Stench

This is a story I wrote for my writing group in my home town.

A Moment in Time

I sit there and stare at the red sky, so many thoughts travelling around my head. The air around me is filled with a stench that invades my clothes and is even attached to my skin. I fumble in my top pocket for my last cigarette, which I have saved for this auspicious occasion. The boy next to me stares back with haunted eyes, which mirrored my own. Young bloke he was, reminded me of my little brother at home.

You okay mate, I said, a wry smile on my lips. He pointed to his boots, caked with mud. My feet won’t warm up, he said. I nodded; my feet are so cold and damp, that my toes continually hurt. It’s the winter chill and the rain.

Nothing but bloody rain.

I carefully pulled my match and went to strike. Got nudged in the side from the bloke next to me. I hid the flame with my hand. I can’t put it out… I just can’t. I need to do something; couldn’t stop myself from lighting up before the spark was extinguished. Nothing like it, I said, and inhaled the mind numbing smoke.

I know I shouldn’t, I said. He understood, we all understood.

He stared longingly at the stub and I handed him the rest to finish. Thanks mate, he said, taking it in his trembling hands, he gave a sigh of pure happiness and I saw the last of it joining the mud below our feet.

Taking a picture from his uniform pocket, he showed it to me. Pretty young thing, she was. Your sweetheart, I said. For the first time, I saw a faint glimmer of a grin, love in his haggard eyes. I showed him my wife’s picture. This is Lillian and my son James, I said. I do miss them so much and my heart was missing beats. We’ll be home for Christmas, I said. Not sure I believed it? Not sure he did? Made us feel a bit better though.

He broke the silence, does it hurt? He said. He thought I had the answer. I want to go home, he said. He looked so scared, this young boy, too young to vote, but old enough to fight; Old enough to die.

Handsome lad he is, with a mop of dark hair. All over in seconds they say, I said. I didn’t talk about the men that were heard screaming in the mud, didn’t want to think about it.

I don’t want to die, he said. Nothing I could say could help him. We both knew the score. I’ll watch out for you mate. I meant it. At that moment, I meant it.

He was trying not to cry and I tried not to notice. Heard the captain bellowing out his orders. Seconds now, I try not to contemplate what is laying in store for us. I give my new mate the thumbs up. Good luck, I said.

I can’t see him now and the silence grips my very soul. I grip on to the ladder, fixed to the spot. Move it, the captain said, I’m not allowed to refuse. Whatever I do it will end up with the same result and that dreaded telegram being given to my wife.

As I take each step towards the top of the trench, I try to think of a happy memory. My little boy running towards me, arms outstretched and it is him I can see as I go over the top.