1916
The Aussies have arrived and brought with them an uplifting mood of joviality. Even the most weary amongst us are lifted by their laughter and cheekiness.
Jimmy, of course, is in his element with a new crowd of clowns to socialise with. All of us are swept away by their devil may care attitude.
Of course, along with them has come a hive of activity amongst the commanding officers, whispered arguments on how and when to launch our attack. The main officer is a small, thin slip of a man with a pencil moustache and a nervous twitch. He seems constantly on edge and not at all prepared to send a bunch of his fellow men to their deaths. It seems insane that because he was born to a rich family he's automatically given a high position and the power of mortality over us.
Jimmy is less concerned with this thought than I am. He's spend the past 24 hours delighting in becoming an honorary Australian and as I'm making my way along the trench I hear him shout me over. As I approach I see him stood with a thin fair haired man, Jimmy's huge frame making the lad seem even smaller.
"Harry! This is Luke." He says excitedly. I reach forward to shake Luke's hand as Jimmy carries on his continuous stream of chatter.
"This is my very best friend Harry." He says and as always, I feel a slight warmth at his eager words. "We've been here four weeks. Luke's just come from Normandy, haven't you Luke?" He addresses both of us at the same time. Luke nods to confirm this.
"What's it like up there?" I ask.
"Bloody awful. Absolute blood shed, honestly they were just wasting us, sending us up armed with rifles against machine guns." He shakes his head. "It was murder, we didn't even get near the Germans before our whole bloody battalion was wiped out. That's why they've sent us here, you're short on men and we are now, we lost three quarters of us in a single day. Those officers are bastards." He says loudly.
Both me and Jimmy shush him, worried at who will be listening in.
"Nah, I'm not bothered." Luke grins, still talking at the same volume. "What they gonna do? Put me in military prison? They're welcome to do it if it saves me from their bloody incompetence."
Jimmy is staring at Luke in admiration and I groan to myself.
"They'll have you up in front of a firing squad." I mutter.
"I'm not bothered." Luke shrugs cheerfully. "Quick death isn't it? Either way they're going to kill me."
"Why did you sign up?" Jimmy asks, helping himself to the cigarette I'd just sparked for myself.
"I was invited too."
"By who?"
"A magistrate." Luke grins cheekily as Jimmy laughs. Even I can't help a smile. "My choice was go to a prison or sign up for war, figured in a prison camp I'd be dead in months, at least here I have a chance to survive... That's if the bloody idiots don't kill me off with their stupid orders first."
"What did you do?" Jimmy asks excitedly.
"I rustled a few sheep. Big crime in Oz." He grins wolfishly and both me and Jim smile at him.
Later that night the three of us sit round a fire and talk about home. Jimmy proudly pulls out his picture of Ellen and Luke shares his own picture of a stunningly beautiful girl.
"What about you Harry? You got a girl at home?"
"No." Jimmy beats me too it, looking almost protective.
"Ah I see." Luke's piercing blue eyes fix themselves on me.
"See what?" Jimmy asks cluelessly.
"Well, the thing is Jimmy, some of us come to war because they're sold some lie about glory, like you. Some come because they have no bloody choice, like me. But some... Well some come to forget. You're not the first I've met Harry and you won't be the last." He says perceptively. I shift uncomfortably beneath his understanding smile. I'm saved from responding by the arrival of another soldier.
Private Percy Peters, or pigeon as we all call him, on account of his weirdly puffed out chest. He's a dark, swarthy slip of a man with pockmarked skin and a constantly down turned mouth.
"Alright Pige?" Jimmy greets him.
"No I'm not flaming all right and you won't be either." Pigeon replies darkly.
"What's up?"
"I'll tell you what's up, we're going over the top in two days and they've given us that little commander with the 'tache who doesn't have a clue what he's doing."
The news brings silence to our group and we look round at each other glumly.
"Still, could be worse." Luke says suddenly.
"How could it possibly be worse?" Pige mutters.
"Well, we could be sat here without this." He draws his hand into his pocket and gives us a peek as the bottle of brandy he's got stashed there, careful not to attract the attention of any others nearby. Jimmy and I give an excited little laugh, even Pige gives a rare smile.
Usually I never drink but, as with every other time I've been about to go into battle, I throw caution to the wind. Something about facing death makes you want to be reckless, live a little before you face it. In the trenches the only way to do this is to bet everything you own on a card game or get steaming drunk on some contraband.
We find a quiet corner and set up a card game, taking turns to pass the bottle for a furtive sip. It's not long before we feel the effect. Strong alcohol and small food portions have the effect we wanted. Eventually we begin to sing, a rude Australian song that Luke teaches us, even Pige joins in with his warbling reedy voice.
After about ten minutes another soldier approaches and tells us that he knows we're drinking and if we don't shut up with the horrific singing he'll report us. We wait until he's walked away before bursting into giggles like naughty school children.
The hours pass quickly, somehow Luke manages to produce a second bottle of the illegal brandy and we are still whispering late into the night, unbothered by the loud cannons and flares that start up as soon as the moon makes her appearance.
We talk of home, swap funny stories and jokes, even Pige manages to find a few for us. Luke's are the best though, he tells us all about his strange hot land, kangaroos and his escapades before he was caught and tried by a jury.
Pige passes out first, mid sentence he begins to slur and suddenly he's gone. Jimmy laughs loudly but he's only a few drinks away from it himself. I drift in and out of the conversation and it takes me a while before I realise that all 3 are passed in a drunken slumber.
I stand unsteadily with a sudden burning urge for the toilet and make my way to the latrines, bouncing unsteadily from the sides of the trench walls.
Once I'm done I make my way to a small dark corner. I know it well, it was my usual place away from others before Jimmy arrived and breathed an odd sense of life into me.
I settle down comfortably, my head swimming slightly.
"I wonder where you are?" I hiccup, gazing up at a thin steam of smoke from a flare that disappears into the night.
"I loved you. I gave..." The happiness of alcohol has been displaced by the depression it can bring. "I gave you everything. But it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough." I whisper sadly.
My mind wanders back to that night, that first night and the three days that we were holed up together afterwards. We made love for hours. We talked, laughed, giggled. I showed her how to cook and she read me poetry into the night. Three whole blissful days we had until the snow began to thaw. We ignored it for as long as we could until she had to slip back to the manor. No matter how many logs I placed on the fire, it never seemed as warm as it had when she was there.
"It was after that though wasn't it?" I address the night sky, speaking to the ghost of a memory. "Everything was perfect until... Until..."
My drunken mind dredges up images of the year that followed. Although we never got another 3 blissful days alone again, we found our ways. We'd steal off to make love for hours under the willow tree. Evelyn would pretend she needed something from town and we would take the horse and cart and spend the day exploring the countryside as far from the estate as we dared. One night she pretended to visit a friend in London and spent the night at my cottage. Once, just once, I sneaked into her luxurious room and the thrill was intensified by the forbiddeness of the whole thing.
The whole time, despite the fact that they were the best days of our lives, we had our eye on the future. Rumours of trouble in Europe didn't bother us. We talked for hours about America and what would come next. Just two years we said, just two years and Evie would receive her trust fund that was promised for her 20th birthday and I, still saving every penny I had, would book our tickets and we would leave.
Of course, it couldn't last. Her father was furious at his daughter running wild across the estate, although he never suspected I was the cause of it, his anger was intensified when she refused to debut into society, or entertain the notion of finding a husband. He began to throw huge, lavish parties, inviting everyone of decent birth who could attend. Evie didn't care, she would slip away when the party was in full swing to find me.
That was until July 19th 1913.
The day he arrived and knocked me from my pedestal.