Chapter 6. Opaque

Winston wasn't sure where he was.

He was lying on a blanket out in the open and wounded

soldiers were being left on the ground beside him.

He rubbed his eyes and noticed that straw coloured twine

had been wrapped around one of his wrists. Looking closer he

saw it was a necklace and attached to it was a small pendant

with a "V" on it. He had no idea where it had come from

or who it belonged to.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

He recognised the voice.

"Don't sit up Winston."

It was Harry Patch - one of the ambulance transport officers

who sometimes came forward to retrieve the wounded from

the regimental aid posts.

"How'd I get here Patch?"

"You don't remember?"

Winston tried, but couldn't.

"Do you know where you are?" Harry asked.

The question bothered him, he often asked wounded

soldiers the same thing to judge their level of

consciousness. Winston looked around.

"Outside the casualty clearing center by the looks of it."

Harry nodded.

"You've got a head wound. The Doctor will come and

have a look at you after he's finished with the worst of the

other lads. That bullet parted your hair quite nicely when

it bounced off that thick Yorkshire skull of yours."

A wave of tiredness washed over Winton, he closed his eyes.

Harry put his hand on Winstons' shoulder.

"I'm sorry to say old son that it's not enough to get you a

ticket home - so rest up while you can."

*

When Winston sat up again, Harry was gone.

He was still on a blanket outside of the casualty

clearing center and wounded soldiers were still being

laid out beside him. Sheets now covered the faces of some

of the men closest to him. Winston started to remember what

had happened. He hadn't felt any pain when he was shot in

the head. He'd stumbled forward as if he'd been unexpectedly

pushed.

Then he remembered being shot twice in the back.

How was that possible?

The bullets had exited out of his chest and he'd felt his breath

pulled out of his body. In a panic Winston felt his chest.

His uniform was stiff with crusted blood, there was no wound,

there was no soreness, there was nothing.

He'd seen this sort of thing before.

The morphine that was given as pain relief sometimes

played tricks on a shocked soldiers' mind.

Winston lay back.

He put his hands over his eyes and almost at once re-lived

being shot in the side of the face. It was a stinging sensation

like being splashed with boiling water.

Blind in one eye, he instinctively put a hand over the wound

and his fingers had touched the exposed bone of his cheek

and eye socket.

Why did it seem so real, if it didn't actually happen?

Winston tried to gather his thoughts.

There had been someone else there with him.

They'd been talking.

At once he knew who it was - Finn.

*