Chapter 12 #3
Ash had to admit that while she wanted to relax and enjoy the quiet moments in between the terrifying ones, there was a maddening sort of tedium in waiting for the next order or the next run or the next bomb to drop.
At times, the mind-numbing routine of it all helped take the edge off.
A few days in the front line were inevitably followed by a few days in the support trench just behind, and then a week in the reserve line.
Their days seemed never-ending, and their nights were a monotony of sandbags, barbed wire, telephone cables, shots fired, build them up and tear them down and start from naught again.
It was the quiet moments that were hard.
“Have you cleaned your weapons?” Ashley asked him.
“Yes, right after breakfast.”
“Have a kip then,” Cooper suggested, kicking back with his hands folded behind his head like he might take his own advice.
“I’m too tired to sleep,” Tom moaned. “Besides, by the time I’d get to dreaming, it would be my turn for the watch.”
“You could volunteer to clean the latrine,” Ash teased, earning herself a perplexed sort of scowl that made her laugh.
His stomach growled and she laughed harder. She should’ve known it was hunger behind his grumpy mood.
Cooper offered him some sunflower seeds, but Tom made a face and shook his head. “Hardly worth the trouble, are they?”
“Better than hard tack,” Coop said with a shrug.
Tom scratched aggressively at his side. “Ugh, who knew war would be so itchy?”
“Lice?” Blake all but accused, moving further away.
Nodding, Tom grimaced, and sat on his hands to keep from scratching.
“Let me show you Rook’s trick,” Ash said. “Take off your shirt.”
“Rook has a trick?” he asked, shedding the itchy garment.
“And a match?” she said, laying the shirt out flat well away from her bedroll.
“You going to burn my shirt?” he exclaimed.
“That’s one way to get rid of cooties,” Stew laughed.
“Just give me a match.”
Dutifully, TomTom complied, and they all gathered around, scrunching up their faces as she lit it and ran the flame quickly along the seams of the shirt to kill the lice.
“That really works?”
Ash shrugged. “Better than nothing,” she said, waving out the match and handing Tom his shirt, which he inspected closely.
“May keep himself to himself, but he’s dead-useful, that sniper,” Tom said, as he did up his buttons, and for her part, Ash couldn’t help but to agree.
Cooper held up his hands for the matches, and Ash tossed them over, getting Maxie’s attention. The dog sat up, fully alert, as though she hadn’t just been kicking the wall in her dreams.
TomTom’s stomach growled again and Stewart threw him a hard tack biscuit. Max watched it sail in an arc over her head, and she whined, swishing her tail, but didn’t snatch it out of the air like she wanted to.
“Good girl,” Stewart told her, and she yipped.
Lieutenant Napier ducked his head inside and looked around at them. “Private, why isn’t this dog in the kennel?” he asked Stewart.
“Och, sir, she’s only a wee baby,” he said, though the dog was at least two years old and long since weaned.
“Isn’t that all the more reason she should be with the other dogs?” Napier asked, uncertainly.
“But, sir,” Stew protested. “She was crying for her mother.”
Blake snorted, and even Ash tried to suppress a smile.
“Why’s that funny?” Napier asked.
“Stew thinks he’s her mother, sir.”
“Someone has to train her up proper!” Stew protested.
Lieutenant Napier looked a bit baffled. “Yes. Well. See that she stays out of trouble. I don’t want to hear about chewed-up boots or missing rations. Mother,” he added, and they all burst out laughing as he stepped back into the trench hollering for Private Rook.
Napier liked to pretend he was full of bluster, but Ash suspected deep down he had a soft heart.
“Rook, you’ve a four-day pass to leave,” Napier called, his voice echoing down the concrete trench, and they all turned to peer out at the sniper.
“Sir?” Rook asked.
“You’ve been here two years and never applied for leave. Should’ve had one months ago, but I expect it got lost during your transfer.”
“Yes, sir,” Rook replied uncertainly.
“Go to London. Sit in a bath for three days drinking proper tea. I don’t care what you do. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Get some rest. That’s an order,” he added before continuing on his way down the trench like some kind of Father Christmas.
The sniper looked as stunned as Ashley felt when he glanced towards the dugout.
“Lucky bastard,” Coop teased.
Rook shrugged. “See you next week, I suppose,” he told Ash.
Her heart sank as she watched him go. She hadn’t realized how much safer she felt having him on duty nearby until he was walking away from his post. She wanted to go running after him, to tell him to fly safe and take very good care.
Fortunately, Max chose that moment to plop down in her lap, keeping her from exposing herself most foolishly, and she squeezed the dog tight, burying her face in Maxie’s soft warm fur and praying for Rook’s safe and speedy return.