Читать книгу All That Glitters - Martine Desjardins - Страница 14

VIII

THE SUN WAS SETTING. Peakes and I had taken up position in a slit trench that extended up to the main earthworks. An hour passed. Nothing happened.

Impatiently, I tossed back my ration of rum.

“How much longer are we to moulder here?”

“Just wait. Soon the nocturnal illuminations will begin.”

And so they did. Suddenly the black veil of the sky was torn by a star-light that spiraled upward until it seemed to touch the cloud ceiling. Then, slowly, it fell back to earth, dangling from a parachute dusted with magnesium that reflected its white glare across no-man’s-land. It looked for all the world like a lost traveller seeking his path in the middle of nowhere. Seizing on those few moments of brightness, our machine-gunners opened up on the enemy lines, firing through old blankets to conceal the flame, the bullets touching off sparks as they ricocheted through the barbed wire. Flashes of light appeared intermittently on the horizon, as though day were about to break, then thought better of it. The barrage had begun. Two rockets burst directly above us, their sparks falling in a girandole of glittering green sequins. I asked the lieutenant what the fireworks signified.

“Our men are signalling the artillery that their shells are falling short, and that we’re in danger of taking a hit. The eighteen-pounders must be re-aimed. Now’s the time to move.”

He heaved himself out of the trench, and I prepared to follow him.

“No. You stay here and wait for me.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve an errand to run.”

Without leaving me time to protest, he moved off, crawling beneath the barbed wire. Opposite us, the enemy had begun to fire its trench mortars. Fascinated, I watched as a monstrous worm emerged from a roiling puff of fiery powder. Its feeble whine grew louder, becoming an ear-splitting whistle. Curious: the worm seemed not to be moving at all. Suddenly, I heard Peakes cry out.

“Run, Dulac! The shell is heading right for you!”

Even before the shell exploded, a blast of burning air struck me full in the face and I felt myself thrown from the trench. The explosion rang out, so loud it absorbed its own noise. My ears roared. My bones cracked. Around me, shrapnel drummed down like hailstones on a tin roof.

Someone attempted to drag me feet-first toward the trench. I resisted.

“Let go! I can get there myself.”

“You’re not wounded?”

Incredulous, Peakes repeated the question. I touched myself once. Then again.

“I’m still in one piece. Not even a scratch.”

“There’s nothing left of the trench. You should have been turned into mince-meat.”

“Call it beginner’s luck.”

The barrage had begun to slacken. We found two adjoining foxholes where we could spend the night.

“What about your errand, lieutenant?”

He showed me his canteen.

“A half-pint of water from the Lys. Apparently this water has the ability to dye thread the colour of fire. I promised Miss Nell I would bring her some.”

The sun had not yet risen, but the birds had already perched atop the coils of barbed wire, and were beginning to chirp. The smell of breakfast wafted down the communication trench. For today, at least, the festivities were over.