Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

girl," gasped Lexington at one point, clearly fighting back screams. And then, later: "Thank you, sir."
    Fairview nodded. Reaching down to his belt, he pulled out his own water bottle. Cradling Lexington's head in his arm, he raised it high enough to allow Lexington to swallow the water. Healer Mahone, grumbling something about possible abdominal wounds, tried to step forward, but I held him back. I could guess what would come next.
    Lexington gave a great sigh and closed his eyes. Fairview waited a moment to be sure they would stay closed. Then he laid Lexington carefully down and placed his hand gently over Lexington's eyes. With his free hand, he drew his bayonet blade.
    The stretcher-bearers turned their gazes away.
    It was not until Fairview and I had reached the General's rock again – dodging bullets all the way – that Fairview spoke. "It wasn't your fault, Rook," he said. "I was the commanding officer on this hill; it was my responsibility to give the order that your trench be cleared of the wounded."
    "Fairview—" Further words stuck in my throat as I watched Fairview crouch down on the grass to clean the blood off his bayonet. Finally I said, "Lexington wasn't your responsibility. I should have been the one who did what you did."
    Standing and sheathing his bayonet in its scabbard, Fairview looked over his shoulder at where the stretcher-bearers were carefully lifting one of the other wounded men onto a stretcher. Lexington lay where they had left him, as still as the other corpses in the trench, blood still oozing out from the wound in his heart. "I hope that the Fates will forgive me," said Fairview softly. "I've heard that they dislike it when men usurp their role."
    "Sweet blood, man, don't talk that way. It's not your fault—"
    And then I stopped. I stopped, not because of the look Fairview was giving me, but because I was remembering, as he remembered, all the times he and I had said with bitterness: "An officer is responsible for the actions of his men."
    Fairview scratched at where a stray bullet had sent a line of blood across his shoulder, ripping his shirt as it went. "Do you recall how often I talked about how we might have the good luck to be promoted in the field?"
    I made no reply. Fairview's gaze went beyond me: to the men who had died, the men who were dying, and the men who were waiting for their own turn to come. He said quietly, "I'm beginning to understand why the General always had worry wrinkles on his forehead."
    Then he said nothing more, for the shells were beginning to fall fast and thick, and so we both had our duties.
    CHAPTER 10
    THE BULLETS WAS LIKE RAIN
    Diary entry by Private Jones of the Fifth Light Infantry:
    "24th July ordered to move again as fast as possible in single rank and a large interval between each man and for the first time we thought we were in for a rough time of it, and we was.
    We ascended Spy Hill, and it was a most difficult job to climb, it being so steep; and also allowing the wounded to be carried down. General Pentheusson I passed going up. He was being carried down on a stretcher, and those who could speak of the wounded was saying its worse than a Slaughter House up there; that did not improve our feelings, but of course we had to go.
    I saw several Colonials loaded with water, lose their footing and fell to the bottom, when near the top we were greeted by a shower of bullets and a lot of our men fell at once.
    It was a tremendous fire meet us here, and dead and wounded and dying was awful and the groaning was sickening, I was lying on the ground firing with the remainder on the extreme left of the firing line, and Sergeant Smitt was talking and telling me where to fire; he was hit through the nose, he was my right hand man, and directly after this a young fellow was shot on my left.
    Soon after this I was ordered to go to the Main Trench with a message, as it was not safe to lift your head up off the ground I did not like the job, but I had to do it and there was little time for thinking, so I said a prayer to myself and off I went, and the bullets was like rain round me."
    ****
    I reached the main trench. The crossfire had died down somewhat, so Fairview had emerged from the safety of the General's rock in order to inspect the installation of sandbags at the breastwork of the left flank's trench. There were only enough sandbags to cover three yards of the trench.
    "Are more supplies coming?" were Fairview's first words to me.
    I shook my head