
.
We play cards in between. I've won a comb, two eggs, and a can of tobacco. I'm rich! Saw my first Hun yesterday. He was out clipping the wires. I took a pot shot at him, and boy, did he run scared. I also received a nice packet of sweet biscuits and fruitcake from home. God bless my wife! Suddenly everyone was my best friend. Wish I could have saved you some
.
Anyway, it's a mess in the trenches, but we make our home as best we can. We know our duty
.
Funny thing, you're on the east coast, right? All you'd need to do to visit is hop a boat. I make a fine cup of tea these days
.
Hoping all is well,
Your friend,
Paul
I stared at the letter. Paul wasn't training horses, piling stacks of hay, or shoveling horse dung. I folded the letter and stuffed it in my kit bag.
I shivered in my greatcoat as I walked to the horse barn. My infantry skills were rotting away. I went inside and discovered that fifty-eight's stall was empty.
I hunted down Corporal Grimes. “Where's fifty-eight?” I asked.
“You're supposed to be feeding and watering right now.”
“But my horse—the horse— Fifty-eight is gone.”
“I sent him and four other geldings to yeomanry last night. They'll knock his stubborn streak right out of him.”
“But I …”
“But what, Breaker?”
I shook my head. “I should return to my duties, Corporal.”
“Exactly.”
Back at the stable I stabbed the hay with my fork, filling the troughs. I wished I could have said good-bye. My friend was at the front and my horse was gone. What had been the point of signing up in the first place? I might just as well stayed at home and looked after livestock.
That evening I went to the regimental sergeant major.
“What are you here for, Bathe?” he asked. He was a small, turtle-like man. I was surprised he remembered my name.
“I want a transfer back to my old unit, Major.”
“Corporal Grimes says you're a fine breaker.”
“That's kind of him, Major, but I could be of more use at the front.”
“You're needed here, Breaker.” The words echoed in my ears as I walked back to my hut.
I lay on my cot and tried to picture Hector, but all I could get was a bit of an impression of his face, as though he was fading from my memory. Every day was taking me farther away from him. I wanted to know what he'd said over here, what he'd done, who he'd chummed with. I reread the letter from his regimental sergeant major. Since Hector had been his batman, he'd have known him the best.
I pulled out my pen, ink, and paper and wrote:
Dec. 23, 1917
Dear Regimental Sergeant Major Gledhill
,
I am writing because I am Hector Bathe's younger brother. He spoke very highly of you in his letters home. Thank you for your thoughtful letter about his death. It was hard news, but my father and 1 were comforted by your words about his attention to duty
.
I know you are very busy with your work, but if you do find a moment 1 would like to know about Hector's time in your battalion and about his final hours. He was a very good brother, as you can imagine, and 1 miss him terribly. You can write to me at the address on the envelope. I am in Remount right now but hope to be back with the infantry soon
.
Thank you for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Edward Bathe
I took the envelope to the mailbag, all the time wondering if Gledhill was still alive.
I collapsed on my cot, and as the other breakers snored, I closed my eyes, imagined
.
Nothing prepares you for this. The racket from the bombardments is terrible, and it makes it very hard to sleep never knowing when a shell will land. The Scots we relieved were ragged. Hope we don't look like them when we're done. The Huns are really putting on the pressure. We get the “stand to” command every twenty minutes or so. We stare across no-man's-land, and no man
—
or Hun
—
crosses it. But they will, soon, I bet. They can't be shelling us just for pleasure
.
We play cards in between. I've won a comb, two eggs, and a can of tobacco. I'm rich! Saw my first Hun yesterday. He was out clipping the wires. I took a pot shot at him, and boy, did he run scared. I also received a nice packet of sweet biscuits and fruitcake from home. God bless my wife! Suddenly everyone was my best friend. Wish I could have saved you some
.
Anyway, it's a mess in the trenches, but we make our home as best we can. We know our duty
.
Funny thing, you're on the east coast, right? All you'd need to do to visit is hop a boat. I make a fine cup of tea these days
.
Hoping all is well,
Your friend,
Paul
I stared at the letter. Paul wasn't training horses, piling stacks of hay, or shoveling horse dung. I folded the letter and stuffed it in my kit bag.
I shivered in my greatcoat as I walked to the horse barn. My infantry skills were rotting away. I went inside and discovered that fifty-eight's stall was empty.
I hunted down Corporal Grimes. “Where's fifty-eight?” I asked.
“You're supposed to be feeding and watering right now.”
“But my horse—the horse— Fifty-eight is gone.”
“I sent him and four other geldings to yeomanry last night. They'll knock his stubborn streak right out of him.”
“But I …”
“But what, Breaker?”
I shook my head. “I should return to my duties, Corporal.”
“Exactly.”
Back at the stable I stabbed the hay with my fork, filling the troughs. I wished I could have said good-bye. My friend was at the front and my horse was gone. What had been the point of signing up in the first place? I might just as well stayed at home and looked after livestock.
That evening I went to the regimental sergeant major.
“What are you here for, Bathe?” he asked. He was a small, turtle-like man. I was surprised he remembered my name.
“I want a transfer back to my old unit, Major.”
“Corporal Grimes says you're a fine breaker.”
“That's kind of him, Major, but I could be of more use at the front.”
“You're needed here, Breaker.” The words echoed in my ears as I walked back to my hut.
I lay on my cot and tried to picture Hector, but all I could get was a bit of an impression of his face, as though he was fading from my memory. Every day was taking me farther away from him. I wanted to know what he'd said over here, what he'd done, who he'd chummed with. I reread the letter from his regimental sergeant major. Since Hector had been his batman, he'd have known him the best.
I pulled out my pen, ink, and paper and wrote:
Dec. 23, 1917
Dear Regimental Sergeant Major Gledhill
,
I am writing because I am Hector Bathe's younger brother. He spoke very highly of you in his letters home. Thank you for your thoughtful letter about his death. It was hard news, but my father and 1 were comforted by your words about his attention to duty
.
I know you are very busy with your work, but if you do find a moment 1 would like to know about Hector's time in your battalion and about his final hours. He was a very good brother, as you can imagine, and 1 miss him terribly. You can write to me at the address on the envelope. I am in Remount right now but hope to be back with the infantry soon
.
Thank you for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Edward Bathe
I took the envelope to the mailbag, all the time wondering if Gledhill was still alive.
I collapsed on my cot, and as the other breakers snored, I closed my eyes, imagined
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