He sat alone in the dim, musty hanger.

An oily, metallic taste hovered in the air as he held the cheap, cracked pipe up, level to his neck, and gently sprinkled the tobacco into it, slowly packing it with his thumb. He stared, like an artist at it, his thoughts however were elsewhere. He took his box of matches out his pocket and as he was about to strike the match, the heavy iron door and a ray of pale yellow light broke through into the gloom. Heavy leather boot hit the cold, concrete floor and moved towards him. He put the match to the pipe, put it into the corner of his mouth, inhaled deeply and turned his head to see who intruded his peace. He saw it was the Captain, a large, red faced man, whose breast pocket was covered in various colours of regalia, showing his long career in the military. It was known throughout the regiment that the Captain had single handed commanded a group of ten men to take a Boer bridge, with no casualties, against huge opposition in the Boer War. For that he had gained huge respect and trust from all of the men, and none spoke ill of him. He was treated by the men in the same way as an old uncle and did not act aloof over them, a trait which was rare among commanders. The young pilot begun to get out of his seat but was motioned to stay seated by the Captain, Sir? Edwards questioned, You are needed Edwards, on the front, as soon as possible I am afraid, He answered, solemnly. Not a man to mince words he turned around and walked back to the heavy door, once he reached it he shouted back, Come see me tomorrow morning, we will have much to discuss, the door closed and Edwards was plunged back into the gloom, which now felt darker than before. Shit, Edwards muttered under his breath after the embers of the tobacco went out, he arose from the seat and emptied out the ashes onto the floor, before replacing the pipe back into his pocket. He walked around fifteen feet to the flank of his plane, one of the new Sopswirth Camels, a marvel of warfare engineering. A pilot with experience and skill could fly one with unmatched agility and out fly any German aircraft. The problem was Edwards lacked both experience and skill. He sighed and ran his finger along the seam of the metal shell. He took one last look around the hanger and slowly made his way back to the barracks. The morning awoke slowly and the winter rays of cold sun broke through the dirty glass of the window overlooking Edwardss bed, he was awoken by the general noise of the airfield. He had been allowed to sleep late; all the other men had long been gone. He had achieved hardly any sleep, and what little he had gained had been wracked by terrible dreams of gunshot, shrapnel and death. He glanced at the calendar 18th July it read back, it filled Edwards with a sense of foreboding as he realised the reality of his circumstance dawned upon him. He would have to kill. Or be killed. He couldnt imagine what was worse. He had once gone hunting with his father when he was younger and was forced to break a rabbit neck, after his fathers buckshot hadnt killed it. He remembered clearly the feeling of sickness as he held the pitiful creatures in his hands and his father taught him the best way to twist its neck to kill it quickest. The most humane way, he was told yet he felt back then that he would have preferred to have allowed it a long death rather than have any involvement. Now he would have to do the same, but to his fellow man. Edwards couldnt get his head round the idea. He pulled the William Croxon

tattered leather bomber jacket from the hook and picked up his cap and goggles from the table by his bed. He left the barracks into the biting winter air and rubbed his chin to stave off the cold. Turning right onto the path to the Captains office he felt the muddy path under his feet had frozen over leaving an uneven surface to walk on, like a miniscule mountain range. Wishing the frozen ground would reach up and swallow him into the darkness; Edwards arrived at the avocado green door and rapped upon it three times. Come in, the voice commanded from within. He opened the door and stepped out of the cold air and into the warmth and security of the small office. The Captain smiled half heartily and motioned for him to the worn chair in front of his desk. A small cloud of grey smoke hung over the captain head from his cheap cigarettes and the ash tray on the desk was near overflowing. His face did not display the same warm hearted, jovial expression it usually carried when Edwards saw him. I assume you have heard of the situation on the front, yes? the Captain questioned, Stories from the men and the wireless, sir, Edwards replied, I shant soften the reports for our benefits Edwards, he paused its a bloody massacre, thousands of men for a few foot, it is a complete stalemate right now, and our boys are being taken apart by the heavy German artillery. This is why you are needed, air support is minimal and honestly you are the last hope, He looked up from the notebook he was frantically jotting down notes. He motioned to the map behind him, it was faded and was criss- crossed with many threads and pins with small notes Edwards couldnt make out. In the bottom right of the map in black print was Somme. The Captain motioned to large blocks of colour, the south dominated by lines and blacks of green and the north dominated by red, You will move in from the north west, behind the German lines and remove as many artillery pieces as possible, and if the opportunity presents itself these mortar position here, He pointed to a point further west of the artillery positions. Edwards felt as if his grip on reality was being lost, and a pit opened in his stomach as he saw what he would have to do, Question is Edwards do you feel as though you are ready for this? Yes... sir Edwards replied and with that he realised his fate was sealed. Word count = 1100

William Croxon