War Memory of Brother Will

The reader may notice that Andy appears more in my memories than Will: this is not deliberate, and means no disregard to the elder of my twin brothers. It is perhaps natural that I should be closer to, and be more influenced by Andy: I was maybe a bit more like him and it has to be remembered that Will would have been taking his studies during most of my teens. Thus, it was And;, mischievous yet loyal; mad, crazy but serious, intelligent but absentminded: who taught me how to make a go cart, climb trees, spin a ball for cricket; it was Andy who would discipline me for not giving up my seat to a lady on the bus, and who explained etiquette as regards lasses memorable words of wisdom like A decent bloke never does nothin to a lass she dont want That I mustnt swear in front of them I also have a fond memory of being on a bus or tram with him once, standing up, so female passengers could sit. At one stop, several lasses got off; it was hot and they were not very covered up when they filed past us to the doorthe sheepish _expression on Andys face when I caught him giving their chest approving observation was a sight to behold

However, I do have one memory that is about Will alone.

It is shortly after the Christmas truce; three, maybe four days. Its night again and Im lying on some sort of makeshift bed and am covered by a rough blanket. This bed appears to be made of the side of a crate or a wooden pallet like a giant duckboard. There is still snow on the ground. Someone has a lantern and the haze of the night just above ground glow a strange brown-orange. The fact Im not in a trench means Im in a rest area, near a wooden building with the rest of my company. I lay nearest to the direction of the enemy.

Somebody walks up from behind me, from the direction of my feet and I assume its an officer doing the rounds, trying to keep the post-Christmas moral up. I only realise its my brother Will when I see his right hand, clutching his journal, wearing his rather long great coat ,caught in the lantern light beyond him. I think he was given the brown leather notebook by mother for his twenty-first birthday, for his studies, but he has kept it for special things; his poems and so forth, to me, it has always seemed to be a talisman for him; he always carries it when he feels unsure

I am sure something is the matter now. He talks to me about the Truce but he sounds preoccupied and doesnt seem to notice my answers; perhaps he doesnt want any, just to talk to a familiar face from home; from our life before the war He stands at a casual attention, arms by his sides, eyes transfixed on the horizon where the enemy wait in their own trenches He speaks to me as he would Andy, as equal in age or experience when hes finished, he just gives a resigned gesture of the hand, turns on his heel and goes. I recall the strain in his voice, his tense stance and wonder what is really on his mind.