Bloodline Read Online Free PDF Page B

desk.
    “Not so far, sir,” I said.
    Harker glanced around the small dugout. “This is a tiny office they’ve holed you up in,” he observed. He fixed his intense dark gaze on me. “You look like a dog in need of a run. I shall take you on a raid this evening. I promised you’d see some action.”
    “Me, sir?” I answered, my heart beginning to race. Just days ago I had yearned for the opportunity to join Captain Harker behind enemy lines. Now I feared not only theenemy but Harker himself. What barbarity might he be capable of on such a raid?
    He drew a map from his pocket and spread it on my desk, covering the notepads and pens that lay there already. It was a rough sketch of no-man’s-land and the nearby enemy trenches. “There’s an enemy gun dug in here.” Harker jabbed the map with a long finger. “A nest of snipers.” He flashed me a brief grin, then went on, deadly serious. “We are going to destroy it.”
    “Just us, sir?” I asked, hoping for the comfort of at least another soul during our journey.
    “Of course,” Harker answered easily. “A smaller attack assures us the element of surprise.”
    A rivulet of sweat crept down my back at the prospect.
    Harker’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Prepare yourself well, Lieutenant Shaw. Seeing your enemy face-to-face is quite something.”
    L
ATER
    News that the captain is taking another officer—and an inexperienced one at that—on one of his night raids has not gone without comment amongst the men. I myself am really none the wiser to Harker’s reasons.
    “You’re goin’ over the top at dusk?” Jenkins asked.
    I nodded.
    A louse leapt from the seam of my jacket. I caught the fleeing creature between a thumb and finger and stared for a while at the tiny squirming parasite that had caused me so much discomfort.
    Then I crushed it. The pop, as I extinguished its life, filled me with some small satisfaction.
    I examined the collapsed body stuck to my fingertip, stained red by the blood that it had sucked from me—blood that I had claimed back. “How many lice would it take to suck all the blood from a man, do you think?” I asked Jenkins. I showed him the dark red smear on my fingertip.
    Jenkins looked at the squashed louse, then at me, a look of concern clouding his face. “You seem tired, sir. Perhaps you’d better try and get an hour’s kip before your raid with Captain Harker. Don’t worry, I’ll wake you in good time.”
    But of course, I can’t sleep. How can I rest knowing what lies ahead of me?
    I have checked my equipment repeatedly. There is nothing left but to sit and wait.
    Though fear pulses through me like a fever, I am determined to see this through. I must be strong enough to face the enemy—as well as my commander.
    Dear Lily, I do this for you and for England. May God bless you and protect me so that I might return safely.
    There is Jenkins’s knock. I must go.
    17TH
A UGUST 1916
    It is one in the morning, but I cannot sleep; my wound pains me, and my legs and back both ache with a fury. I returned to the trench today after two days in the field hospital. At least I can now distract myself by writing in my journal. I shall record the events that led to my injury during the night raid.
    I watched the evening mist drifting through no-man’s-land as I waited for Captain Harker at the agreed location. Around me the men squatted in the trench, brewing tea and burning lice from their uniforms in their customary way. The wind carried mustard gas and my eyes stung and watered. I wrapped a scarf around my mouth and nose in a futile effort to keep the gas from my lungs.
    The rattle of enemy guns sounded in the distance. Then suddenly, there was the familiar burst of noise as a screaming tornado of lead flew overhead, missing the trench by a great margin.
    “Bloody shells,” swore Sergeant O’Reilly.
    I stared down. The hated rats scuttled over my boots.
    “No damned respect,” Corporal Jenkins spat. He put down his