Dreams

With Remembrance Day this month, our Chapter of the Month pays tribute to the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve the freedom later generations would enjoy. Let us never forget that sacrifice, nor the reasons it was needed. Dreams comes from Trinity of Souls, first instalment in the Souls Series.

A night later, Ben dreamed of Sarah again. But she was Sarah O’Shaughnessy, a nurse at the field hospital in Flanders. He was Billy Davies, a private in the Welsh Fusiliers, wounded on the front line. He was a brave boy; as brave as anyone could be in the living hell he and his mates endured every day.

Some of the boys had taken their rifle, pointed it at their foot and pulled the trigger. In the early days, it often got them the honourable discharge they hoped for. But it didn’t always work out that way. Owain Carter’s foot became infected, complications set in, and he died on the operating table. Then there was poor Davey Halfpenny. The lieutenant had seen him shoot himself. Davey was put on a charge, court-martialled for cowardice and shot by a firing squad. They waited for his foot to heal first. What was it the general said? “Procedure, gentlemen; we must follow procedure.”

Bloody madness, all of it: if you’re going to shoot a man, what does it matter whether his bloody foot’s healed? Still, what’s another mad thing around here anyway?

He had to laugh when he remembered Tommy Cuthbert though. Missed his bloody foot six times he did. Then he managed to shoot Johnny Williams instead. Johnny got the honourable discharge, Tommy died at Ypres.

So, it was bad luck when a ricocheting bullet happened to hit Billy in the foot in almost exactly the same way as a self-inflicted wound. Bloody bad luck. It was bad enough his bloody foot hurt, but his mates saw it as a marvellous opportunity for a laugh at his expense. Still, they knew him well enough to know he’d never try to buy his ticket home that way. They were quick to leap to his defence when the officers started looking at his wound suspiciously. They were good lads really, all of them.

It probably helped his case that he’d fought on for another hour after being wounded. In the end, the officers realised it was just a bizarre coincidence and packed him off to the field hospital. The captain even gave him a note to show anyone who might doubt his commitment to King and Country.

And that was how he met Sarah.

*

Just fifteen years old and fresh off the boat from Ireland, Sarah had only been in Flanders three weeks, but had already seen unimaginable horrors. She had a strong stomach for a girl her age and coped well with most of it. It was only burnt flesh she couldn’t stand. Something about it made her feel peculiar.

She could see why the young private was embarrassed. His wound did have a superficial resemblance to a man who’d shot himself in the foot. However, she’d seen enough bullet wounds to know this bullet had been fired from much farther away. Still, she thought she’d tease him a bit; a little banter always cheered the lads up, especially when it came from a pretty nurse, “Well now, decided we wanted to go home, did we?”

“No miss, no, it’s not like that, honestly. See, I’ve got a note from the captain I have, it was...”

Realising she’d upset the boy more than she intended, she quickly reassured him, “Hush now, I’m only joshing with you, even one of these idiot doctors could see this bullet didn’t come from your own gun. It’s still in your foot though; it’ll have to come out.”

“Oh, right.” 

He sounded nervous. She felt a strange affinity for him. It was plain to see he was in a fair amount of pain, but was trying to hide it, even from her. She decided to tell him a few facts of life about the field hospital. The poor boy deserved a chance.

“Right, I’m going to tell you something... er, what’s your name?”

“Private William Edward Davies number 4126...”

“I’ll not be needing your number, William, you’re not on parade now.”

“Er, yeah, of course... er, it’s Billy; my mates call me Billy.”

“Alright, Billy, well the thing is this. It’s Butcher Bates on duty tonight. He’s about the worst doctor in the hospital. I’d rather go to Mr O’Sullivan, the butcher in me village back home, than let Bates take a knife to me. One boy came in with a flesh wound last week. The bullet was lodged in his shoulder, but a simple enough job to sort out. Bates made such a mess of it, the boy lost his arm.”

“Oh,” Billy’s face had turned as white as a sheet; “can I wait for another doctor?”

“No, Billy, you can’t. As soon as Bates comes over to examine you, he’ll have you up on the table and start hacking at you. The good lord only knows how much damage he’ll do before he’s finished.”

“What can I do, miss?”

“Well, Billy, there’s just one thing we can do. I can take it out for you before Bates sees you.”

“Oh please, would you?”

“I will if you’ll trust me?”

“I do, I trust you; but is it allowed?”

“No, it’s not; it’s against all the rules. I’m just a junior nurse; I’m not supposed to do anything like that. But I’ve helped me daddy on the farm since I was a little girl and I’ve seen enough in this place to know I can do a better job than Bates.”

“Won’t you get into trouble? I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble for me.”

