Alone In The Trenches Read Free Page A

sorry. It’s those flimsies – the cans we store the water in. You’ll get used to it. It doesn’t seem to do
us any harm. And the sergeant says we’ve got to keep drinking plenty, otherwise we’ll be fit for nothing.”
    While I’d been in the wagon, I’d stuffed half a stick of bread into my coat pocket and, despite my little fight with the corporal and the driver, it was still there. I pulled it out,
and offered some to Charlie.
    “Well, thank you young lady, I don’t mind if I do,” he laughed. “Share and share alike! You’ve got to take it where you find it, I always say.”
    As we talked, the sun moved round the angle of the roof and streamed into the barn. What with the tea and the stove and the additional heat from the sun, I quickly went from being chilly to
drowsily warm. I’d been up before six: it had been a long and dramatic morning. Charlie’s voice was low and soothing, and I fell asleep where I sat.
    I must have slept for several hours, because when I woke the afternoon light was already beginning to fade. The soldiers had moved me and I was now lying on a camp bed covered with a coarse
blanket. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but around me there was a pleasant hum of activity. The smell of cooking drifted towards me from one corner of the yard. Men were queueing by a cart. From
behind the cart two women in uniform were dishing out something brown and sloppy onto tin plates. The soldiers ate greedily, laughing and joking as they scooped up mouthfuls of food and wiped their
dirty mouths on their sleeves. From the other side of the courtyard came the snort and stamp of horses. Two fine-looking mares were being brushed down while a patient old carthorse stood next to
them with one leg raised, having a shoe replaced. A lorry had arrived at the entrance to the yard, and lengths of board and rolls of chicken wire were being unloaded under the corporal’s
beady eye. A few metres away, a row of men were carefully cleaning their rifles, pulling lengths of cloth through the gun-barrels. Immediately next to me a soldier with carrot-red hair was sitting
in his vest peering at his army jacket. He had a clown’s face with a squint and a broken nose. In his left hand he held a candle. He ran the candle up and down the seams of the jacket, one by
one. He caught me watching him and laughed.
    “Don’t you mind me, missy,” he chuckled. “It’s the lice, see. The little critters likes to hide where you can’t see ’em. But a candle’ll always
find ’em out, don’t you worry. Like…that!” And he pounced on something with a thumb and forefinger, squashed it, and rubbed his finger in the dirt beside him. “Don’t you just wish to blazes the flippin’ Hun could be so easily squashed, eh? I’m Ginger, by the way. Charlie’s mate.”

    I thought he was funny and sat up so that I could watch more closely. “Oi, Charlie,” Ginger hollered. “You’re needed over ’ere.” And then I saw Charlie coming
through a gap in the walls followed by a tall, slim, smartly dressed officer. They were talking. When Ginger saw the officer with Charlie, he added with another shout, “Begging pardon,
sir”. Charlie waved a hand in our direction either to show he’d heard or perhaps to shut Ginger up. He finished his conversation with a salute and crossed the yard towards us.
    “I hope Private Phipps here isn’t getting you into mischief?” he said, smiling.
    “As if I would,” Ginger replied. “I’m shocked you should ever dream of such a thing, Private Perkins.”
    “Now, Miss Annette, you could probably do with a wash and brush up,” said Charlie, all business-like. “I’ve had a word with the captain, and he’s fine for you to
use the facilities in the house. Come with me and I’ll show you.”
    “He’s a good lad, is Charlie,” Ginger called out as Charlie took me away. “Not like some. He’ll look after you all right, miss. And if he gets put upon for
something and can’t