‘I say Swift, are you aware Mr Boche is out there, bold as you please?’ Crassus shrieked as he reached Johnny. ‘Why aren’t you walloping them, don't you fancy yourself a crack shot?’
'I'm better with paper targets.’ Johnny smiled, he’d recently beaten Crassus in a battalion shooting contest.
‘Yes, had one of your old regulars teach you marksmanship, I gather?’ Crassus’s tone suggested Johnny had cheated.
‘Knowing how to handle a rifle comes in handy when the enemy snipers get a bit lively,’ Johnny said. The last thing he had wanted to do was get involved in the perpetual game of one-upmanship that Crassus engaged in with the world.
‘I prefer a bayonet myself, a lot less fussy,’ Crassus retorted, raising a chuckle from Williams.
Crassus glanced around at the men eating bully beef. The sight made Johnny feel slightly downhearted. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.
‘The wonders of the modern world, Swift. Don’t you think it’s incredible that we’re able to keep all these men on the line with canned food, rather than having them idle in winter accommodation?’
‘I don’t know, Dawkins. The tradition has always been to fight in the spring, but now we can sustain an army in the field indefinitely, it’s all a touch mercantile,’ Johnny said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He couldn’t believe that someone could talk like that in front of men living in this icebound waste.
Crassus gave Johnny a filthy look. Johnny knew his comment had been a bit near the knuckle. Crassus’s people owned a chain of grocers and were indeed more than a touch mercantile. Some wit in the officers’ mess had gone so far as to name him after the richest man in ancient Rome.
‘You do talk rot sometimes, Swift,’ Crassus said acidly. ‘I take it you’re aware that a new division is currently being formed from some of the finest regiments in the British Army?’
‘Yes the 29th, you have mentioned it.’
Johnny heard a call from no man’s land and started to lose patience. ‘Look Crassus, it was thoughtful of you to come and have a chat, but was there something you wanted?’
‘Well as a matter of fact I brought your mail.’ Crassus produced a letter from inside his trench coat. There was enough light for Johnny to see his name elegantly written in violet ink.
‘I say that’s most awfully decent of you.’ Johnny almost liked him at that moment.
‘It isn’t done to use a superior’s nickname, especially one as beastly as that, in front of the men.’
‘I’m sorry Lieutenant Dawkins. I didn’t mean to undermine your authority any further.’ Johnny would have said anything at that point. Crassus bowed courteously and passed him the letter.
Johnny ripped open the envelope and read the letter twice within a single match strike. “I’m not your plucky little sweetheart. Yours Lady Elizabeth Smyth etc etc.”
'Bad news? Hard lines Swift, but I’ve got a bit of a stunt on at the moment.’ Crassus cut through Johnny’s bitterness. ‘Plenty of glory to go round and you’re a half decent officer, despite everything.’
Johnny stuffed the letter into his box of tricks. ‘So is this what you do? Swank about the frontline looking for “stunts” to help bolster your posting to the 29th?’
‘Oh come now Swift, you can’t win a war hiding in ditches. England expects you to do your bit!’ Crassus said and pulled at his moustache.
‘Hey, Mr Tommy, have you any jam?’
The call came out of nowhere, unsettling Crassus. ‘Good God if you won’t do something about the Boche I will.’
Johnny climbed up the side of the trench and heaved his head over the disintegrating parapet.
‘Yes, Mr Fritz, we have apple and plum jam,’ Johnny called back in German and saw the surprise on Crassus’s face. He winked at him and added, ‘we’re a veritable grocer’s shop.’
‘You speak German, Swift!’ Crassus asked unable to comprehend what he was witnessing.
‘Yes, one of my many languages,’ Johnny replied. ‘Don’t you?’
‘You sound like a native Swift, have you a touch of Prussian?’
‘My German master at school served in the Pomeranian Grenadiers during the Franco-Prussian war,’ Johnny said in mitigation.
‘We’d be very interested in making a trade with you, Tommy,’ the German called back.
‘Splendid, I take it that you will stick to the rules, Fritz?’ Johnny asked, switching back to German.
‘Yes, we will play within the rules, all very proper and correct.’ The German responded. Johnny thought he heard laughter.
‘Alright, Corporal Williams, tea time’s over. Get the men organised for fatigue. Usual rules apply,’ Johnny said, climbing down from the parapet.
‘You actually fraternise with the Germans?’ Crassus seethed.
‘A bit of bravado with the enemy works wonders for morale. Keeps the men’s spirits up if they see their officers looking the enemy in the eye.’ Johnny said, trying to sound confident.
‘I see.’ Crassus was evidently not convinced, but he wanted something and didn’t pursue it.
‘Won’t you be joining us, sir? The water’s lovely!’ Williams called leading the wiring party over the top. Ordinarily Johnny would have gone out with them, but he wanted to keep Crassus away from no man’s land.
Crassus flustered. ‘It doesn’t do to be overly friendly with the men under one’s command, Swift. I’d have put any man who spoke to me like that on a charge.’
‘I used to,’ Johnny lied, ‘but I found that as quickly as I’d place a man on a charge the offence would be washed out for gallant conduct in the field.’
‘Good God Swift, I can’t believe how inordinately slack you are. You might be a temporary gentleman and a reservist, but you’re still a gentleman!’
‘Aren’t you a temporary gentleman, Crassus?’ Johnny asked.
‘I still have seniority over you, by nearly two years.’
‘I was still at school two