“Oh, sure enough, they’d pack me off on the boat back home away from this awful place. I think that’s the kind of trouble I can handle.”

He grinned at her briefly, but then the pain swiftly returned to his face. “Alright then, can you do it for me, miss? Please?”

“There’s just one other thing, Billy.”

“What’s that, miss?”

“I won’t be able to use any anaesthetic. You’ll have to deal with the pain on your own, and you’ll have to be quiet.”

He gulped, “Alright, miss, I’ll try.”

She gave him a piece of cloth to bite down on and began work. Both of them tried to keep as quiet as possible. The moans that did escape his mouth were stifled by the cloth and lost in the general hubbub coming from the other wounded soldiers in the tent.

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he battled with the pain. She was sweating too as she battled with the bullet. It was trickier than she’d expected, the bullet had entered at a difficult angle and was lodged against the bone. She lost it twice as it slipped back into the hole, already held by the healing flesh around it. Finally, she pulled it free and disposed of it quickly, away from his cot.

“Well done, Billy, that’s the worst over now,” she began washing out his wound, glancing up anxiously every few seconds. She was almost done when she spotted Bates approaching. It was Billy’s turn for the butcher’s ministrations.

“How is this one, nurse? Looks like a bullet wound to the foot. Bit suspicious that.”

“No doctor, he’s a brave one this boy, he wouldn’t be doing anything like that at all. He has a note from his captain, he showed me he did. Very brave he is,” she stood up for her charge, protecting him like a lioness with a wounded cub.

“All right then, let’s have him up on the table, I shall need to cut the bullet out. It’ll be quicker if I use the large knife, plenty more men to see tonight.”

“Oh there’s no need for that, doctor, passed right through it has. I’m just cleaning out his wound then I can easily sew it up meself. He’ll be fine as he is. Up and about in no time he’ll be.”

“Hmmm, well I’d better take a look at the exit wound,” Bates took a step forward, but then he looked at the other men in the hospital tent: screaming, bleeding, crying for their mothers; dying. “Perhaps later though,” he turned away; “this one looks like he’s on the mend. I’ll leave him in your hands for now.”

Sarah and Billy looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief. She finished cleaning his wound then deftly sewed it up and applied a fresh bandage. “There, that’s nice and clean. It’ll heal up nicely as long as you look after it. Don’t trust the other nurses to change your dressing, some of them are silly girls from big houses who don’t know how to look after you properly. Make sure it’s changed twice a day. Insist on it, don’t be taken in when they say there’s no need, they’re just lazy cows they are.”

“Thank you miss, I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you for everything.”

She smiled at him then got up to leave, “Well, I think you’ll be alright now. Just remember what I said about your dressing. Twice a day now, you hear?” she started to walk away.

“Miss?” he called her back.

“What is it now? Me shift finished two hours ago, I’ve to get to me bed or I’ll be no use to you boys in the morning.”

“What’s your name, miss?”

“Well, Private William Edward Davies number 4126, you are addressing Junior Nurse Sarah Elizabeth Louise O’Shaughnessy of County Cork, so you are.”

“Blimey, that’s a big name for a little girl.”

“Not so much of the ‘little’ if you please. Don’t be forgetting who it was pulled that bullet out of your foot.”

“No, no, I won’t, I would never... I’ll never forget,” he was obviously anxious he might have offended her; he looked more horrified than when he’d faced the prospect of losing his foot. “No, I’m grateful to you, miss, truly I am. But I wondered if I could see you again? You know, after my foot’s better, when I get my next leave?”

“Well, William Davies, aren’t you the fast worker then?” she blushed a little, but bent down and spoke softly in his ear; “nurse’s quarters, Rue de La Bouvier, St Germaine. Best to come about seven o’clock. If I’m on day shift, I should be back by then,” she turned away and walked out of the tent, making sure he couldn’t see the enormous grin on her face.

*

Billy visited the nurse’s quarters every time he got any leave. It didn’t always work out. One time Sarah was on a double shift for most of his leave then too exhausted to do any more than say ‘Hello’. But, when it did work out, they grasped whatever time together they could get. Their love grew through the autumn of 1915 and into early 1916.

One fine warm day in April, they managed to go for a picnic. She’d saved up some food parcels from home and he’d got hold of a couple of bottles of beer. He needed the beer because it was time to be brave again.

He got down on one knee in the grass, took her hand and gazed up into the dazzling emerald-green eyes he’d come to love so much, “Nurse Sarah Elizabeth Louise O’Shaughnessy of County Cork, will you marry me?”

She looked down at him with tears in her eyes, “Yes, Corporal William Edward Davies number 41268955, I will marry you.”

