Chapter Text
“I shall miss you, Havers” Those words kept him alive. When all the men in the trenches were losing hope, Havers hung on in the hope of seeing James again, the only person he had really truly loved. Anthony had seen so much heartbreak on the battlefield, men who should have died of old age being ripped from this mortal plane decades before their time, father orphaning their children before they’d ever had the chance even to meet them. Sons, brothers, fathers, friends, uncles, cousins, all casualties of this wretched war. Not a single one of them deserved to die, and yet death had no mercy in this war. Some of the men were barely adults themselves, eighteen-year-olds who had barely known life and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, were fighting to stay alive.
Most of the youngsters in Havers’s battalion started calling him dad. It started with Private Malory, who, after a particularly hard night, Havers decided to comfort, give him a shoulder to cry on and even shared his chocolate with him. he gradually did this with any man who needed a shoulder to cry on. He made sure that everyone felt as safe as one could on a battlefield. When the youngsters were at death's door, even in the midst of enemy fire, he stayed with them so no one would have to die alone. He saw more death and pain than any human should ever have to see, but he held on, now not only for James but for his men, his sons. He did his best for his men and always reminded them that there was someone out there worth staying alive for. He wrote often to James, some of the men knew James’s real identity, but most knew of him as Havers’s sweetheart back home, his lovely Jamie. The ones who knew thought no less of him for who he loved; they didn’t all understand it per se, but they understood that love was more important than what they were taught in church.
In November 1942, at roughly 8 am, Havers was told to lead his battalion into a battle that he knew would be almost certain death for most of the men. He tried to argue with his commanding officer, he tried to reason with him, he tried explaining the reality and the risk of life to his men, but none of it helped. His commanding officer was an unkind man, one who had been numbed to the atrocities of war, and he started seeing men as just numbers as a way to cope with what he had seen. The wars broke him, and now he was just a killing machine. Havers had no choice, he knew today might be his last, so he wrote two last letters, one to his mum telling her that he loved her and the other to James. The letter to James read:
My dear beloved Jamie,
I miss you, my darling. I would move the stars themselves to make you happy, to keep you safe. If you do not hear from me again, please know that I love you dearly. You are the reason I fight and the reason I stay alive; you gave me life. When we first met, I felt so alone, but you, you gave me hope, you gave me my happiness back. Please keep yourself safe and remember that you are loved.
If I make it out of here alive, come and find me.
Your darling,
Anthony x
And with that, Havers got himself ready to lead his men into a massacre. He told them to stick together, that today wasn’t a day for martyrs to be made. He didn’t care if they lost or won; he only cared about getting them out alive. To him, they were just boys, the oldest barely twenty-five; he had a duty of care, and he felt like he was letting them down. They went over the front and were immediately met with enemy fire. He watched man after man being shot down; there were too many; he couldn’t tend to them all. As they got closer to the enemy, he told his men to get behind him. A young private by the name of Joseph Jenkins insisted on being by his side “You can’t hold them all off by yourself, Sir. I’m a great shot, I’ll help.” Havers replied in quite stern tone, one the men had not heard before “Jenkins today is not the day to be a hero, get behind me. I am not going to let you die.” but before he could move a grenade came for them, Havers jumped in front of Jenkins while shouting for his men to take cover. The world went dark, and all he could hear was the screams of his men. Havers could smell blood, it was smell one got used to on the battle field but it was stronger than usual, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from, he couldn’t see anything. he shouted out for men, praying to a god he had lost his belief in that they were all safe. He heard Corporal Davidson “Sir, don’t move. Help is coming.” Havers had an overwhelming feeling of dread. “Corporal, are my men, okay? Are they safe? I can’t see anything, Why can’t I see anything? Where’s Jenkins?” Corporal Davidson moved in closer to Havers and pulled out his water, he poured it over Havers’s face while reassuring him of his men's safety. It was in that moment that Havers realised the blood he could smell so strongly was his own.
It had been about a week since the grenade had hit Havers, he had been taken to the closest military hospital and was being taken care of by a lovely young lady called Marigold, he recognised her voice, but he wasn’t sure why. Havers was yet to regain any sight in the eye that had been hit, and the other had been covered due to a minor injury from the shrapnel. These were not the only injuries he had acquired, he had also been hit in shoulder and upper arm, on top of this he broke a rib when he fell from the hit and somehow managed to dislocate his knee, though he was pretty sure that happened when he was been dragged away from fire by his men. He hated the fact that he couldn’t do things independently; he’d always been independent even as a boy. He learnt to be, his father working two jobs to pay for his schooling, and his mother unable to care for them, instead he became the caretaker of the family, and now he was stuck in a bed being taken care of by a stranger. As the day passed, he kept thinking about everything he could have done differently, how he could have protected his men better. All he could do was think, and that at this moment was the worst thing imaginable. He thought about how many others had to die before this cruel war was over, and for a moment, he questioned what all this was for. He remembered his cousin Tim, who was shot down twice during The Battle of Britain and how he’d never been quite the same since or Lieutenant Poppy who joined up with his younger brothers to protect them and had to watch them both die and then he remembered his lovely James and how scared he must be. He knew James would be worrying; he was a delicate soul and a truly kind man, and he knew he had to let him know he was alive, but he didn’t know how; he couldn’t see, and his right arm was out of commission for the time being. He sat pondering, and then Marigold came over and clicked. He asked her to fetch a pen and paper in a very polite manner. Once she had the pen and paper, he asked her if she could help him write a letter.
Jamie Reighley
46 Melborn Close,
Salisbury,
England
My Darling Jamie,
Apologies if my last letter gave you fright. I am alive and well. We were about to head into a rather tricky situation, and I had to make sure you knew how much I loved you, in case the worst had happened. I’ve been mildly injured but will soon make a full recovery. Please do not worry yourself with my health, I am okay, I promise.
I do hope you are well and that Button House is treating you well, I do miss that house, though I miss you more. Maybe one day I can return there after the war is over, perhaps we could have a party, that would be jolly.
I love you, Jamie
Yours forever,
Anthony x
When he had finished, Marigold looked at the letter stunned, she made him repeat the address twice until he asked why, at that moment she sat on his bed put her hand on his and said “Your Havers, The Anthony Havers” He made a confused sound, before enquiring how she knew him. She replied, “Jamie...James is my older brother. That's our mother's address. He gets his letters sent to our mother's house for some reason. He never stops talking about you in his letter to me. I’ve never seen him so happy than when he’s talking about you.” Havers tilts his head down as if he were looking at the floor in shame. “Please don’t tell him that I’m here or that I’m more injured than I said, I don’t want him to worry.” Marigold squeezes his hand “I won’t, don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.”