Fall of Giants

He should send someone back to report. But before he could do so, the German artillery changed its aim. They had begun by shelling the British rear. Now they focused on no-man’s-land. Volcanoes of earth were erupting between the British and German lines. The bombardment was so intense that no one could have got back alive.

Luckily, the gunners were avoiding their own front line. Presumably they did not know which sectors had been taken by the British and which remained in German hands.

Billy’s group was stuck. They could not advance without ammunition, and they could not retreat because of the bombardment. But Billy seemed to be the only one worried by their position. The others started looking for souvenirs. They picked up pointed helmets, cap badges, and pocketknives. George Barrow examined all the dead Germans and took their watches and rings. Tommy took an officer’s nine-millimeter Luger and a box of ammunition.

They began to feel lethargic. It was not surprising: they had been up all night. Billy posted two lookouts and let the rest of them doze. He felt disappointed. On his first day of battle he had won a little victory, and he wanted to tell someone about it.

In the evening the barrage let up. Billy considered whether to retreat. There seemed no point in doing anything else, but he was afraid of being accused of desertion in the face of the enemy. There was no telling what superior officers might be capable of.

However, the decision was made for him by the Germans. Suet Hewitt, the lookout on the ridge, saw them advancing from the east. Billy saw a large force-fifty or a hundred men-running across the valley toward him. His men could not defend the ground they had taken without fresh ammunition.

On the other hand, if they retreated they might be blamed.

He summoned his handful of men. “Right, boys,” he said. “Fire at will, then retreat when you run out of ammo.” He emptied his rifle at the advancing troops, who were still half a mile out of range, then turned and ran. The others did the same.

They scrambled across the German trenches and back over no-man’s-land toward the setting sun, jumping over the dead and dodging the stretcher parties who were picking up the wounded. But no one shot at them.

When Billy reached the British side he jumped into a trench that was crowded with dead bodies, wounded men, and exhausted survivors like himself. He saw Major Fitzherbert lying on a stretcher, his face bloody but his eyes open, alive and breathing. There’s one I wouldn’t have minded losing, he thought. Many men were just sitting or lying in the mud, staring into space, dazed by shock and paralyzed by weariness. The officers were trying to organize the return of men and bodies to the rear sections. There was no sense of triumph, no one was moving forward, the officers were not even looking at the battlefield. The great attack had been a failure.

The remaining men of Billy’s section followed him into the trench.

“What a cock-up,” Billy said. “What a godalmighty cock-up.”

{IV}

A week later Owen Bevin was court-martialed for cowardice and desertion.

He was given the option of being defended, at the trial, by an officer appointed to act as the “prisoner’s friend,” but he declined. Because the offense carried the death penalty, a plea of Not Guilty was automatically entered. However, Bevin said nothing in his defense. The trial took less than an hour. Bevin was convicted.

He was sentenced to death.

The papers were passed to general headquarters for review. The commander in chief approved the death sentence. Two weeks later, in a muddy French cow pasture at dawn, Bevin stood blindfolded before a firing squad.

Some of the men must have aimed to miss, because after they fired Bevin was still alive, though bleeding. The officer in charge of the firing squad then approached, drew his pistol, and fired two shots point-blank into the boy’s forehead.

Then, at last, Owen Bevin died.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – Late July 1916

Ethel thought a lot about life and death after Billy went off to France. She knew she might never see him again. She was glad he had lost his virginity with Mildred. “I let your little brother have his wicked way with me,” Mildred had said lightheartedly after he left. “Sweet boy. Have you got any more like that down there in Wales?” But Ethel suspected Mildred’s feelings were not as superficial as she pretended, for in their nightly prayers Enid and Lillian now asked God to watch over Uncle Billy in France and bring him safely home again.

Lloyd developed a bad chest infection a few days later, and in an agony of desperation Ethel rocked him in her arms while he struggled to breathe. Fearing he might die, she bitterly regretted that her parents had never seen him. When he got better, she decided to take him to Aberowen.

She returned exactly two years after she had left. It was raining.