Soldier's Valentine Read Free

distinguishable from the volleys being fired out on the battlefield.
    Henry knew what had happened. The officer had managed to draw his pistol close against Lewis’s gut.
    With a look of surprise twisting his boyish features, Lewis stumbled through ankle-deep mud and ice the few feet to his friend. Finally, he slithered to the ground, his hands like claws running down the front of Henry’s battledress.
    No frost, no icy cold could have made Henry Randall feel colder than he already was. He stood there, frozen to the spot, staring down at Lewis’s dead body, which was now crumpled over his feet.
    He thought of all the times they’d had together since joining up. If he’d had the time, his body would have been racked with sobs. As it was he wasn’t given the time.
    ‘Get going Randall! Get going! That’s an order!’
    Although jerked back to his senses, Henry Randall was smitten with a terrible resolve; he would kill that bloody officer. Damned right he would and a battlefield was just the place for an accident to happen.
    His resolve solidified as, grim-faced, he clambered over the top, following all the others who were likely to get killed this day.
    The firing of artillery exploded across the dawn sky. Men ran forwards all around him, and he ran with them, firing all the way, waiting for the right opportunity to do more than kill the opposite side.
    Would he get away with killing an officer? He thought he probably would. In the midst of battle nothing was for certain.
    He charged his way forwards, though never veering too far away from the track the young officer was taking. All around him, men cried out in terror and in pain. He kept going, sure of his aim with both cartridge and bayonet. Bodies and bits of bodies littered the groundaround him and still the enemy came forwards, but always, always, he kept the officer in his sight.
    It was like a dream or a wish come true when he became aware of the lieutenant running parallel with him on his right side. He was also aware of figures emerging from the gloom – German soldiers, their weapons primed and ready to kill.
    Out of the corner of his eye he saw that his officer was in the thick of it. He also saw the weak side, a place where he could barge through and support the man. Normally, he would have relished doing that, surprising the enemy with the sheer aggressiveness of his skill, the man who was born to be a warrior.
    But not this time. This time the vision of Lewis Allen’s hands clawing down his uniform intervened. Lieutenant Ross had killed his best friend. So let him die, but let the Germans do it.
    He heard him cry out, saw the bayonets piercing his body again and again until he slumped to the ground, indistinguishable from the mud, the enemy figures all shrouded with the blackness of night.
    He had his revenge, but gained no great joy from it. The dark deed was done. His beloved friend was dead. Once again he was totally alone.

CHAPTER THREE
    Mary Anne felt as though her flesh had turned to stone. The telegram lay in her mother’s hands. Mary Anne hadn’t been able to read it. Her mother had intervened, her hands shaking because they both knew it did not bring good news.
    It was short and to the point. The War Office is sorry to inform you …
    Edward was dead. One of many thousands killed in a big push. There would be no wedding, but he had left her with a problem.
    ‘We have to decide what to do,’ said her mother. She was sitting in her favourite chintz-covered armchair in front of the fire. Her father was sitting in the opposite chair; Mary Anne sitting on a stool between them.
    ‘We have to think of her future. There is no question whatsoever of keeping the child. The matter must be kept secret. Arrangements must be made for her to go away to have it, somewhere far away from here.’
    Mary Anne, numbed at the terrible news, felt as though she were nothing but an empty shell, as though she no longer had a place in the world.
    They’re discussing