Made in Myrtle Street (Prequel) (28 page)

Before they left, Edward went out to check, for the fourth time that day, if any post had arrived. There was nothing. They had been almost constantly on the move now for the last three weeks and during that time nobody had had any post. The strain of waiting, of wondering if or why he and Laura had drifted apart, was proving a depressing burden. It was especially bad if he was on night watch. After a while, you almost didn’t notice the noise of the nightly barrage that the Germans sent over and the strange contrast that it made with the melodious, undaunted nightingales. For hour after hour, Edward would pick over every detail of what they had said and done during the two weeks of his leave but understanding eluded him. The logical explanation for one situation did not stand scrutiny under another. One moment he was sure that it was only his imagination playing tricks, which if he was there with her would all be shown to be the falsehoods of his anguished mind, but then the next he remembered how she had stood with her back to him when he left. At least a letter would settle it.

Leaving the sap trench they made their way carefully round some bodies lying huddled in the bottom of the crater. A British soldier lay with his arm outstretched over the rotting corpse of a German in ironic reconciliation. They ran quietly forward, grateful for the shelter of the old hedge, and stood in a nervous group at the edge of the open ground. Edward felt as though his heart was pounding so loud that the attention of the enemy would be drawn towards them. He put his fingers to his lips then pointed upwards towards the moon. It was shining brightly but a small bank of cloud was moving quickly towards it. He held two fingers up then raised his eyebrows questioningly to the others. They all nodded their understanding.

Minutes later, they were tracking quickly across the open fields and they reached the safety of the woods as the moon re-emerged from behind the cloud. The area was bathed again in its silvery glow as Edward waved the others deeper into the shelter of the trees. In one of those brief moments of silence that hangs like a spectre over the landscape between the rounds of shell fire, there was a loud crack followed by a louder curse as Big Charlie, bringing up the rear of the column, ran into a low branch. The nervous German gunners were alerted immediately and yellow tongues of flame spouted out of the undergrowth some distance ahead of them.

Bullets splintered branches and pinged off the trees as the machine guns poured endless rounds into the area where the British soldiers crouched. Edward returned to where Big Charlie lay in an untidy heap. His nose, which had taken the full impact of the branch, was split and bleeding but otherwise there seemed to be no serious damage. Big Charlie was, however, clearly in another realm of consciousness at that moment and Edward knew that it would be impossible to move him by himself. He got three others to help and, when the moon again went behind a cloud, they each took a corner of the big man and carried him to safety in a shell hole.

As they part carried, part rolled Big Charlie over the rim of the crater they heard a series of explosions coming from the wood and the four of them, looking for a better view, dropped their recumbent colleague who continued his sliding descent into the bottom of the shell hole. Edward stood up and looked into the woods where flames were now starting to lick into the air. For the moment, the machine gun fire and the shelling had both stopped and the only sound was the crackling of the burning woods. Edward checked the time and smiled to himself. It was ten o’clock. The German artillery in this area always stopped at the same time each evening for half an hour. Unless there was a show going on they stuck to their routine. They weren’t sure whether it was a shift change or a schnapps break but they could be relied on.

‘Stay under cover and do what you can for Charlie. I’m going to see what’s going on up there. Where’s Liam?’

‘He went off with Jim,’ one of the others offered. ‘I think he’s gone looking for a stretcher bearer. He said they’d have to get something sorted so we could get Big Charlie back.’

‘Right. You two come with me, then. The rest of you stay down. If we’re not back in twenty minutes start working your way back with Charlie before they start chucking their iron work over again. Make a break for it when the moon is covered.’

They tracked carefully through the woods towards the distant glow. The slight breeze was carrying burning shreds of timber towards them and the smell conjured up comforting memories for Edward of bonfire night back home in Salford. In the swirling smoke ahead he saw a slight movement and he pulled the other two behind some tangled bushes. They cocked their Lee Enfields as they saw German uniforms emerging from the direction of the fire. Edward’s heart pounded and he tightened his grip on his rifle but he realized that something was not quite right. The German soldiers wore scared looks on their blackened faces. They were not hurrying and they were not armed. In a moment his grip relaxed and he stood up as he saw Liam and Jim come through the smoke with their rifles pointed at the backs of their three prisoners.

Liam’s face erupted into a huge grin when he saw his friend’s surprised look. ‘You alright then, Eddie? You look as though you’ve just seen a ghost. Your Dad hasn’t been round to have a chat, has he?’

Edward’s lips moved silently as he struggled to overcome his surprise. He waved his rifle in the direction of the prisoners. ‘Where’ve they come from? In fact, where have you come from? I’ve just been told that you’d gone looking for a stretcher so that we could get Charlie back.’

‘Well, not quite. When I saw the big fella on the ground looking in a bad way, I thought there’s no chance of getting him back to the line without a few of us copping one off these trigger happy Germans. So I told the lads to tell you that we were going to see what we could sort out so that we could get Big Charlie back for some treatment. Me and Jim went for a bit of a walk and followed where the bullets were coming from. We found them easy enough. They had their machine gun set up in a trench and they were only a few yards away from their dump. So we chucked a couple of feet warmers in and they were out of there like scalded cocks.’

‘You’ve done a good job there, mate. Perhaps we could get them to carry Charlie back for us.’

‘I’m sure that they’d be glad to oblige. To be honest, I think that they were quite glad to be caught. They’ve had enough. They’re looking forward to a stay in Hotel Blighty.’

When they got back to the crater, Big Charlie was sitting up with a sheepish grin on his face.

