Supernatural; World War, 1914-1918; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
The long dull plains of northern Europe stretched before Tim's
gaze--great undulations of hard, hot earth and waving grass. He'd been
marching all day, and it was hot. Hot!... ye Gods!... On those plains it
was like a Turkish bath. Then "down" came the order, and the battalion
flung itself to the ground. Oh, but it was good to rest! Towards sunset
the clouds piled up blacker and blacker, and some hung frothy over the
ridge in the distance. As the sun dropped, the west turned red--all
blood red--and he heard the order to march. He heard the word passed
down the line in half whispers, and the impressive sound of regiments
getting under arms came to his ears. Another five miles they marched
and halted for tea. Then all the men became very silent--and while they
rested they talked in whispers as they watched the awful sky. When it
grew dark the flick-flack of lightening played across the sky and it
showed the men's faces white and drawn. Presently Tim's Company
lieutenant came up with the news that they would not be able to rest
until morning as they had anticipated. There could be no stopping, for
the regiment had to reach the rendezvous at daybreak. As the storm
rolled nearer, the wind got up, in puffs--first warm and then cold, and
a few drops of rain fell--great drops that fell flop-flop-flop--on Tim's
face. With a flash that leapt crackling over the plain, the storm loosed
itself. The lightning turned the rain into sheets of glittering silver,
and the hot ground fairly boiled. Tim, with a thousand others drenched,
and blinded, struggled over the slippery turf. That was a storm. Tim
could have seen to read; and the thunder wrestled in the low churning
clouds like a million devils, and through it all ran the chorus of wind
and lashing rain. Presently the storm lessened and died away, and the
rain settled to pour down on them for an hour or so. The squelch-squelch
of soaking boots and the creaking of leather equipment was all he heard.
They halted for breakfast, and Tim chewed his rations sitting on the
sodden ground in sodden clothes; and as he sipped his lukewarm coffee,
he shivered in the coming dawn.
Almost immediately they went on again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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