Chapter Text
In every scenario, there is always a way to get out.
Or at least that’s what James’s mother had told him.
But there seemed to be no way to get out of the awful predicament James had been flung into. Standing shoulder to shoulder with men that were clothed in a muddy green uniform that matched his own, and a metal gun clutched in his hand. The uniform had been handed to him over a desk, by a man with blistered hands and a surly face that seemed to be perpetually sucking on a lemon. The man had made a remark as he was giving him the clothing, a sentence that made his skin crawl.
”I wouldn’t check the inside if I were you.”
”Why?”
”We don’t wash the uniforms.”
Unable to dispel his morbid curiosity, James had taken a peek at just the inside of the collar. Below where the seam line was, a name was sewn in; ‘Oscar Smith’ around where the thread sat were layers of dried blood, which flaked off underneath the warmth of James’s fingers.
He hadn’t dared to investigate the uniform any further, hurriedly pulling it over his shaking limbs before going to line up with the rest of the men. Not long after, a gun had been thrust in his hands, the cool metal cold and sinister against his trembling fingers. There were a few boys behind James messing around with their guns, pretending to aim them at each other, their laughs echoing against his ears. If James was going to be honest, he wanted nothing more than to fling the gun onto the floor below him, which was caked in a congealed mixture of mud and grass. The rain had been lashing down for days now, and James had been sent down as reinforcements for what the officials back in parliament were saying would be the final fight they would have to carry out to defeat the Germans.
James wished he could believe them.
He hated the war, the violence, and even just holding the gun, let alone pulling the trigger, was making his intestines tie themselves up in an elaborate knot. He would have much preferred to stay at home, hole himself away in the forest by his village until it was all over. But James knew what the people would say if he did, if he tried to get out of the duty that ‘god saved for his strongest soldiers.’ He would be ridiculed, heckled in the streets. He had heard that in some cities in England it got so bad that if you refused to fight they would put you straight into jail. The ones who refuse to fight called themselves ‘conscientious objectors’.
Everyone else just called them cowards.
A man with multiple medals adorned on his uniform walked out in front of the line of men, he hobbled with a wooden stick and one of his eyes swivelled alone, detached from his other. If James hadn’t been trying his hardest to convince himself that he didn’t want to cry, he would admit that he was rather terrifying. The boys that had been messing about behind him quietened down, and raised one hand in a salute. James copied, still unsure who this man was. A small smile split the commanders sour face, making the scar that ran down the bridge of his nose to the side of his mouth warp slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, exposing his multiple missing front teeth.
“Thank you, men. Now as I’m sure you are aware, this war hasn’t been looking good. You are all the young men that were too scared to fight when it was optional. But now- thanks to conscription- you cannot hide from what was your god given role. Cowards no more ey?”
His smile now seemed threatening, and his wooden stick tapped as he walked up and down the line of men, taking time to look each boy in the face with his working eye.
“We have a surprise attack that we are planning on the Germans in two weeks. The battle of Somme- you can already see its golden glow in the history books. You will be partnered and sent off to your bunks in the trenches. Tomorrow I want you back here. Am I clear?”
”Sir yes sir!” Came the response, and lower ranking officers came to partner the boys off, their eyes hard and frowns set from being in the trenches for a period longer than two weeks. They were the lucky ones really, many didn’t get past the first three days. An officer with bloated red blisters decorating his face came up to James and barked out an order, though not before James asked, as an instinct more than anything else;
”What- what happened to your face?”
”Mustard gas. Don’t look so scared, the one you should worry about is chlorine gas- breathe it in and the water will just evaporate out of your body. You’ll suffocate on your own lungs.”
James’s jaw dropped, he had heard of the gassing that the Germans were ever so fond of, but he had never known what it did exactly. The thought of choking on his own lungs made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he went silent as the officer directed him to his bunk mate.
”Marriott, go with Lenney. Your bunks are beneath that wooden paneling.”
The two boys walked into the opening, which looked like nothing more than just a hole in the ground. As James’s eyes adjusted to the dingy light of the room, he could see rows upon rows of beds, all crammed into what could have been nothing more than a ten foot square room. The boy that he had been assigned- Lenney?- let out a shaky laugh next to him and muttered sarcastically;
”Well its not quite the ritz, but it’s okay I guess.”
James didn’t respond and instead walked slowly and awkwardly towards his bunk, resting his small bag of belongings onto what was supposed to be a blanket, but was more like a threadbare carpet pretending to be comfortable. Lenney walked up behind him, he had a lot more of a spring to his step than James, despite the fact that the walls and floor were made of mud, and the ceiling was low enough that they both had to crouch to avoid smacking their heads on splintered wood panels and metal wires.
”I’m Will by the way. They sent me from Newcastle, they must be pretty bloody desperate, I have no idea how to even hold a gun.” He laughed and James still didn’t answer, biting on his lip, hard enough to be a distraction but not rough enough to draw blood.
”You don’t talk a lot do you? That’s okay- I’ll take the top bunk!” He clambered up, his face the picture of pure joy as he stuck his head over the side to face James.
”Wow it’s so cool up here! It’s like I’m a kid again!”
James exhaled, rubbing a hand that was somehow already dirty with dust and grime over his face. He paused before asking, his voice quiet and not at all matching Will’s curiously ecstatic energy;
”Why are you so happy? We have been sent here to die.”
James’s words had barely left his chapped lips when Will responded;
”Death doesn’t scare me. My mam always said: “Things will work out how you want, and if they don’t, it means God has other plans for you.” And say that everything goes so badly wrong that I die or.. choke on my lungs like that depressing officer was saying out there- then I’ll just be dead. Which I’m alright with!”
A small smile appeared on James’s face, and he replied,
“Your mum sounds like a nice woman.”
”She is! She’s waiting for me back at home, when this whole war thing is over.”
James didn’t have the heart to tell him that he probably wasn’t returning home, because that would mean having to admit to himself that he probably wasn’t returning home either. James traced one finger along the material of his blanket, and whispered up to Will, just in case the other soldiers heard and made fun of him.
”I’m really scared, Will.”
Will lowered himself down from his top bunk and sat next to James, looking at him with his blue eyes that reminded James of the cornflowers that grew in his garden back home, and whispered back, in a tone a lot calmer than before,
”I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”