Fifty-five: POWs

That night, a soldier woke me up after I had been allowed to collapse in my room in exhaustion. My muscles ached all over. I was told to collect my spade and was led back out to the field. A line of people knelt in the dark on top of the grave I had just dug last night. I sneezed and coughed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. I was still muddy and wet. Hadn't had a chance to shower or change. Too tired.

I recognised the POWs by their shapes and saw Shaun among them. Still alive, kneeling in the mud. The POWs had been good to me. I didn't want to bury them.

"No," I whispered, grabbing hold of the soldier's hand. "Please, no."

The soldier shook me off him and joined the other soldiers there.

"No," I cried, falling to my knees in front of the soldiers, reaching for their hands, arms, clothes, anything I could reach. They kicked me away.

Burying dead people was one thing. Seeing them killed in front of me was another.

Scrambling for the soldiers, I cried for the POWs' lives.

Wobbly Nose slapped me and grabbed me by the throat to shut me up. I choked and struggled and the POWs shuffled until a gunshot made them stay still.

"She's hot," he pushed me away, putting the back of his hand to my forehead. "Must have caught a cold."

"Maybe we should just kill her too," another soldier suggested. "Useless if she's sick."

"We can't. She's sort of important. The higher ups want her kept alive for something. Besides, she's one of the good workers. Hardly ever complains and does a good job. If we kill her, we'd have to find another gravedigger. All the others would drag their feet. Besides, if the higher ups hear she got sick because of us, we'll get in trouble."

"Isn't her work partner one of these guys? We can always kill him later. He can help look after her for now if she's sick and he won't complain at being given the chance to live and properly bury his friends."

"The higher ups want all of them dead tonight," Wobbly Nose said. "Who are we to question orders?"

"They won't know if we don't tell them."

"But then there won't be enough rations to go around."

"Then don't report the woman that got killed by accident yesterday."

"That's a good idea," Wobbly Nose said. "Why didn't I think of that? All right, the two can work together to dig the grave. Get the man out here and give him a spade."

Shaun put his hand to my forehead.

"You've got a fever," he said.

I shook my head at him, pulling away and started digging, wiping mud and tears from my eyes as I worked. It was faster to dig this grave with Shaun's help and the soldiers helped every now and then as well, seeming to want to get things done faster. They seemed nervous in front of the POWs for some reason. Were they worried they would attack? I doubted it. The POWs seemed pretty resigned.

"Don't cry over us, Jean," they told me while I dug. "It's not worth it."

But they were going to die. How could I not cry? Even if they were the enemy, they'd been nicer to me than many of our own soldiers. How could they ask me not to cry?

When the soldiers deemed the grave deep and wide enough, they gave the POWs a moment to themselves to say goodbye, while they half turned their backs. Shaun kept me by his side and many of the POWs gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek, thanking me. For what exactly, I didn't fully understand. I was going to bury them and I didn't want to do that.

"Take care of her," they told Shaun.

"I will," he said.

"All right," the soldiers pulled Shaun and I aside, forcing him onto his knees a distance away. "Hold onto the girl," they told him. "Remember you're only living on borrowed time because of her."

They held a gun to his head, so that he wouldn't try to help his mates and he hugged me to his chest. He was weeping himself. I heard a few sniffles from the soldiers as well, but whether it was because the crying was contagious or because they were cold, I didn't know.