Alone In The Trenches Read Online Free Page B

“puttees” the soldiers wore on their lower legs for extra support. “But don’t you mind about that. Let’s go and find the
corporal and tell him we’re on our way.”

    The corporal was busy and spoke only to Charlie, not to me. And considering Charlie was now a hero, he spoke rather roughly, I thought.
    “It’s all very well, Private Perkins, you chasing after the likes of our Captain Garvey and his pet schemes, but I need your mind back on your job. You say the young lady has family
in Witney, so if no one’s got a better suggestion, you could tell Transport she should be sent there. At least she doesn’t come from Penzance or the wilds of Scotland. That might be
more difficult for the Oxfordshire regiment to arrange.”
    I opened my mouth to say something, but Charlie motioned me to keep quiet. I hadn’t thought things through. I’d never met any of my Witney family – though Dad had often talked
about them. Even if they were willing to take me in, perhaps I’d be no happier than I’d been with Mum and Grandma. As we walked down a lane towards Transport, Charlie said, “Lots
of your people have made the journey to England, you know. You won’t be the first. From what I’ve heard half of Belgium’s there. A few months back, when we were coming up to
Ypres, we passed hundreds of them on the road, poor devils. All they had was what they were stood up in, or could throw on a cart.”
    I think I must have been whimpering a little as he said this.
    “Now then,” he said, stopping and turning me round to look at him. “That won’t do at all. Let’s put on our best face, so we make a good impression.”
    *
    Transport had taken over the offices of a timber yard in a large village a couple of miles from
Rosie
. Next to the yard was the railway station, with a number of sidings
containing wagons and carriages. The station buildings had been turned into a hospital. I was shocked to see a long line of men lying on stretchers next to the station door.

    One of them was groaning loudly and thrashing around where he lay. A man with a Red Cross badge on his arm ran to him and knelt over him, trying to get him to drink, but the
injured soldier knocked his arm away, spilling the contents of the cup. Then I saw that most of his right leg had been blown off, leaving just a stump covered with dirty bloodied bandages. He
screamed at the orderly, “For God’s sake help me.
Help
me, man. I’m dying…”
    “I’m trying,” the orderly said calmly. “The drink will make you feel better. But I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself…”
    Charlie pulled at my hand, “Sometimes it’s best not to look,” he said. “Gets the imagination going too much.”
    But I’d already seen the pain on the soldier’s face and wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. And I’d seen the other line of stretchers too, where just the shapes of men were
visible under blankets that covered their bodies from head to toe. I didn’t want to believe what I saw, but in my heart I knew they were dead.
    A train had just arrived in the station and soldiers were milling around the wagons, looking for their packs and sharing a joke. Charlie asked where he could find the Chief Transport Officer. A
couple of chaps shrugged their shoulders, but a gangling lad who was doing his best to make the yard tidy with a broom pointed us in the direction of a tall, haughty-looking man with a hooked nose
and a wispy moustache.
    “You can try Captain Leveson, I suppose. He doesn’t take any nonsense, but he knows his stuff.”
    Captain Leveson was standing outside one of the doors of the offices watching the chaos. He was tapping his officer’s stick impatiently against one thigh and shaking his head. It
didn’t look a good moment to be asking a favour. “Private Perkins, sir, ‘B’ company, 2nd Battalion Oxfordshires. I’ve been sent to you to ask if you would take this
young lady, sir.”

    “Take her?” Captain Leveson barked