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Page 36
"'Pull yourself together, old chap--you're all right for to-day,
anyhow.' I sat bolt upright and stared at him.
"'They're not going to shoot me?'
"'Not to-day,' he answered. 'Cheer up, all sorts of things might happen
before to-morrow.'
"The joy I felt was so big that I can't tell you how big it was. But I
soon felt miserable again. I couldn't understand what had happened. I
didn't know whether I was going to die or live. The uncertainty became
so terrible that I wished I'd been shot that morning--all would have
been over then. They brought me a meal, but I couldn't eat. I asked
them what was going to happen, but they didn't know. Another night came,
but I didn't get any sleep at all. I lay tossing about on my bed, now
hoping, now despairing. I thought of home mostly, but once or twice I
thought of the kids in the school where I taught--to die like this after
the send-off they gave me! Still, they wouldn't know, they'd think I was
killed in an accident, and that was some consolation to me. And the next
morning--I can't bear to think of it--nothing happened: that was just
the terrible thing about it--nothing happened. The day passed and then
another day. At times I longed to be taken out and shot, and once or
twice I felt I didn't care about anything. I didn't care whether I died
or not. A week passed and then another week. I don't know how I lived
through it. Then, one day, I was told to pack up and rejoin my unit. I
don't know exactly what I did, but I think I must have gone hysterical.
I remember some N.C.O. saying I ought to stay a bit because I wasn't
well enough to go up the line. He said he'd speak to the officer and get
me a few days' rest. But the thought of staying in that place made me
shiver. I said I was absolutely all right and went back to my unit.
"But I never found out what had happened--you see, I was only a common
soldier, so they didn't trouble to tell me--until I got a letter from
the Captain who was in charge of me when I was on that forty-three hour
job. He said he'd heard I was in for a court martial for sleeping when
on guard, so he wrote to our headquarters to tell them I'd worked
forty-three hours on end and wasn't fit to do a guard after a spell like
that. Then they must have made a lot of inquiries--I expect there's a
whole file of papers about me at headquarters. Anyhow, that's how I got
off--it's more than a month ago now. Well, yesterday morning I was put
on guard again. I tried to get out of it, but the officer said I was
swinging the lead and he wouldn't listen to any excuses. I told him I'd
had insomnia overnight and could hardly keep my eyes open. I said I'd do
anything rather than a guard--a fatigue job or a patrol, no matter how
dangerous, as long as it kept me on the move. The very thought of doing
a guard made me tremble all over. He swore at me and said he'd heard
these tales before and told me to shut up and get on with it. Well, I
had to stand in the trench in front of a steel plate with holes in it
through which I had to peer. It was just about daybreak. There was a
tree growing about fifty yards off. It had been knocked about pretty
badly, but there were plenty of leaves left on it. I stared at it,
trying hard to keep awake. But soon the trunk began to quiver, then it
wobbled with a wavy motion like a snake. Then the leafy part seemed to
shoot out in all directions until there was nothing but a green blur,
and I fell back against the trench wall and my rifle clattered down. I
pulled myself together, absolutely mad with fear, because I kept on
thinking of the last time I went on guard and the court martial and the
death sentence. I ground my teeth and stared at the tree again. But the
trunk began to wobble with snaky undulations and the green blur grew
bigger and bigger in sudden jerks, while I tried frantically and
desperately to keep it small. But it got the better of me and all at
once it obscured everything with a rush and I dropped forward and
knocked my forehead against the steel plate. I pulled myself together
and prayed for a Blighty or something that would get me out of this
misery. I looked at my watch--O God, only five minutes had gone,
one-twelfth of my time! I had a kind of panic then and I dashed my head
wildly against the trench wall and I bit my lips--I almost enjoyed the
pain. I looked through the hole. The tree was steady at first, but it
soon began to wobble again. Then I said to myself: 'I don't care, I'll
risk it, I won't look out, I'll just keep awake. I don't suppose any
Fritzes will come along--I'll just peep through the holes from time to
time so as to make sure.' I stamped on the duckboard and kicked the
sides of the trench and jerked my rifle up and down just to keep myself
awake. It was all right at first and I was beginning to think I would
get over it somehow, but my feet soon felt as heavy as lead and my head
began to swim until I fell forward once again. Jesus Christ--I didn't
know what to do. I thought of looking at my watch, but I hadn't the
courage at first. Besides, I felt the seconds would slip by while I was
hesitating and so I'd gain at least a little time. I counted the
seconds--one, two, three ... four ... five ... six ... my head dropped
forward and I nearly fell over. I looked at my watch--fourteen minutes
had gone, nearly a quarter of an hour! That wasn't so bad. I felt a
little relieved, but drowsiness came on again. I fought against it with
all my strength, but with an agony no words can describe I realized that
it was too strong for me. I pulled myself together with another
despairing effort. I noticed that my clothing felt cold and clammy--I
had been sweating all over...."
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