Chapter 6. Memory

Winston wasn't sure where he was. He was lying on a

blanket in the open and wounded soldiers were being left

on the ground beside him.

He rubbed his eyes and noticed a thin jewellery chain

wrapped around his wrist - 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. "What happened Harry?"

"You don't remember?"

Winston shook his head and it hurt.

"I was at the aid post when Finn bought you in. Do you

know where you are?"

The question unsettled him, he asked wounded soldiers

the same thing to judge their level of consciousness.

Winston looked around. "Outside the casualty clearing

centre by the looks of it."

Harry nodded. "That's a good start. You've got a head

wound Winston. The Doctors will come and have a look

at you after they're finished with the worst of the lads.

The bullet that parted your hair so nicely bounced off

that thick Yorkshire skull of yours."

Tiredness washed over Winston. He lay back and tried to

keep his eyes open but couldn't.

"Rest up old son," Harry said." you might get a week or two

to mend behind the lines 0n the coast, but it's not enough to

get a ticket home."

*

When Winston woke up Harry was gone.

He was still on the ground outside the casualty clearing

centre. Sheets now covered the faces of some of the men

closest to him.

Pieces of memory started to return.

Winston hadn't felt any pain when he was shot in the

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

pushed. He remembered being shot in the back - the bullet

had come out his chest pulling the air in his lungs with it.

How was it possible?

He felt his chest - his uniform was stiff with crusted blood

but there was no wound, there was nothing.

Winston knew that the morphine given as pain relief

sometimes played tricks on a wounded soldier's mind.

He lay back and tried to make sense of it - and almost at

once re-lived being shot in the side of the face.

It was a stinging, scalding sensation like being splashed with

boiling water. He'd put a hand up to his face and his fingers

had touched the exposed bone of his cheek and

eye socket. Why did it seem so real, if it wasn't.

He still had vision in both eyes. Winston looked at the pendant

wrapped around his wrist.

Harry had told him that Finn had bought him in.

How had he done that?

*