‘Better than the alternative order where we had to spend the day relieving theSixth,’ Leonard answered, tucking into his dinner.
‘But that only means that they’re still stuck in the trenches,’ Charlesmuttered. ‘Poor buggers.’
‘Rather them than me,’ Edward said. ‘I want to get back home in onepiece. The less time I spend at the end of Fritz’s gun barrels thebetter.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Leonard said, raising his glass of rum. ‘Happy Christmas,folks. Let’s hope we don’t see another one on active service.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Charles said, his glass joining the others above thetable.
From the end of the room a gravely, throaty cough drew the attention of themen: conversations lulled and cutlery was placed down. Another cough andthe room fell silent. Major Carmichael, standing on a wooden crate,pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. He was a short manwith a generous sprouting of grey ear and nasal hair. ‘Good afternoon,men,’ he began in his clipped voice. ‘I would just like to interrupt yourmeal, if I may, to say a few words. I shan’t ramble on for toolong. First of all, on behalf of the lieutenant colonel, I would like toexpress gratitude to the officers, NCOs, and men of the Royal Sussex for theirfine conduct under what has proven to be very trying and difficultcircumstances during these opening months of war. The regiment’sdiligence and dedication has not been without its losses; the iron regimenthas suffered greatly. However, with a new year ahead of us and new bloodswelling the ranks, I know we shall prevail in our just fight. Andin recognition of the entire British Army’s endeavours, you have been issuedwith Christmas cards from their Majesties the king and queen and also a giftsent on behalf of Princess Mary, from the nation, which I trust you shall takegreat pleasure in opening. All that remains now, is for me to wish youall a very pleasant Christmas Day. Orders have been received that weshall be moving off at six am tomorrow to relieve the Sixth. HappyChristmas.’
The room was instantly ignited with chatter.
‘Well, that speech ended on a high note—Jesus, talk about a good way to ruin aday,’ Edward complained.
‘Happy Christmas one and all,’ Leonard said, mimicking the major’s voice. ‘But tomorrow you’re back at the front.’
Charles shook his head dismally and tried to filter out all extraneous thoughtsso that he was left alone, imagining that he was enjoying Christmas dinner withNellie and Alfred. He wondered what they were doing right at this verymoment. He greatly hoped that they were warm, fed and happy. Ifthat were true then he could cope with anything that the British Army threw athim.
The Christmas cards from the king and queen, along with the gift from PrincessMary, were distributed among the men as they ate their hot Christmas pudding.
Charles studied the card; on the front was a split picture with King George onthe right and Queen Mary on the left. On the reverse of the card was afacsimile of a handwritten greeting, signed off by the two monarchs: Withour best wishes for Christmas 1914. May God protect you and bring youhome safe.
Edward held his card up to his face. ‘Terribly sorry, your Majesties, butI didn’t send you a card. I’ll make sure I do next year, if the Hunhaven’t bumped me off before then, that is.’
Charles smiled and looked at the gift from Princess Mary. It was afive-inch-long brass box, embossed with an image of the princess surrounded bya laurel wreath. He opened the lid and removed the contents: a pipe, anounce of tobacco, a packet of twenty cigarettes in a yellow monogrammed wrapperand a tinder lighter. ‘Kind of her,’ he muttered.
Leonard pocketed his gifts and cards. ‘Come on, let’s head to our roomand have a sing song.’
Back in the bedroom, the men slumped down onto their beds. Outside, thelight was fading. From the brazier came a ghostly yellow glow. Leonard, with his mouth organ poised, sat up and began to softly play O ComeAll Ye Faithful. Charles, along with the other men, quietly joinedin, as memories of Christmases past seeped into his mind. He knew thatthere was a very good chance that this could be the last Christmas he eversaw. With that solemn thought in mind, he pulled out the standard armywill, which he had been putting off completing in the naïve view that he wouldbe able to survive the war. But so few of the original British army hadsurvived the first four months of war. It was time to be realistic now.
To the sombre, dulcet tones of his comrades’ singing, Charles completed hislast will and testament.
‘Blimey, this is all getting a bit maudlin,’ Frank joked. ‘How aboutsomething rousing, like Sussex by the Sea?’
‘Good idea,’ Charlie said.
Leonard began to play the opening bars of Sussex by the Sea and Charlesquickly realised that he preferred festive melancholia to fabricated optimismand cheer. Still, he sang the full five verses along with the other men.
By silent shared agreement, the singing ended and the men lay in the bedsimmersed in their own thoughts.
ChapterFourteen
25thDecember 1914, Beachy Head, Eastbourne, England
NellieFarrier stood at the very edge of Beachy Head, the tips of her muddy blackshoes touching the final blades of grass before the five-hundred-foot drop tothe shingle and rocks below. Here she was as close to Charlie as shecould possibly get. She stared out across the English Channel. Today, the skies were clear of all but the odd white wisp, and on the horizon shecould see the faint coastline of France. Her eyes carefully traced theundulations in the distant hills, following as they rose and fell just like thecoastline on which she was standing. Soon after finishing her Christmasdinner, which she had helped to prepare with Dorothy and Gwen, Nellie hadopened her Christmas present from Charlie—a large brass shell, which he hadfashioned into a vase. On the bottom, he had etched To my darlingNellie, Christmas 1914.
Nellie turned her head, angling her ears towards the sea. She heardnothing but a squawking from some distant seagulls. Not a single gun wasfiring. She smiled, knowing
