Chapter 73

Whistles. It always starts with whistles. The high-pitched noise slices through the trenches and cuts away whispered prayers and shared jokes. I close my eyes, but you can't block out the whistle.

It only took a matter of days to realise war was not as glamorous or exciting as the posters made it out. Some soldiers, unable to cope, deserted. If caught, they were executed for their cowardice. I lacked even the courage to run and so found my own way to cope.