As I Lay Dying

Three

"This looks like dog shite." Jimmy mutters, staring morosely at the tiny plate of food in front of him.

"Just eat it, you don't know when you'll get the next meal." I reply, spooning the grey mush into my mouth. I'm used to it, we don't eat to enjoy.

"Ellen is an amazing cook." Jimmy sighs and lifts the spoon to his mouth, tentatively pressing his tongue against it then shuddering. "What is this?"

"If you don't want it princess, pass it over 'ere!" Another soldier shouts.

Jimmy laughs along as they all mock him as he slowly takes a mouthful.

After waiting for him to force it down we head outside, sparking up a thin cigarette. Tobacco rations have reduced again and the cigarettes are so thin now they're practically gone in two puffs.

"What are we doing here?" Jimmy presses his hand against the mud wall of the trench and squints over his smoke at me.

"What, in general or right now?"

"No I mean overall? We've been in this trench for weeks with no movement."

"We're just waiting on orders. Once they come we'll have to go over the top." I gesture to the top of trench, to the muddy field that separates our trench from the Germans. "You've been lucky Jim, they've sent you here but we're not the focus at the minute, the battle is being fought elsewhere."

"So what happens when it's our turn?"

"Well, we go over the top of our trench." I point to the top of our muddy wall. "And the Germans go over the top of theirs, then we fight in the middle."

"And the point is?"

"Hopefully we kill more of them."

"But what do we gain? Do they retreat or surrender?"

"That's the idea... But probably not."

Jimmy looks at me blankly.

"The point is that we're blocking them from advancing into France with our trenches, while we're here as a shield they can't march through, they need to get rid of us first. The real battle is being fought  in the air with bombs on cities."

"So.. We're just here as a human shield? We don't actually gain anything?"

"Maybe, if we can clear their trench we will gain that bit of land."

"But how many men will die for that little bit of mud?" Jimmy asks slowly.

I don't reply. I don't have to. I can see the enormity of what's happening here and how many lives it takes to win a bit of ground sinking in.

"Jeez." Jimmy breathes. "We're just... Just..."

"Disposable." I finish quietly. "We're just here to kill or be killed and block them getting further."

"We haven't been sent over the top yet, maybe..."

"It's just a matter of time."

I look at Jimmy's despondent face. He's not a coward. He just doesn't want to die.

The mood in camp is subdued tonight. There's a rumour going round that we'll be advancing soon and most of the men spend the evening writing letters home. Just in case the worst does happen, you need to let your loved ones know you were thinking of them.

I don't have anyone to write to, so I sit beside Jimmy, watching as he slowly scrawls out his letter to Ellen, lying that that food is wholesome and the conditions are great. I watch, smiling to myself as he concentrates carefully on his loopy, untidy writing. After half a paragraph his hand begins to cramp and I offer to finish it for him.