Charlie Philips
Till yesterday I wasn't anybody, just another soldier. Then Lieutenant Bell got himself killed. That left me to take over. The first thing I had to do, the Major said, was to sew a pip on each shoulder. But that was easier said than done. This French weather was so cold and damp it was all you could do to hold on to your rifle. The men, my mates yesterday, stood in the dirty muddy trench and stared.
"It's still me...Charlie Philips. These make no odds," I said, pointing to the insignia clipped onto my lapels with safety-pins. Nobody spoke. They just continued to stare, their eyes red-raw from lack of sleep. It suddenly occurred to me that they were all so young. Their faces were etched with fear; some trembled, others chewed at their dry lips.
"I didn't ask 'em to do this."
At that moment a shell exploded. Everyone ducked. We were showered with clumps of earth and bits of rock. Billy Marshall was crying.
"Shut up Billy," I said. "crying aint goin to do you any good...now is it? Just keep your head down. Your Janet wants to kiss those stupid lips of yours next Christmas."
He nodded, and a faint smile crept across his face. He wiped the tears from his cheeks leaving a trail of mud over his nose. It was beginning to get dark so I hoped that was the last shell of the day.
"Listen boys, I've got to go and see the Colonel now, so while I'm gone a couple of you keep your eyes and ears open. The rest of you get some grub going. Billy...you make the tea. I'll be back shortly."
As I turned and ran, half-crouched through the mud and water, I thought about how yesterday I only had my life to worry about.
Colonel Roberts picked up his small brown cane and pointed to a black line stretched across the top of a large map pinned to the wall. I was taken aback when I first entered the dug-out to find the Colonel looking so clean. You'd have thought he'd just come out of the officers mess, he wasn't even wearing a steel helmet. He stood out like a sore thumb as the rest of us were dirty and dishevelled.
"This is the enemy lines," he said. "And we're going to over-run them tomorrow morning. Gentlemen, I want you to have your men ready at dawn. I've received the go-ahead for a frontal assault."
I couldn't believe what he was saying. Was he mad? Without thinking, I said,
"Excuse me sir." Everyone turned and looked at me. Beneath the dirt on my face I went red. The Colonel still had his stick pointed at the map as he looked in my direction.
"Yes?" he said.
"There isn't much cover between us and them sir," I said. A low murmuring began as the other officers looked between the Colonel and me.
"Lieutenant, I haven't asked for questions yet, and when I do that is not the sort I want to hear. Do I make myself clear?"
I felt embarrassed and stupid. After all, what did I know?
"Yes sir..."
He turned away and continued with his plans. As time went by, and his ideas became clearer, I began to feel sillier and sillier, especially when he said there would be an artillery barrage for an hour before we went over the top. This, he said, would all-but destroy any resistance. It would, at the very least, seriously impair the enemy's ability to fight back. When he finished speaking, there was spontaneous applause. I clapped as well. It's going to be easy I thought.
The first mouthful of Billy's tea told me this lad needed a wife, someone who at least could make a decent cuppa. I'd gathered the platoon sergeants together and passed on the Colonel's plan.
"We will be the first to go," I said. "The Colonel said It would be an honour for us. We can lead the rest of the battalion. We'll be there before anyone. It'll be up to us to take them prisoner. Imagine how proud they'll be at home boys, when they find out?"
I was so excited I struggled to sleep. Even the bitter cold and constant drizzle couldn't take the shine from the pride that swelled up in me. In the last letter I'd received from Jennifer, she'd told me how the girls were asking when I was coming home. I couldn't sleep. I decided to reply. I'd probably be too busy in the next few days anyway.
'Darling Jennifer,' I began. 'Tomorrow is going to be the proudest moment of my life. When I tell you that I'm goin to lead the battalion in the morning and eventually capture the enemy. I know you’ll be proud. Till we meet again, remember, there is a kiss in every word I write for you and the girls.'
Thankfully the rain had finally stopped as Jennifer was tucked into her wheelchair by her eldest daughter, Mary. The middle-aged woman pushed her mother through the gleaming wrought-iron gates of the military cemetery.
"Lets go and find dad?" she said. "He's here somewhere...they say."
In front of them as far as they could see were row upon row of white crosses. Mary stopped and leant forward.
"Which row is it mum?" she said taking the crumpled piece of paper from Jennifer's grasp.
"Ah...it's 16H," she said into her mum's ear.
Fifteen minutes later, the two women had stopped beside a white cross with the words 'Lt. C. Philips' inscribed on it. Mary stooped beside Jennifer.
"Here he is mum."
She looked into the vacant face of her mother staring straight ahead.
"I promised you'd be together again one day, didn't I?"