They hugged and kissed in the Belgian sunshine. It was a moment of heaven in the midst of hell.

*

Legally, they couldn’t marry until her sixteenth birthday, on the Twenty-Eighth of June, but they didn’t want to wait a minute longer, so the ceremony was arranged to take place in the little church in St Germaine that same day.

Billy managed to get special leave for the wedding and a couple of days afterwards. He asked Sarah’s father for permission to take her hand in marriage through an exchange of letters. Her own letters contained enough tales of the handsome, courageous Billy to convince her father to agree to the union, so all was set.

On the morning of the Twenty-Eighth, Billy was getting ready to go off on leave when the captain called a parade in their trench.

Captain Smith was a fair man. Billy knew that what little he could do to make his men’s miserable, and often short, lives better, he did. So it was clear to Billy that Smith delivered the news with a heavy heart, trying to sound as positive as he could.

“General Mortimer has ordered our brigade to the Somme sector where we will be taking part in a special operation. I can tell you no more, but the general did specifically request our brigade which is, of course, a tremendous honour to the regiment, so I’m sure all you men will be proud of that... er...” Smith faltered, taking a moment to gather himself before continuing, “we move out at 1600 hours. All leave is cancelled forthwith. Dismissed”

Billy couldn’t believe his ears. The wedding! What was he going to do? How was he going to tell Sarah? This could not be happening. In a panic, he asked to see the captain. The officer let him into his makeshift office at one end of their section of trench. Smith spoke first, “I’m sorry, Corporal Davies, there’s nothing I can do.”

“But, begging your pardon, captain sir, the wedding... Sarah will be distraught; we were wanting to marry today. I want to do my duty, sir, I really do, but can’t you just give me one day?”

Smith sat down and took off his cap. He sighed as he studied the message lying on his desk. Putting it to one side, he seemed to make up his mind. Looking up, he said, “I can’t let you go to St Germaine, Billy, we would both be shot. But, if you can get Sarah here before four o’clock then, as your commanding officer, I can marry you here. It’s the best I can do.”

“Thank you, sir, you don’t know what this means to me sir,” Billy bolted out of the office to get a message to Sarah.

She arrived just before three-thirty. The muddy trench ruined the beautiful dress her father had sent all the way from Ireland, but she clearly didn’t care, “I’m marrying my Billy,” she smiled, “that’s all that matters.”

Sergeant Jones gave her away, Corporal Henson acted as best man, and Captain Smith conducted the hasty ceremony.

“You may now kiss the bride,” concluded Smith. Billy and Sarah kissed; the men cheered and clapped them both on the back. Smith smiled sadly, but warmly, at the newlyweds.

“Alright men, party’s over, on the truck with you,” Smith shouted. He turned to Billy, “You’ve got two minutes, son.”

The rest of the men left. Billy held Sarah tight for a long minute, then he stepped back and gently took her hands, “I’ll get back soon as I can then we’ll have our honeymoon. The captain’s promised me a seventy-two hour pass first chance he gets. He’s a good man, the captain; he’ll do right by us, I know.”

“Oh Billy, if only you didn’t have to go,” she was holding back the tears. Just.

“Now then, Mrs Sarah Elizabeth Louise Davies of Trench 6, Section 21, stiff upper lip and all that, it’s not like you to get all emotional on me now,” he was barely holding back his own tears.

“Yes, my husband, off with you then.”

He turned and walked to the waiting truck. This hurt more than when she’d taken the bullet out of his foot. Bless that wonderful bullet. It had taken him to her.

*

Thirty thousand men died on the First of July, 1916, the opening day of the Battle of the Somme. It achieved nothing, but the generals persisted with the same madness for weeks.

Captain Smith died courageously, leading his men. He was nominated for a posthumous Victoria Cross, but General Mortimer quashed it, claiming Smith had done ‘nothing particularly out of the ordinary’.

Billy was trying to pull the wounded Sergeant Jones to safety. They’d nearly made it to a shell crater when they got caught in some barbed wire. Billy freed Jones first but got his arm tangled up in the process. He was trying to free himself when a stream of machine gun bullets hit him in the chest.

Jones crawled the last few yards to the crater. Thanks to Billy, he survived. Billy’s body was never found.

Two months later, the sergeant was able to tell Sarah how brave Billy had been, how he’d saved his life. It was a small comfort to the sobbing virgin widow who’d had two minutes of married life with the man she loved.

After the war, she remarried. She was still young, after all. Gordon was a good man, but she never truly loved him. She did find love once more, with Brendan O’Doyle, many years later, but he was really too young for her. He hadn’t even been born when Billy died. It was funny how alike they were though.