As the Crow Flies

The three men stared out across the French countryside as the light turned first murky, then gray and finally black.

“Shouldn’t we be thinkin’ of moving soon, Captain?” asked Charlie, after they had sat in pitch darkness for over an hour.

“We’ll go when I’m good and ready,” said Trentham, “and not before.”

“Yes, sir,” said Charlie, and sat shivering as he continued to stare out into the darkness for another forty minutes.

“Right, follow me,” said Trentham without warning. He

rose and led them both down the stone steps, coming to a halt at the entrance to the vestry door. He pulled the door open slowly. The noise of the hinges sounded to Charlie like a magazine emptying on a machine-gun. The three of them stared into the night and Charlie wondered if there was yet another German out there with rifle cocked, waiting. The captain checked his compass.

“First we must try to reach the safety of those trees at the top of the ridge,” Trentham whispered. “Then I’ll work out a route for getting us back behind our own lines.”

By the time Charlie’s eyes had become accustomed to the darkness he began to study the moon and, more important, the movement of the clouds.

“It’s open ground to those trees,” the captain continued, “so we can’t risk a crossing until the moon disappears behind some cover. Then we’ll each make a dash for the ridge separately. So Prescott, when I give the order, you’ll go first.”

“Me?” said Tommy.

“Yes, you, Prescott. Then Corporal Trumper will follow the moment you’ve reached the trees.”

“And I suppose you’ll bring up the rear, if we’re lucky enough to survive?” said Tommy.

“Don’t be insubordinate with me,” said Trentham. “Or you’ll find this time that you will be court-martialed and end up in the jail you were originally intended for.”

“Not without a witness, I won’t,” said Tommy. “That much of King’s Regulations I do understand.”

“Shut up, Tommy,” said Charlie.

They all waited in silence behind the vestry door until a large shadow moved slowly across the path and finally enveloped the church all the way to the trees.

“Go!” said the captain, tapping Prescott on the shoulder. Tommy bolted off like a greyhound released from the slips, and the two other men watched as he scampered across the open ground, until some twenty seconds later he reached the safety of the trees.

The same hand tapped Charlie on the shoulder a moment later, and off he ran, faster than he had ever run before, despite having to carry a rifle in one hand and a pack on his back. The grin didn’t reappear on his face until he had reached Tommy’s side.

They both turned to stare in the direction of the captain.

“What the ’ell’s he waitin’ for?” said Charlie.

“To see if we get ourselves killed would be my guess,” said Tommy as the moon came back out.

They both waited but said nothing until the circular glow had disappeared behind another cloud, when finally the captain came scurrying towards them.

He stopped by their side, leaned against a tree and rested until he had got his breath back.

“Right,” he eventually whispered, “we’ll advance slowly down through the forest, stopping every few yards to listen for the enemy, while at the same time using the trees for cover. Remember, never move as much as a muscle if the moon is out, and never speak unless it’s to answer a question put by me.”

The three of them began to creep slowly down the hill, moving from tree to tree, but no more than a few yards at a time. Charlie had no idea he could be so alert to the slightest unfamiliar sound. It took the three of them over an hour to reach the bottom of the slope, where they came to a halt. All they could see in front of them was a vast mass of barren open ground.

“No man’s land,” whispered Trentham. “That means we’ll have to spend the rest of our time flat on our bellies.” He immediately sank down into the mud. “I’ll lead,” he said. “Trumper, you’ll follow, and Prescott will bring up the rear.”

“Well, at least that proves ’e knows where ’e’s goin’,” whispered Tommy. “Because ’e must ’ave worked out exactly where the bullets will be comin’ from, and who they’re likely to ’it first.”

Slowly, inch by inch, the three men advanced the half mile across no man’s land, towards the Allied front line, pressing their faces back down into the mud whenever the moon reappeared from behind its unreliable screen.

Although Charlie could always see Trentham in front of him, Tommy was so silent in his wake that from time to time he had to look back just to be certain his friend was still there. A grin of flashing white teeth was all he got for his trouble.

During the first hour the three of them covered a mere hundred yards. Charlie could have wished for a more cloudy night. Stray bullets flying across their heads from both trenches ensured that they kept themselves low to the ground. Charlie found he was continually spitting out mud and once even came face to face with a German who couldn’t blink.