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Nightly Visitor
I am lying outside a field hospital: the one I was taken to after my encounter in the clearing. It is summer but the night is very dark. Casualties from the battle are still streaming in and need any beds that can be spared. Some of them, though, and some of us, are brought out here to make room Last night, they were having to make bunk type structures by lying on man on his stretcher, onto the head and foot bed posts of another. It was awful; stifling, hot, disgusting smells, people groaning that you cant help Not that I could really help them anyway You see, us lot that are put outside are those they think they might otherwise have to remove very quickly in the dark Cant have blokes lying around in the ward once theyve pegged out as the orderly so delicately puts it If I sound bitter at that, I am Im entitled to be: like I said; Im outside.
There is a man to my left, curled on his side and three men opposite, the other side of the path leading to the back entrance to the hospital (for entrance read hole smashed in wall covered with some kind of curved frame work and a tarpaulin). Im not sure if theres anyone to my right, there was last night, but I cant sense him there now. His blanket is. We are all laid on stretchers or canvas sort of ground sheets and given a thick charcoal grey blanket to cover ourselves. I couldnt tell you if Im hot or cold: for one thing, I cant feel much at all now, and for another, I discovered some hours ago, I can no longer speak properly. My throat wont make proper sounds.my mouth doesnt seem to connect with the words I think. like its gone numb
I just lay here, on my back, gazing up at the beautiful deep mid-blue of the night sky so different to the shell fog Ive seen in it lately Not a sound or even a single bird disturbs it.. Suddenly I realise two orderlies or junior RAMC worker have come to the entrance and are standing just outside it for a smoke. I can smell the tobacco just a bit what wouldnt I give for a woodbine?....I can still see and hear, and I become aware that their topic of conversation is actually me. It seems that the person who shot me has been asking round as to whether anyones found me yet.
Hes telling everyone he killed the lad cause he was trying to desert! The one on the left facing me says, lighting his cigarette. I wonder if he knows the lad in question is lying just a few yards in front of him. I am angry that my comrades are being told this lie about me, but I make myself calm so I can hear the rest of the discussion. I soon get my answer. But I dont swallow that, the man gestures me look at his wound, like its he gropes around for the type of word he wants. Methodical. Made a damn poor job of it, if thats what happened!
Well, if he was running the other considers in a higher, younger voice, playing devils advocate, as if he doesnt want any trouble from the person who did it, whatever the story. Hes certain he killed him, any how. They stare at me for a while. I feel like telling them to either say something, preferably to me, or piss off and look at some other poor bugger.
You know what that Fritz reckoned...
Well, the first man turns and spits in the mud at his feet. He is more roughly spoken and solidly built. Reminds me of the miners in our sector; they take no nonsense. The thing that worries me, is that they say hes coming up here sometime what do we do with the lad then? What if he sees him? We cant have that.
Is the sarge coming in tonight? The younger demands. They turn to go back in. The elder shrugs. His companion chucks down the end of the cigarette butt.
No, I.
I cant hear the rest of the line; the entrance falls silent and I go back to staring at the sky which is now being pricked with tiny gold stars. I try to get my mind round what Ive just heard Abruptly, someone appears at the end of my legs. Had I been capable, I would have jumped violently. He comes to the side and peers down at me. I sense who he is and start to feel fear in my stomach. I wonder if Im seeing things, seeing his silhouetted head and helmet against the blue sky yet I know hes realI try to yell, but I cant The hat, I notice, now looks amusingly like a trilby at this angle but I know this visitor is not here for my entertain mentor my benefit.
His eyes bear down at my face and a nasty smile emerges despite the balaclava he has covered his face with. He ridicules the fact I still havent got away with it, have I? and my coming fate. I wish I could spit in his face. The smile, however, just becomes more self satisfied, like a cruel pirate from childrens stories and suddenly he produces something from by his side and stuffs it over my face. I struggle to yell, squirm, any thing to get it off but Im took weak in anything but anger to be very successful at any of it. Things start to go black.. I here a distanced yell and running foot steps the thing on my face disappears. I wake up, and he is gone. They didnt catch him and despite knowing who he was, Im pretty certain they wont tell. Theyre too scared to
I guess whatever he did, he was still a soldier, and his actions may have been brought on by the war we both fought in, so he has the right to be remembered well, like the rest of us However difficult I sometimes find that in this case I have reason to believe he was KIA not many months after His name was Segt. John Turnbull then of the Royal Scots/ Royal scots fusiliers...
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