The Stretcher Bearer

William held on for his life, as the world around him erupted in flames. His grip tightened around a hefty sandbag vigorously, until his knuckles went white. He buried his head in his arms to shield his face. He tensed every muscle in his body in fear, and in the hope that it would protect him somehow. A wave of heat boiled over his skin, as he winced in pain. Hot, muddy sweat dripped down his tensed up face, and drenched the collar of his stale uniform. The stretcher bearer had never felt so alone and helpless. A cannon had just fired, and it felt like the whole world had shaken. He had to grip onto a sandbag that was wedged in the side of the trench, so that he wouldn’t be thrown onto the ground.

Murderous gunfires drummed uncontrollably, and cannons roared. William held his breath every time one was louder than another. He took a shaky breath, and lifted his head from his arms. It was as though chaos had broken free. Around him, thick, gloomy clouds swept across the sky and ate away the last of sunlight. It was as though a dark dome had formed over the top of him, and there was no escaping the nightmare that was inside.

Hundreds of men were lined up along the front line trench, crouched behind a pathetic wall of sandbags. It was the first day of the Battle of The Somme, and, already, things were not going as planned. William uncurled his legs, and steadied himself into position. His battalion was part of the British Territorial division, and had been called in for reinforcements. His legs shook with nerves, and he muttered profusely under his breath. The men around him carried a gun, whilst he had no weapon. I can’t even defend myself. He picked up his stretcher from the ground and held his corner, while 3 other men took the other corners, and they waited for the signal from the general to head up, and run forward into ‘No Man’s Land’. William cursed at himself. He had never been in a battle like this be- fore. Nothing could compare to the fear he felt, knowing he was running into something that he would never get out of.

Suddenly, a screeching whistle blast shot through the air, breaking the nervous tension. William scrambled up out of the trench and charged forward into ‘No Mans Land’. The men passed through their own barbed wire, and he caught his first glimpse of bodies of men who had not yet made their way through. Harsh booming sounds echoed their way though the air, like blasts of thunder, dominating any other sounds. Adrenaline pumped fiercely though every muscle in his body. Suddenly, an agonising wail called from nearby, like a vicious bear tearing apart it’s prey. Alarmed, the stretcher bearers scuttled towards the solder, and hauled him onto the stretcher. Fresh, warm blood oozed from the wound where his arm looked like it had been brutally torn off. That could’ve been me. The thought haunted him. He pushed it away. Hurriedly, yet cautiously they returned him to an aid post. They made the trip many times and with every soldier that they rescued, the dreaded anxiety that had taken over him at the start, began to ease, and was replaced with a slightly warm, hopeful feeling.

The realisation washed over him as the night crept on, and as more bodies piled up. He realised that each of these men, who lay on the ground, had their own story to tell. Each soldier, enemy or not, had a family of their own, and loved ones who cared for them.

Some were fathers. Some were sons. Some were brothers. In a flash, he was holding hands with his two beautiful little daughters, both grinning happily like they didn’t have a care in the world. His heart was flooded with a warm, tingly feeling, and in a world full of bitterness and grief, a wonky side smile formed on his face.

Realisation flickered back. A man lay awkwardly on the stretcher, with a leg that seemed to be distorted in all the wrong ways. A lump bubbled up in his dry throat and he forced it down with a hard gulp. He wanted to help this man so desperately to try stop his suffer- ing, and make sure he got back to his loved ones. But there was little he could do.

William dived onto the ground when the sound of a German aircraft bomber zoomed over head. He felt the explosion through every bone in his body. He plummeted onto the ground. The force snapped his face against the dry floor. Just behind him an enormous burst of flames devoured the nights sky, engulfing everything around it. Agonising screams filled the air as men were blown to pieces.

William bit down hard on his lip, and hot blood filled his mouth. He hadn’t realised until his beige uniform suddenly turn to red. His eyes stung like an open wound, and the roar- ing heat from the explosion sizzled against his skin.

Immediately, a rushed and careless force snatched under his arms and dragged him up onto his feet. His head swirled in circles and throbbed like a pounding hammer. He pre- pared for himself to collapse straight onto the ground, and for the pain in his limbs to start pumping. To his surprise, his feet stayed on the ground and he was able to balance him- self. The huge burst of flames that towered over them had disappeared, and left behind a thick, dangerous mushroom of smoke. It was filled with shrapnel that flew through the air like little knives. A thick shard shot past his leg, ripping his trousers and just missing his skin.

He lifted his eyes, and looked around at a horrific field of empty human shells, all sur- rounding a deep crater in the middle. The putrid stench of burning flesh and hot blood lurched over the bodies, and William failed to battle it out of his lungs. Commotion en- gulfed him. Clusters of soldiers zig zagged through the remains carrying stretchers. The three men who he had carried his stretcher with were suspended on the ground beside him, their bodies deflated. William heard a faint whimper, like a distressed dog and he turned to see the wounded man who had been on the stretcher, still clutching his man- gled leg.

In a field of such bitter lifelessness, the poor man was one of the only ones who was still alive. Blood drained rapidly from his leg, and his desperate weeps began to grow softer. There were no more stretchers, and no body to help carry the wounded man. His eyes swept back in the direction of the trench, and the thought of running back to safety pushed it’s way into his mind. Any moment another explosion could go off, and he didn’t dare to risk it.

A precious memory struck in his mind, and he saw his little girls and their bright, smiling faces. He ached to see them, at least just one last time. He wanted to be the father that they needed, so he could laugh with them, and watch them grow up. Then his mind flick- ered back to the man. Maybe he could have his own little daughters at home, desperate to see him and waiting for him to return.

Almost immediately, William heaved the man up and over his shoulder and wrapped his arms around his neck. He dragged his wobbly legs across the ground and towards the front line. His face dripped with fresh blood from flying shrapnel, his eyes were red raw from the heat, and stinging blisters rubbed against his shoes. William continued. They struggled across the land, leaving a trail of blood as they went.

He thumped down into the trench, collapsed on the floor and whooshed out a heavy breath in relief. His heart was beating impulsively. They had made it. For now. He lowered his patient carefully, and gently turned over the cold figure.

The man’s lifeless body lay against the hard floor in silence.

William crumpled up and fell to the ground in defeat. He let out a muffled cry, and a hot wave of nausea washed over him. The poor man lay there so innocent and sad, and curled up in his blood stained uniform. Around him was an intense world of suffering and destruction. William knew that a man's life was more than just a soldier, and he vowed to try and save as many soldiers as he could.