BONG!
Here we go again.
Do I really have to stand here for two minutes? Just because some old people say so? I'd rather be reading the paper.
It's raining again. I hope it clears up before the weekend, I've got some important shopping to do. Oh hurry up, I need a cigarette. Come on, it's nearly lunchtime!
I could really do with a cappucino and a blueberry muffin, keep my blood sugar up. Maybe I'll get some from the café later, a chance for a good rest.
Ali's not looking well. He's got the manflu, ever since that paper cut earlier in the week. I don't think the elastoplast on his finger looks convincing. You normally only pull a sickie for something serious.
Everyone's gone quiet. There's not been talking for over a minute now, it's not natural. I suppose I ought to think about soldiers and dead people and that. I try not to bother myself with global conflict to be honest, best not to consider the consequences, if it happens it happens.
I'm not going down the pub with the girls again. If they want to find out the gossip about Bex that badly they can bloody well follow it on Facebook like the rest of us. Adam's still two-timing her, apparently.
Who farted? Hard to tell, nobody's smirking, they all look so damned bored. I could be doing something useful now, not staring into space. Bet the wrinklies are loving every second.
I wish I was somewhere else, anywhere but here. Back at home with Mandy and a few lagers, sitting on the sofa, giving her tongues. I'll send her a text later, tell her how much I fancy her.
God, this is hell. Please let it be over soon.
bong! | | BANG!
Here we go again.
That shell sounded close, probably in the trench nextdoor. I think it fell short, I'm sure I didn't hear anyone scream.
It's raining again. Like we haven't got enough mud here already. That feels like a rat down by my boot, but I can't see through the smoke. I hope it's not hungry.
I could really do with a cup of Bovril and some bully beef, keep my spirits up. Maybe we'll get some at the end of the watch, that and some blessed sleep.
Alf's not looking well. He's got the shakes, ever since that near miss earlier in the week. I don't think the dressing on his wound looks healthy. You normally only see that many flies around a corpse.
The Hun have gone quiet. There's not been gunfire for over a minute now, I could get used to this. Too much to think they might be retreating, probably just rearming. I try not to think about death these days, best not to consider the consequences, if it happens it happens.
I'm not crawling out into no-man's-land again. If the officers need reconnaissance that badly they can bloody well crawl out themselves. Arthur's still missing out there somewhere, or what's left of him.
Is that gas? Hard to tell, everything smells foul out here in the trenches. I probably stink, but it's been weeks since I had a bath. Bet the headlice are loving every filthy second.
I wish I was somewhere else, anywhere but here. Back at home with Mary and the dog, sitting by a warm fire, cuddling up close. I'll write her a letter later, tell her how much I love her.
God, this is hell. Please let it be over soon.
bang! |
Two Minute Silence