‘Bloody wars,’ Liam whooped on seeing him. ‘I’d put you down as at least a fractured skull. You must have a head like pre-cast concrete.’

He sat down at the side of Big Charlie and put his arm round his shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re ok mate. I was getting a bit worried about you,’ he said consolingly, before adding ‘We’ve got a big match against that lot from Leeds next week.’

He ducked the poorly aimed cuff to his head then bent down to help his ailing prop forward to his feet.

When they returned to their front line, they delivered the hapless prisoners to the dugout occupied by the Company Captain. They took the tot of rum that was offered them by way of thanks then collected together the few personal possessions that they had with them in the front line trench. Their tour had finished and they were due to be relieved. The Captain told them that they could escort the Germans back to the reserve trenches where there was a holding compound.

It had been a long night and the prospect of a two mile walk before they could get some sleep was not appealing. They knew, however, that at least they would be able to get some decent food and a good bed so they hurried their charges along with enthusiasm. The Germans seemed to relax more as they moved away from the line and, by the time that they had reached Battalion Headquarters, they had managed, with the help of much gesturing, to tell the British soldiers their names. Liam was disappointed to learn that none of them were called Fritz – the only German name known to most of the Tommies.

The pale rosy glow of daylight was just easing its way into the sky as they shook hands with their prisoners and wished them good luck. They made their way over to the canteen knowing that it would still be too early for anybody to be about. Liam had assured them that he knew where everything was and that he would brew them the best cup of tea that they had ever had.

The tables were littered with grease proof paper and chunks of cake with green mould thriving on them. Packs of cards, crib boards and sets of dominoes were scattered untidily around and English newspapers were left open as if waiting for their readers to return.

Whilst Liam stood frowning at the array of knobs that held the key to success on the blackened stove, Edward collected some enamel mugs and carried them over to where the rest of the group had organised sufficient of the metal framed, plywood seated, chairs around a table. Two of the men were now searching through the oddments of the newspapers for the latest sports news. Another was fixing a crudely applied plaster to the wound on Big Charlie’s nose.

Over the general hubbub of shifting chairs, shouts of delight at the news of a Manchester United win, hoots of derision at the appearance of Big Charlie’s blooded brow and the banging of enamel mugs there was a triumphant whoop as Liam succeeded in lighting the temperamental stove.

In the gloomy far corner of the otherwise deserted mess a young officer was slumped in a chair, an empty whisky bottle on the table in front of him, and a crumpled letter written on blue note paper clutched in his hand. On his head flies congregated on a dark red stain of blood that was matting his fair hair and congealing round the hole where he had shot himself.

The mail from home had finally caught up with them.

***

29 Myrtle Street

Cross Lane

Salford 5

Great Britain

25th April 1917

My Dearest,

I cried so much when I read your letter and thought of the pain that you are suffering because perhaps I was a bit insensitive. I am sorry if I hurt you by being so thoughtless and I can only ask you to try to understand that it was also difficult for me and I don’t even know whether I can begin to explain it. I suppose that I was a bit surprised when I saw you because your appearance has changed quite a bit. Since you first joined the army and went away I have kept an image of you locked away in my heart, to preserve you for ever and keep you safe. It has given me the strength to get up every day and look after us all, and to brace myself against the possibility, that I dread every minute of every day, that someone will come and say that you have been taken away from us. There’s not a day gone by in nearly three years that I haven’t thought about you back with us and yearned to hold you. But when you came through the door you looked, for a minute, like a different man. You are thinner and browner and, I’m sorry if this hurts you Sweetheart, but you look older and careworn. When I looked in your eyes they were full of dark shadows. I felt almost guilty for a moment, as though I was embracing another man. But then, I suppose, you are another man. You have been through things that I cannot even begin to understand and when I tried to share them with you, you just closed up.

There’s something inside me that I don’t really understand that stops me letting go of this memory even though you were standing there in front of me. I felt as though somebody was teasing me by just sending you back for a few days and then taking you off us again and that might be the last time that I ever saw you. (Please God forgive me for writing these words and tempting fate but I am trying to make you understand).I know that things have changed whilst you have been away, with the kids growing up and me having to make do the best that I could, but that can’t be helped and can’t be changed in a few days. When you get back for good, we will do what has to be done then to make things right. We have both got to face up to the fact that it will never be the same again for any of us but we will pull together, just like we always did, and we will make things work for our family.

Eddie, I’m sorry if any of this hurts you because it is not meant to. I have had to change in some ways in order to manage without you being there for the time being, but you are still as dear to me as ever. I love you just as much as when you first put the ring on my finger in Stowell’s Church and I won’t change till I breathe my last.

When I said that about our Laura going to High School I wasn’t meaning to push you out. It was just that I didn’t want her getting her hopes up too much. I want the best for her as well, even though she is a girl, but things are a bit tight now, Eddie, and that would be very expensive with the uniforms and books and everything. Just let’s see what happens when you get back.

By the way, our Laura doesn’t know why you got up suddenly and went into the parlour when she asked you how many Germans you had shot. I didn’t tell her that you were crying in there because she wouldn’t really understand. She thought that you were annoyed with her when you went out so quickly but I told her that you had just gone for a cigarette out of the way because of our Mary having a bad chest. She was only asking you that because, the other day, Edith from next door to your Jim’s was in their house breaking her heart. She had just heard that her Frank had been killed in France and our Laura heard your Jim saying that he hoped that you would kill a few of those ‘Bs’ and get this mess over and done with. You know what she is like for listening in when you don’t know. She doesn’t mean any harm.

Take care, my Precious, and come back home safe to me just as soon as you can.

Laura