Angels For Breakfast
Tendrils of yellow greyish smoke twined around their clay-caked puttees. Shell holes and bootmarks were filled with the green vestiges from the last gas attack, so that the bottom floor of the muddy trench appeared smooth and even.
Sergeant Sandy MacIver tensed. He watched as Major Graham climbed another step up the observation ladder and peered through the glass at the German trenches. The officer looked as if he was ready for the parade ground. His cavalry twills had creases like bayonet edges. His boots were gleaming mirrors by the spit and polish from his batman. The Major turned, looked at Sandy then blew three sharp blasts on his silver whistle.
‘That’s it lads, up and over,’ Sandy cried at the top of his voice.
Yelling to inspire their comrades and their own self courage the khaki clad ranks clambered onto the debris littered battlefield. A warlike skirl of the pipes introduced the Devils in Skirts to the enemy.
From ahead a steady, deep chatter of heavy machine gun fire began to sweep through the advance. Major Graham staggered once then fell face down into the glutinous mud.
At last Sandy and a small remaining straggle of survivors pushed through the last tangles of barbed wire. Now a clatter of rifle and pistol fire added to the din of war. Shots scythed through them but Sandy stood up and like a bowler lobbed a hand grenade into the first trench then faltered as a fierce pain from the bullet that thudded into his thigh was masked as two more hit his shoulder and ribcage. Waves of pain and nausea overwhelmed him as he half collapsed and called to his few remaining soldiers,
‘Back lads, we’ve done enough, its no use.’
Sandy then stumbled back through the wire and fell into blessed oblivion as he slithered down the side of a deep slimy crater.

‘Sergeant MacIver, I repeat, did you or did you not order your men to retreat in the face of the enemy?’
Sandy looked slowly round the impromptu courtroom. Four officers, acting as judge and jury, sat behind the shining, waxed table. His defending officer, whom he had met for the first time last night, looked ill at ease. This was his first case and he was anxious not to put a step wrong.
The officer for the prosecution barked out the question again. Sandy looked at him wearily and asked,
‘Tell me please Sir, have you ever stood in front of the German trenches while the man next to you, who is tangled in the barbs, screams as yet another bullet bites into him while with both bloody hands he tries to squeeze his entrails back into the gash in his belly?’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘Tell me please sir, have you ever wakened to the plop plop of gas shells landing in your trench and watched through misted lenses as the soldier in front of you, who was twenty seconds slow getting his mask on, gulps the filthy green poison then, crying like a maniac, tears his eyes out before falling down dead though still vomiting?’
‘For the last time will you please just answer the question Sergeant!’
‘Right. Yes I did order the last two survivors of that attack to try to get back. I was the only one who made it!’ After a brief discussion round the table, which was stacked with booklets of army regulations, the senior officer placed a square of black linen on his head and gravely pronounced,
‘Sergeant Alexander Stuart MacIver, this military tribunal finds you guilty of desertion, the penalty for which is death. Accordingly at dawn in three days time you will be taken before a firing squad. May God forgive you.’

With a clang the cell door opened. Dawn was just a reddish sheen through the barred window. Corporal Jamie Lawson came in carrying a linen draped tray. Delicious smells of fried bacon, toast and real coffee pervaded the thin air. Sandy looked up at his ashen faced friend.
‘ Thanks Jamie,
I’m sorry for asking for you but the last thing I wanted was a stranger.’
‘Bloody hell Sandy, I’m sorry man and I’ve to lead the firing squad!’
‘I know mate, I asked if you could, much better that way.’ He lifted the napkin.
‘My God Jamie, where the hell did you find black pudding in France?
He laughed and continued,
‘I always said if you were lost in the Sahara you’d find Loch Ness. Eh? ‘
Jamie left, trying to hide his tears. Sandy sat back, the tray untouched. A strange, gentle feeling pervaded him as he thought of his friends then back to his home and family. A deeply content emotion swept through him and for the first time in his life he felt wholly at peace. As he did, it seemed that the dawn had crept into his cell and filled it with a pure, warm light. He lay back in wonder.

The padre was bemused. Many, too many times, this unpleasant duty had fallen on his thin shoulders. He was used to all sorts of emotion, some extreme such as anger, bitterness or weeping self pity, some were just indifferent or resigned to their fate. But this was unique in his experience. The young sergeant just sat grinning up at the window. His whole being emanated such an intense peace and contentment which you could not but envy, and wish in some way to share. He had sat pleasantly through the prayers on his behalf and the final blessing. The padre said,
‘Now my son, is there anything more I can do for you, perhaps someone you would like me to contact?’
‘No thank you padre, thanks for coming.’
Side by side the padre and Sandy walked down the concrete steps into the courtyard. Five men from Sandy’s old platoon, led by Corporal Jamie, were standing in line, heads down, rifles at rest. Two smartly dressed officers stepped into the yard and issued orders. Jamie tied Sandy’s hands gently behind the pole, pinned a small white target to his breast then raised the blindfold.
‘No Jamie, let it be, I’m ready. Tell the lads I’m truly glad its them and ask them to aim true.’

Madame’s corner café was full to bursting. The roaring bustling throng of soldiers back from the front were determined to milk every morsel of enjoyment from their brief respite from hell. In the far corner a small silent group of men formed an oasis of misery. They sat deep in thought and self reflection. One turned to his Corporal and said,
‘Jamie, what did you say to him that made him smile at the end?’
‘ I really don’t understand it Willy, he just asked me where we were, when I said Mons, he laughed and said' - 'yes, I had breakfast with angels.’

Ian 1,136 words