The day the news came flooding down the wires, systems in parliament buzzed with one hopeful message ; don't panic, but the internet practically exploded...
the band didn't hear a thing.
They were too busy in the studio being enveloped by the music. On these days being in the band felt like magic, it made up for the occasional arguments a thousand times.
When they played together they weren't four different men, they were four limbs of one great body a body moved and controlled by the essence of the music.
They played on. The music weaving itself into the tapestry of their souls.
Until the lights went out.
The music stopped with a messy scramble of sound.
"What the fu-" Chris said, his voice breaking the sudden silence.
"Did someone forget to pay the bills or something?" Will queried, adding his own confusion to the alien atmosphere which surrounded them, leaking through the corners of the room.
"No you idiot" Chris retorted, feeling his heart rate quicken
"Shh guys" it was Guy, nearest the sound boards that heard first, the radio playing.
"Who left this on?"
"Shhh. It sounds important"
And so they listened, and through the foggy haze of static which buzzed like a swarm of angry bees, they heard.
"This morning the - Government a - Note stating that, - we - from them by 11 - they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops - a state of war would exist between us.
I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that
consequently this country is at war"
Then with a pop the raspy sound of the radio faded.
The whole room was consumed by silence.
Chris was the first to laugh "guys, you're not serious... Guys," he tapped on the radio "you do know THIS speech is from 1939? This speech is from world war 2"
Then an altogether cleaner more 21st century voice broke through "and that is the message the government is declaring to musicians, artists and Thespians today. Anyone working within these three industries must report to the London docks where they will receive more information."
The first word anyone said was "crap"
It was Chris
"What the hell sort of screwed up idea is that? That's just... So screwed up."
Will tutted, and sighed "it might be screwed up, but I don't think we can get away from it."
Johnny and Chris looked at each other sheepishly
Guy mumbled "I'll go get my car keys."
"Right... OK...." Chris said, through gritted teeth in the sort of way that suggested it really wasn't.
They all drove in silence, the London streets somehow slipping past them like soap,
***
When they got to the Docks it was tense and nervous, throngs of people scattered in their own little confused groups.
"Why did I have to come back? Now I know why everyone moves to bloody LA."
At the front of the crowd a man with a blue uniform stood in silence, staring with his cold, emotionless grey eyes at each and every face with a grim smile spread across his face like some wretched mask.
Johnny nudged Chris who turned round lethargically, his arms and face drooping. Weighed down with suppressed melancholy.
"Who's that guy?" He asked pointing to the man
"That... Im assuming is the general." Chris mumbled in reply.
"Oh"
He didn't have to wait long for confirmation
"A'right" he boomed "thank you pansies for turning up. I am your General, you may all call me General McPherson. Now, I bet you're all wondering what in the name of God's mouldy right flip flop is going on. Well... You are going to fight. And I am going to have to give you an iddy bit of training, just enough so that nobody gets hurt"
A mumble of discontent spread through the crowd, scattering like broken pottery.
"Now, don't be frightened of actually getting hurt, nobody will die, unless they are particularly stupid and throw 'emselves onto a landmine or something"
The mumbling was picked up again but this time it was louder
"of course I joke. Her royal Madge wants you all safe and bubble wrapped for the benifit of your health and safety. So after you're done, you can go back to your lives and your money and your families to continue whatever work you do. Don't tell me about it, I don't care.
But as of now, I am as good as your god. So no running away.
Now, I forgot to mention-
"Anything actually worthwhile?"
"An explanation. At the moment the richies in Government are running around like headless chickens trying to stop world war 3 from happening... And we all know that they're about as much use as a chocolate ruddy teapot. So the ARMY are crapping themselves, because we need more hands on deck as it were. And so we come to you, the pacifists, the rich kids, the... Celebrities who usually get away without seeing heads blown to pieces, splintering rib cages and the like.
And if, or I should probably say WHEN world war 3 breaks out, you will be the first. In. Line. And then, the kids will be fawning over you, begging to join the fun to mingle with the stars and feel like very important people for once in their sad little lives. Not that I myself am bitter.
Anyway I ramble on.
Tomorrow you will be driven FROM HERE to France, where we've set up a lovely little outpost in some field somewhere. There's lovely little farm houses to sleep in and fortifications to build and dig, and they're not from IKEA. So you will have to work. If anyone has any questions, don't ask me I only give orders. Now, off you pop and I'll see you tomorrow."
