Hugh pushed a small locket into Paddy's hand, "If anything happens give this to me missus." Above the roar of the barrage Paddy could not hear him but he knew what he meant, he looked at the tiny photograph of Liz.
"You'll be alright little man, I'll see to that, you just stay with me." He clenched his fist and pushed the locket deep into his breast-pocket.
The shells fired from far behind their own lines to race screaming and splitting above their heads suddenly ceased. The air cleared rapidly to reveal a beautiful Summer sky, little clouds scudded across a bright blue expanse but the sudden silence was as unnerving as the roar of battle.
"What's going on then eh?" shouted one of the men to the officer on the parapet.
In a toffee-nosed accent he corrected him, "Do you mean what's going on SIR?" but added, "Sappers have been busy. They've been tunnelling towards Fritz for months," a runner passed him a message, "FIX BAYONETS!"
"Here we go Pad," Hugh's voice was drowned by the sound of hundreds of bayonets sliding from steel scabbards and being locked into position.
The joker began a few bars of the Crusaders favourite song, the words were simple enough, "We're here because, we're here because, we're here because we're here..." repeated over and over to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. None of the other men joined him but some did begin to hum along, it was a beautiful sound as they waited in the horrible silence. It was too much for one youngster, hysteria gave him the strength to force his way through the press of men.
"Mum! Mum! Help me Mum!" he screamed and dropped his rifle into the mud.
"Halt or I fire!" yelled the officer on the parapet raising his pistol.
"Hold on! Don't shoot!" shouted men from below, "someone get hold of him."
But their attempts were too slow, the officer shot the man between the shoulder-blades. "Medics!" A stretcher was passed over the heads of the assembled men and the body was taken up.
"Swines!" Paddy spat.
The men began to murmur amongst themselves.
"He's shot Walter Pritchard's lad, b-----d, Let him have it Robbo!" someone called.
"Silence in the ranks!" yelled the officer sensing the unrest.
"or I fire!" mimicked a man beneath him. The situation was very tense, Hugh and Paddy clenched their knuckles on their 303's.
"I'd just as soon put a bullet into that there feller as into the Hun," said Paddy. The unrest amongst the men told of the same sentiment. The tension ended when one man shouted out, "Eh up, RATS!" A rat fell down into their trench. It was followed by another and another until soon the lip of the trench was a moving line of dark, slimy bodies as the fattened rodents slithered and fell downwards. Men lashed out with their heavy boots or tried to stamp the vermin into the filth. Some of the men received nasty bites and yelled in pain. "Get 'em Rags!" they urged their pet dog. Rags didn't need to be told, it tore after the rats, with a bite and a shake of its head it killed even the biggest of the vermin.
"Something's told them there fellers something's up," said Paddy quietly. They watched the rats dive into the dugouts darting desperately deeper. "Christ! There it is!"
An explosion from a huge land-mine far beneath the earth disembowelled the German trenches. Mountains of debris were propelled far above them; a horse's head, a wheel, artillery pieces, tree stumps. The shock wave hit and buffeted ear drums until they bled, the ground under their feet shook. The sky was blackened and ripped apart, it seemed it could never recover. Hill 17 was totally obscured by the wreckage of war.
"OVER THE TOP!" screamed the officer, gesturing furiously at all the remaining men with his pistol.
Over the rickety duckboards and up the ladders they went.
"Keep the line!" yelled the officer catching up with the heavier laden men.
Not one bullet was fired towards them, "Jerry felt that one!" shouted Paddy. They ran forward together, over the bodies of their fallen comrades, ignoring the cries of the wounded and the arms raised for help; slipping, falling and tripping across the desolation until they reached a section of barbed-wire. Jagged, knifelike spikes the thickness of a man's thumb halted them.
"It's not broken! The gun's haven't done their work!" Men cried in despair as they ran backwards and forwards seeking an opening, anywhere to get through the twisted metal strands.
AIf Fritz has survived this is going to be messy,@ Paddy told Hugh.
A whistle attracted their attention, they ran towards it.
"Through here!" ordered the officer. A gap had been found. He stood there, waving his pistol, goading the men to press forwards, to carry the attack into the German trench. "Come on you men, into the breech!" he roared at the top of his voice.
"That there feller's a bloody fool," said Paddy, so many men were being wedged into the gap that only a trickle were able to pass through. A single shot rang out, it was the high-pitched crack of a .303, the officer's body turned head over heels then dropped to lie grotesquely in the mud.
"Let's get the hell out of here!" shouted Robbo. But the men in the gap were packed too tightly, hampered by the mud and their heavy packs they could not budge.
"Get yerself behind me Hughie, I can see what's goin' to happen >ere.@
Hugh watched as the mass of men buckled and dissolved as heavy machine-gun fire tore into them, they were flung like rag dolls as the wall of lead struck. Paddy was one of the men who took a bullet. He jerked back against Hugh knocking him down, covering him with his body. The sky erupted as explosions rent the air and white-hot metal from mortar and grenade shredded itself. The attack was forgotten as men sought to preserve their lives.
Beneath the body of Paddy squirmed Hugh, wiping the mud and the gore from his eyes he moved until he was able to scream into his ear, "Paddy! Paddy! Where are you hit?" Frantically he turned his friend's head so that he could look into his eyes, "Paddy! Are you alright?" a faint flicker of life blinked back at him. "Let's be getting you out of here." He reached round his waist and unclasped the buckles of his webbing releasing water-bottle and ammunition. Bullets were zipping everywhere as he took hold of Paddy's greatcoat collar and dragged him a short distance towards a shell-hole. The mud allowed Hugh to slide the dead-weight of Paddy along, after several jerks they slid into the hole and came to rest in its slimy bottom. The screams and yells of their comrades told of others less fortunate than themselves.
