by Maria Shepherdson

Created on: August 05, 2009   Last Updated: February 07, 2010

Quite Blown Away

 'Well? Are you coming? Jozef?'

 A grimy hand shook him awake. Blinking in the smoky dimness of a waterlogged trench, Jozef shook his head and rubbed red-rimmed eyes.

'To where?'

'Popperinge. Talbot house.'

The younger man sat heavily on the rickety bunk and raised his half rotten boots out of the mire. Jozef scratched hard at his shaved head and swung into a half sitting position. He had heard much about Talbot House and all of it good. Perhaps he would even have a moment in the Chapel. Not to talk to God for God had long since abandoned this ex-Jew in favour of quieter less frightening surroundings? But a hot bath, some quite. That was appealing.

'Better than a whore house eh?' he exchanged a wry grin with the Lieutenant who had been in the habit of frequenting a local brothel until one of the lovelies shared an unexpected gift with him that kept him bandy legged and raw for some weeks.

Outside, the air was only slightly less foetid than the large dugout. It had been strangely quiet all day, even for a rear-guard resting area. Here and there the ground was a mass of upturned earth, every yard dotted with pockmarks. Barbed wire and a pale blue winter sky, burnt sienna earth and the fast fading light gave the flatness of the landscape an eerie beauty that was not lost on either man as the picked their way through the water logged ditches that passed for home.

Once on the road they stepped out briskly passing the observation post bordering the road from Ypres to Bosinge on their left. Beyond was the drained bed of the Yser canal and further on again was the area known as Langemarke, held by the German forces. A number of cottages lined the road the other side of the observation posts, long since abandoned, forlorn finger fireplaces pointing skywards like the skinny hand of an undernourished woman. These had been places to explore once during the days of boredom but had been placed out of bounds on all but the murkiest of days once a fellow too many had been picked off by a German sniper.

Although the rooms had been badly damaged by shellfire, Jozef loved to clamber up the half fallen staircase to perch in the upper room windows and watch the comings and goings of the ant like creatures in the trenches far below and in the distance. He had become immune to the sad sight of the contents of drawers tumbled this way and that, evidence of hurried packing and flight. Young men in search of a small souvenir had picked over these pathetic

• 1
• 2
• 3
• ...
• 8
• Next Page >>