Why?

[Ozzie]

I am tired, so very tired. My eyes droop as I try to focus on the grey vista before me. I shake my head, trying to clear my vision. My stomach is making loud noises in the quietness of the dark before dawn. No food has passed my lips for the last two days. Furphy’s abound that the last crew that tried to bring us our tucker, are now drowned along the way.

I am cold. Not cold like I was at home on a winters day out mustering, but bone chilling, numbingly cold. I have gone past the shivering, the involuntary movements that take over the body. Last night I slept huddled up against poor Tom. It was for warmth, but when I woke, his body was stone cold. Colder than I would ever imagined a body to be. He had died during the night, from what, we do not know. Did he just give up, or was there a weakness in him?

So very tired. They say we are to go over tomorrow. This ragged bunch of men, as I look about me, how the hell will they go over? Oh, for the warmth of a summer afternoon at home, where the magpies warble, and the tall grass waves slowly in the heat. It is these images that tease me, as I sit up to my knees in mud. The foul stinking mud that pulls you into its depths. How many men lie beneath this mud. Hun, French, British, us?

All very well to believe that we are fighting for the good of the Empire. Is that not what we joined up for? Well, that and an adventure. To see the world. To beat the Hun and go home, home to that distant land that burns so vivid in my mind.

This grey desolate wasteland is not worth the lives of so many. So many that have shed their blood, left children fatherless, wives as widows, and caused mothers to weep.

Charlie has black toes. He hid from the Captain when the officer did the rounds. Captain was dead on his feet, and didn’t notice. We all told Charlie he was an idiot, his black toes were a ticket out of hell for him. He just looked at us with a silly grin, and said there was no way he was leaving us to have all the fun. Stupid *******. I heard him groaning all night. He reckons he doesn’t feel a thing, but it must pain him something shocking.

And the bloody chats. Haunted us on that **** hole of a place they call Gallipoli, and here they are, in the freezing countryside of France. Bloody little things they are. Make a man go mad with the scratching.

I don’t mean to whinge. I’ve never swung the lead. But to see rats as big as cats staring at you , eyeball to eyeball, and to walk over dead men, feel their insides squelch under your boots, as you tramp up the narrow trenches. I mean, just how much is a man meant to take?

The hour before stand to is always the worst. Wondering if the Hun will open with a hate attack. Funny words those, hate attack. I don’t think they hate us, they are just like us, doing what their CO tells them to do. They have wives and children, brothers and sisters, waiting for them back home. Wonder what they get fed, heard all sorts of weird things about what they eat.

Can’t sleep, gone beyond sleep.

My eyes feel like they have sand in them, and the tears just fall cause the icy cold makes them smart.

Need to have a piss, but that means moving. That means getting colder. My legs are numb, they won’t move. My legs won’t move! I slap them, trying to get the circulation going, trying to make then move. Oh, my God, I can’t move them.

And now warmth fills my groin. I have pissed myself.

What more can a man stand?

Here it is, the order to stand to! I start laughing. It starts as a giggle, a snort, and then I am laughing out loud. I am a man who can not feel his legs, who has just pissed himself, who is tired and hungry, and they want me to stand to! I flop against the fire step, dragging my rifle up, pulling back the bolt. Slowly I sink to into the slush at the bottom of the trench, and I wonder how hard would it be, to put the barrel into my leg, and pull the trigger.

I shake my head, still laughing, while my mates around me tell me to cut it out. A hand reaches down, grasping my arm, pulling me upwards. An arm goes about my shoulders, and a voice whispers in my ear, “ C’mon mate, enough of that ****, lets do what we have to do.”

I lean against him, too ashamed to tell him my worries. He doesn’t ask, and I use him as support for my dead legs as I load a round into the barrel of my rifle.

It is spring now. The roses are blooming, and the poppies spread their blood on the dank, grey mud. The one whose arm dragged me back from madness lies below.

My legs are covered in a grey blanket. They give me pain every now and then, but the blanket drops onto nothing just below where I pissed myself that early morning, such a short, long time ago.

And sometimes, I still quietly laugh to myself.

[susanhemmings]

Kim, That is so evocative. So sad. I must say I really enjoyed reading - you have the power to transport people to the places and images you write about. What a talent you have.

I had tears in my eyes when he nearly went potty just at stand to... The poor devils.

Have you written any books. Your writing is so thought provoking and I so enjoy your pieces. You really should if you have not already done so.

I am a tiny bit into "the Summer before the Storm" and it has transported me to a time and place I could not even begin to imagine - let alone write about.

I am thoroughly enjoying Gabriel's book. It is superb.

And I think you could very easily write something to keep everyone glued to your words.

Thank you

Susan.

[Ozzie]

Thankyou Susan.

I do have something written, and it is being looked at as we speak, by someone who will give me an idea if is worth going on with.

Some people can sit and write at will, I have to have what I call, 'the music' happening. Lately, it has been playing, after a long absence.

I do appreciate your words, they give me condfidence to go with it.

Cheers

Kim

[ShirlD]

Hi Kim,

This week two things have brought the War vividly to life, your words in this piece and a thread 'Colourized B/W IWM photos' by Chris.

Thank you

Cheers

Shirley

[Dan Morton]

Kim - Words fail me! Good luck in getting your work published!

All the best,

Dan

[Chris Foster]

Kim, Just to repeat what Dan wrote, Good luck.

Kindest Regards

Chris

[Guest soren1916]

Yes Good Luck!

[susanhemmings]

Go for it Kim.

It would be a crime not to.

Good luck and let us all know how it goes.

May we be at the top of the lsales list.

Let the "music" play... on an on... Can't wait.

Susan.

[mctaz]

Kim,

that's brilliant stuff!

Good Luck With it!

Jim

[Andrew P]

Hi Kim

Very good piece. Your descriptive writing is great. I should be getting you to help with my book

Cheers

Andrew

[frev]

Yep - our Kimmy's pretty good isn't she................

...................now, if only we could get her to make a start on another book.........

.........or at least enter some literary competitions......................!!

Yeah, I know...............nag, nag, nag!

[Ozzie]

I'd just like everyone to know that the first one would never have been finished if it was not for

FREV.

So, I'd like to thank her publicly for her nagging, her support and her kind words.

Cheers

Kim

Thanks people for the lovely comments.

Cheers

Kim

[susanhemmings]

Keep right on nagging Frev !

Susan.