Hugh opened Paddy's battledress, his tunic and shirt were staining crimson, as he stared into the wounded man's eyes he saw that same glazed look he has seen in the eyes of men hit by sniper fire and knew his friend's time was running out. "You'll be alright you great idiot, it'll buy you yer ticket back to Blighty.@
He took off his pack then carefully wriggled up the muddy slope trying not to put his hands anywhere that bore the stain of battle. When he raised his helmet slightly above the rim of the shell-hole he saw a horrific sight. There was no longer a gap in the wire, the bodies of his friends blocked it. With shattered spirit he sank back into safety.
"We're only a grenade's throw from 'em Pad but we'll be alright, most of the other lads made it," he choked as he said the words, he knew that if he survived he would never forget what he had seen. AWe'll keep our heads down until it gets dark."
Paddy's eyes rolled slowly round in their sockets, he looked at him, "Don't yer be worryin' about me now, I'm not goin' anywhere."
Hugh knew better than to argue, "Let's get you comfy then, it's going to be a long wait." He took off his greatcoat, covered his friend with it, then lay down at his side. Above them the battle raged in all its fury but beyond it the sun rose in the sky and it grew hot and warm.
"Thirsty Pad? let's get you some water should we." He took his canteen from its pouch and by soaking his handkerchief was able to squeeze drops into Paddy's mouth. His fear kept him talking, he talked of trips to Blackpool, "Remember the time you missed the last charabanc and had to sleep on the promenade?" he laughed at the memory; and spoke of old Nick the grouch of Copperfield Street who would wake up in the n
ight and shout out at the top of his voice, "Is anybody there? Can somebody tell me if I'm awake?" He felt Paddy's head, it was cold and clammy, peeling back the greatcoat he saw the bright red patch of blood had grown. Panic forced him to talk even more, "Paddy, me and my Liz have been thinking that we should buy a little place in the country and grow vegetables, keep a few chickens for eggs, maybe a cow for milk and what we don't use we could sell. Davey could have a horse of his own and he'd grow up in a lovely clean place. You could join us Pad, if you want that is, your mum would probably be glad to get rid of you!" he laughed at that point. "Tell you what Pad, we could have a place by the sea and if we had a little boat we could go out everyday and catch a few fish. The four of us wouldn't need much would we."
Paddy did not make a murmur, Hugh panicked, APaddy, you still there?"
"Aye lad, give us...smoke," he croaked.
Hugh reached into his breast pocket and drew out his tobacco, pipe and lighter, he packed a pipe, pulled on it then held it to Paddy's mouth. Paddy could not draw on it so Hugh took some into his own mouth and blew it softly into his friend's. High above, above the shell-bursts and cordite the blue sky beckoned, Hugh thought he saw something and held a hand to his eyes to shield them from the blasts and flares which burst all around.
"Paddy, up there. Can you see it? There's something up there." He tried to show him whatever it was but Paddy was unable to focus his eyes, they just rolled round, he was close to losing consciousness. Hugh lay back staring, "I'm not seeing things Pad, something's up there, something strange." He looked at his friend, his life blood was slowly ebbing away, "Maybe it's a guardian angel," he said dreamily.
It was late afternoon when the wind changed direction. There was an urgency in Hugh's voice, "Paddy, the wind's changed, they'll be laying down gas behind it!" but when he looked into his friend's eyes he saw that unless Paddy received treatment soon it would not be long before the life left them.
First came the smoke; an acrid, thick black cloud which billowed along hovering inches above the battlefield as if not wishing to add its filth to the foulness beneath it.
"They'll be adding the gas next, we're going to have to be getting out of here!"
He dampened their handkerchiefs and tied them into position over their mouths and noses.
"Soon as the smoke covers us we'll make a run for it!"
"Give me.. rifle, I'm stayin'."
Hugh did not answer, he returned his bayonet to its scabbard and prepared the rifle so that he could use it as a walking-stick to help them from the hole.
Unable to see their targets through the smoke the German gunners concentrated their fire in bursts through short arcs. Looking back towards his lines, Hugh saw other men rising from the ground, some helped their injured comrades to their feet, others struggled under the weight of wounded men. Screams of agony and pain rent the air.
"Let's be having you then Pad," said Hugh heaving on Paddy's lapels.
Paddy tried to speak but was too weak, Hugh pulled him into a sitting position then hoisted him onto his back. With his boots caked in mud and scrabbling for grip, ramming the butt of his rifle deep into the mud, he fought his way out from the shell-hole.
"Won't be needing that," he panted as the rifle was left stuck deep into the mud. The smoke engulfed them, "The Hun'll not be missing their chance," he gasped as the fumes soaked into his lungs. He staggered on moving as rapidly as he could dreading the thought that the unseen death might catch them. But it was not long before he felt a burning sensation on the back of his throat and knew it was something terrible. Heavier than air the gas filled hollows and depressions as it rolled along billowing after the retreating men.
Other men had already suffered its effects, they passed by crying out "Jesus help me!" or screaming in agony. Hugh heard retching and gurgling as they lay down to drown in water from their own lungs. Blinded and coughing he struggled through the hell away from the bursts of fire. Soon even the rattle of death stopped. Nothing could be seen, nothing could be heard save the crying of injured men wandering without any sense of direction until they fell. Through the eerie silence he strained under the weight of his friend. His helmet was pushed down in front of his face, only his will-power kept him going forcing him to stagger forwards one step at a time. An occasional magnesium flare flashed through the murk casting garish shadows, burning gas-filled eyes, "Soon be there Pad," he sputtered as they fell downwards.