Language in the Blood, Page 4

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  As we waited for hours in the trenches, nerves finally set in. We were told to put our gas masks on and sit tight ready for orders. A few of the lads began to get nervous and some seemed to have trouble breathing. One or two of them began to rip their masks off.

  ‘Keep them on,’ barked the sergeant furiously, but for Wee Tam it was already too late. Our own gas had been blown back over our trenches and Tam had taken a good couple of lungfuls. We could do nothing but watch as he was taken away on a stretcher, gasping for air and screaming in agony. I was sure he was going to die. At around half past six in the morning, we were ordered over the top regardless. As we ran towards the German lines, tears streamed down my face.

  Hardly any time had passed when a sharp pain in my shoulder stopped me in my tracks. Then a shot to the stomach dropped me to the ground. I cried in pain as I held my stomach and tried to stop the flow of blood. I lay, drifting deliriously in and out of consciousness, until nightfall. An animal must have been attracted by my open wounds as I felt something licking the blood, but I was too weak to push it away. It moved from my stomach to my shoulder wound, then – vicious and sudden – its sharp fangs penetrated my neck. I felt my life draining away as it bit deeper and I lost consciousness completely. When I came to again, a man was sitting close to me. He had his wrist above my mouth and I thought he must have been injured too, as his blood was dripping on to my lips. It tasted sweet and was strangely intoxicating and I found myself grabbing his wrist to drink more deeply. He pulled away his arm leaned in close and whispered in my ear:

  ‘Take heed. The Germans are no longer your enemy. The sun and the whole of humanity is. Kill them or be killed. We will spend the day underground together and when the sun sets we will part ways.’

  I was barely conscious and grateful someone was there with me so I let him bury us with sand and slept a dreamless sleep. When I woke up it was night and I was alone again.

  I felt fine, like nothing had happened at all. My two wounds seemed to have healed miraculously, and if I hadn’t found myself in the middle of the craters and barbed wire I’d have thought I’d dreamed getting shot and the strange visitation.

  I decided to make my way back to the trench and instinctively decided I should leave my bloodied tunic and shirt behind. I soon found out that we had managed to capture the town of Loos and there I caught up with my unit. I told them I had become so tangled in barbed wire that it had taken me this long to wriggle free and that my clothing was still out there. They gave me a whisky and a blanket and seemed very pleased to see me back.

  Hootie sat next to me and gave me one of his fags.

  ‘You’re really all right, Blairy?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so,’ I said, drawing on my cigarette.

  ‘You didn’t see Big Tam and Malckie out there?’ he asked me after a while.

  ‘They didn’t come back?’ I had wondered where they were.

  ‘Nah. Naebody kens what’s happened to them.’

  It turned out quite a few of the lads from our unit were missing; losses at the battle of Loos had been heavy. We sat smoking together quietly until we fell asleep where we sat.

  I woke up with the sun searing my face. I screamed and pulled the blanket over my head. When Hootie saw the blisters on my face he helped me to the field hospital and told the doctor I couldn’t tolerate light and that the sun was burning me. The doctor frowned and asked if I’d taken my gas mask off during the attack.

  As he was talking to me I felt my blisters starting to heal just as my wounds had done and realised something had changed in me and that the stranger was responsible. His words kept coming into my head... Take heed. The Germans are no longer your enemy. The sun and the whole of humanity is. Something told me it would soon be hard, and perhaps risky, trying to explain things.

  The ominous words forced themselves repeatedly into my mind kill or be killed. I didn’t feel like killing anybody, I just wanted time to find out what was going on with me. I was scared and knew there was no one I could turn to. I’d read a few penny dreadfuls and whilst the conclusion seemed far-fetched, the symptoms were eerily familiar. The doctor had left me in a windowless room and gone to attend to the many wounded – apart from the horrendous blisters I must have seemed fine and happy just to be left in the dark, but I began to feel like a trapped animal.

  As night fell, and my uneasiness grew, I panicked. I understood that my old life, my friends, the army and my family all had to be left behind. I became a deserter.