My Brother's Keeper Read Online Free Page B

appeared from behind the sacking over the dugout.
    â€˜For God’s sake, Alfie!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t just stand there – take cover!’
    Alfie wondered why Ernie seemed so worked up. Then he heard the boom-boom-boom of heavy guns somewhere in the distance, and understood – the German artillery was opening up.
    He leapt off the fire-step and dived into the dugout just as the first shells whistled down in no-man’s land and behind the trench. Ernie pulled him deep into the dugout, where George and Cyril were already huddled.
    â€˜There, you see?’ yelled Cyril. ‘I told you Fritz don’t like surprises.’
    Alfie wasn’t listening. He felt as if he were inside a huge drum that was being struck by a giant fist every few seconds. Each impact released a cloud of dirt from above, the soil getting into his eyes and mouth, each shockwave pulsed through the dugout walls and up through the ground. It all seemed to go on for ages, far longer than the mortar attack on the German trenches, but it stopped at last.
    After a few moments, Ernie said it was safe to leave the dugout. Alfie emerged into the grey daylight withhis mates, his ears ringing as if he’d been repeatedly bashed round the head. He expected to see that the whole trench had been blown to kingdom come. It was still there, although it looked as if some giant angry creature had bitten huge chunks out of the rear wall and kicked in the parapet. The trench bottom was full of smashed wood and torn sandbags, and dark swirls of smoke with a strange, bitter-sweet smell hung in the air. Alfie coughed as it hit the back of his throat.
    â€˜The smell of cordite, Alfie,’ said Ernie. ‘There’s nothing quite like it.’
    Alfie wanted to ask what cordite was, but he didn’t get the chance. ‘Out of the way!’ someone yelled behind him, and he was roughly shoved aside.
    Two men were racing along the trench carrying a stretcher with a man on it, a soldier with his eyes shut tight, his face as white as paper. He only seemed to fill half the stretcher, and for a moment Alfie thought he must be incredibly short. Then he saw that both the man’s legs ended in a ragged, scarlet mess just above where his knees should have been, and that blood was pumping out of the stumps.
    â€˜Jesus wept,’ muttered Cyril. ‘Poor devil. Hope he makes it.’
    Alfie swallowed hard, determined not to be sick this time.
    But he was, anyway.

Chapter Five

The Butcher’s Bill
    Seconds after Alfie had emptied his guts on his boots the trench mortars opened up again, and Ernie dragged him back into their dugout. The German artillery soon replied, and this time the bombardment was even heavier than before. Alfie huddled between his mates and curled into a tight ball, making himself as small as possible, trying not to scream or cry and desperately wishing it would all just stop.
    Then the British big guns joined the exchange, and Alfie began to wonder if the noise of shelling and counter-shelling would simply get louder and louder until it crushed his skull.
    It ceased at last, and after a while he and his matescrawled out of the dugout once more. The first thing Alfie saw was Captain Johnson striding through a cloud of smoke, swirls of it clinging to him like the folds of a cloak.
    â€˜Stand to, men!’ he shouted, pulling his revolver from the holster on his belt. ‘This might be the moment Jerry chooses to attack, so we need to be ready for him.’
    The Captain strode further on up the trench, yelling the same thing at the other men he passed. Alfie jumped onto the fire-step and waited, gripping his rifle, his heart knocking against his ribs, too scared to even think about looking over the parapet. Nothing happened, however, except for a couple of bursts of machine-gun fire further along the line, and the order to stand down was given half an hour later.
    â€˜You all right, Alfie?’ said