Passions of War by Hilary Green

tearing great craters in the level ground and wreaking heavy casualties. Tom saw the shallow foxholes on either side of him disintegrate into flying clods of earth, in which were mingled the remains of weapons, shreds of clothing and dismembered body parts. Then the guns fell silent and the grey-uniformed ranks of the German infantry advanced. Incredibly, to Tom, they still came on in solid blocks, presenting a target even he could not miss. Even more incredibly, as at Mons, from what appeared a scene of lifeless devastation, a scorching rain of bullets erupted. Working the bolts of their rifles until the barrels were red hot, the British Tommies poured a withering fire into the massed ranks and soon the field in front of them was strewn with bodies. But still they came on, the numbers apparently inexhaustible, tramping over their dead comrades and advancing ever closer.
    Again and again Tom reloaded and fired, oblivious now to whether his bullets found a living target, until his arms ached so much that he could scarcely support the rifle. To one side, he saw an artillery battery. Half its crew were either dead or wounded, but the survivors scrambled from gun to gun to keep up the fire. The enemy was closer now and it seemed they must be overrun at any moment. Then a bugle sounded and Ralph leapt to his feet, defying the bullets that whistled past him.
    â€˜Fall back! Fall back!’
    Those men who could still stand got up and, bent double, raced for the safety of some woods a few hundred yards away. Tom ran with them. Then a sight arrested him. A little to his right the remaining men of the gun crew were struggling to harness their horses to the gun limber. Two horses lay dead already, the others, terrified, reared and plunged. Without pausing for thought Tom changed course and ran to help. Catching the bridle of one horse, he succeeded in holding it until the straps attaching it to the gun had been buckled. Two other men harnessed the second beast and then one shouted, ‘Jump up, sir! Save the gun!’
    Tom did not wait for a second invitation, but vaulted on to the horse’s back and dug in his heels. Crouching low, with the gun limber rattling and swerving behind him, he rode at a flat gallop for the trees. The men were regrouping in a clearing and as he arrived one ran forward to hold the horse’s head. As Tom slid to the ground the second gun team came careering into the clearing and the sergeant in charge came over.
    â€˜Thank you for that, sir. I don’t think we’d have got both guns away without your help. We can manage now.’
    Tom went in search of Ralph, but the men were already moving out on to the road beyond the village and he could see no sign of him. A voice called, ‘Over here, sir!’ and he saw his batman leading his horse.
    â€˜Glad to see you’re still with us, Matt,’ he said, as he mounted, and the man grinned.
    â€˜You too, sir, if you’ll pardon the liberty.’
    â€˜Have you seen Lieutenant Malham Brown?’
    â€˜No, sir. I lost sight of him in the retreat. I expect he’s ahead of us.’
    It took Tom nearly an hour in the gathering darkness to find Ralph, trudging along with the common soldiers with a bandage round his head. He looked up as Tom slid to the ground beside him and for a moment his eyes were as blank as they had been in the casualty station at Mons. Then his face lit up.
    â€˜Tom! Thank God! I thought you’d bought it!’ He reached out and gripped Tom’s shoulder and Tom slid an arm round him.
    â€˜What about you? Is the wound serious?’
    â€˜No, just a scratch.’
    â€˜Where’s your horse?’
    â€˜Shot out from under me when I went back to round up the stragglers. I’ll get a new one from the remounts when we halt.’
    For a moment he let Tom support him. Then he straightened up. ‘Well, we held them for a day. I just hope that’s long enough. Sooner or later we’ve