B00D2VJZ4G EBOK by Jon E. Lewis Page A

at the sap-head. Kendall made himself comfortable on the small fire-step close to the supply of Mills’ bombs, having first put a couple handy beside him. He looked at his watch: ‘Five minutes to ten,’ he whispered. ‘They’ll be back in the front line by now. Say, Jerry’s only a few yards away, isn’t he?’
    ‘Yes,’ I answered.’ No need to whisper, but don’t shout. Jerry’s sap-head is about 25 yards from here. Sometimes, when it’s quiet, you can hear him knock a tin over. I believe they’ve got a little dug-out at their sap-head.’
    ‘Seems damn silly, doesn’t it,’ Kendall remarked. ‘Couple of Jerries, or so, 25 yards over there and us over here, sitting on our backsides doing nothing.’
    ‘Shift farther up, then I can sit down and help you. When Jerry sends a couple of bombs over after he’s had his supper we’ll send one over just to let him know we’re still awake.’
    ‘We shan’t have had any supper though. Have you anything to eat?’ Kendall asked.
    ‘No. Have you?’
    ‘Not a thing, only these hard biscuits.’
    Apart from two small explosions near by and our reply, the night was comparatively quiet. But a continuous booming as of distant thunder came from the direction of the Somme. Kendall noted it:
    ‘Worse places than this, I suppose,’ he said.
    ‘Yes. Still you might have had a soft look-out job in the front line. What did you want to come down here for, anyway? Always thought you were windy,’ I bantered.
    ‘So I am,’ he confessed; ‘windy as hell.’
    ‘So am I.’
    ‘Then why did the captain call on – ’
    ‘Shut up! I haven’t told him yet.’
    Kendall became reminiscent as a rat scuttled up the bank to the side of us.
    ‘Funny, that night in the sugar factory. Lord, how I cursed that sergeant sticking us on guard together! And here we are – snug as a couple of bugs in a rug.’
    ‘Not so strange after all. Perhaps, if we knew Jerry better, there’d be none of this,’ I ventured.
    ‘Perhaps so. Yes. And here we sit, and over there Jerry sits, lousy as hell – platoons of ’em in column of route marching all over you: drink that’s one part water and four parts chloride of lime and brought up from the well at Ecurie in 2-gallon petrol tins; a bath every eighteen days and a shave when you’re lucky enough to find a puddle that hasn’t been stirred for an hour or so. What the devil made you join up?’
    ‘The papers talked me into it – and vanity, I suppose,’ I answered.
    And so we talked through the night, gathering our greatcoats around us in the chill of the morning before dawn. A night crammed full of self-revelation – interesting as nothing else – of intimacies conveyed half-banteringly, yet with a veneer of cynicism!
    And at dawn we eyed each other, a little shamefacedly perhaps, with a new interest and greater understanding.
    ‘Gets colder between stand-to and stand-down,’ Kendall remarked. He jumped down from the fire-step, where he had been looking towards the German lines. ‘The sun’ll get stronger presently. Keep an eye on that poppy – it grew on the edge of the trench – ’ watch it open. That’ll help the time to pass.’
    ‘Blimy!’ he continued. ‘We’ve done eight hours already. Must report to the union when we get back.’
    Sergeant Popple crawled warily up to the sap-head, carrying two hunks of bread, two small pieces of bacon, and a dixie of cold tea. We welcomed him as uproariously as the proximity of the two sap-heads allowed.
    ‘Well, Pop,’ Kendall said, ‘how are things?’
    ‘Lost a lot of men in the bombardment last night – Jerry’s got our range to an inch. Davies gone, poor fellow, and Wellshead; Ashton blown to pieces; and Wheeler, poor kid. Only seventeen too! Got out here by bluffing his age and now a shell’s taken his head clean off while he was standing on the fire-step. Goodness knows how many have had ‘Blighty ones.’’ Sergeant Popple looked grave as he stood with bended