https://Voice.club - They are in a crater, a quagmire of mud, stained with blood. At the bottom, a pool of filthy water in which two soldiers lie still, one face down in the water and the other? Well, it’s hard to tell who it is or what’s left of him.
Thomas’ ears are ringing from the detonation of the shells, but he feels no pain and seems to have escaped injury.
He looks over to his best friend Harry, who is whimpering over and over, “It hurts, it hurts.” Last night they had exchanged letters written to their parents back home. They had already lost many comrades, so it was highly probable that one or both would not survive.
“I’m coming, Harry,” he shouts as he crawls towards him, slithering and sliding on the steep crater walls. When he gets to him, he sees the gaping wound and knows it won’t be long. Cradling Harry in his arms, he gently murmurs,
“I miss the sunrise over the moors, the bleating of the lambs, the spring of the heather under my feet. I miss the colours. Here, all I see are browns and greys, barbed wire everywhere, and a scene of death and desolation. What about you, Harry? What do you miss?"
The distraction seems to lessen Harry’s pain. Grimacing with the effort, he looks beyond the battlefield in his mind’s eye.
"I see green fields, beautiful hedgerows full of birds. I hear their singing, a thousand different notes, but such melody. I hear the church bells ringing out their rhymes with clanging chimes. I smell the roast dinner. Dad is carving, and Mum is passing the steaming gravy. Oh, and me bed. I lie with my head on soft, plump pillows under the gentle caress of white cotton sheets. The light shining through the curtains is getting brighter…”
A pain shoots through his body, and his voice turns to a croak.
“I’m not going to see them again, am I, Tom? Don’t forget me letter.”
Harry smiles for the last time, his eyes glazing over. Fond memories imprinted at his passing.