THE FIRST EXPLOSION ripped the prisoners of war from their sleep and yanked the young soldier to his feet. Panicked German soldiers ran through the trenches, grabbing any helmets and weapons they could find and screaming orders in their chaotic rush toward the explosion. When the trench was clear, the young soldier scrambled onto a ladder and carefully raised his helmeted head above the parapet. He looked north to Messines, the direction of the earth-shaking blast. Eighteen more explosions followed, each as powerful and devastating as the first. The distant ridge was a hellscape. Volcanic eruptions punched through the earth like fiery fingers, reaching up to claim the thousands of German troops positioned along the seven-mile stretch of trenches.
Those not pulverized in the explosions or swallowed by the opening earth stumbled onto the battlefield in disoriented shock and surrendered to the approaching Allied forces. The young soldier didn’t know how, but after years of bloody stalemate, the Allies had succeeded in breaking the German line. He glanced down the trenches. The German troops were in disarray. Now was his chance to escape. Smoke, dirt, and debris thickened the night sky above, but the young soldier knew the Allied trenches waited just beyond in the darkness.
Fear and hope pounded through his heart in frantic beats as he scaled the last rungs of the ladder. Since his capture, home and his family had never seemed closer. He paused before climbing over the parapet and looked back to the dugout. The prisoners whom he’d worked alongside for the last month remained huddled together in the earthen shelter. Their eyes wide with confusion and terror, they watched the young soldier. With frantic gestures, he motioned for them to join him.
“Come on!” he screamed. “We must go! Now!”
When they didn’t move, he jumped into the trench and pushed them toward the ladder.
“Go! Now! Hurry!”
The British, Australians, and Canadians obeyed, and after a moment’s hesitation, an older Belgian followed them over the parapet and onto no-man’s-land. Only the French boy remained. With his eyes squeezed shut and his ears covered, he cradled his head and rocked back and forth.
No more explosions ripped through Messines or quaked the earth, but the gunfire from the Allied lines continued, and the young soldier knew the Germans would soon regroup. Their chance of escaping lessened with every second they remained in the trench.
“Come on!” he yelled.
The boy’s eyes sprang open, and the young soldier pointed to the ladder, but the boy shook his head. The Allied gunfire grew closer, and the young soldier flinched at the sound of return fire from the Central Powers, just south of their position.
He grabbed the boy’s arm. “We have to go now!”
The boy yanked free of the soldier’s grip and rocked faster. “Non, non, non,” he muttered with every sway forward. He squeezed his eyes closed again, sending fresh tears spilling down his round cheeks.
The young soldier knelt before the boy. “Please,” he begged. “I have to get home to my family.”
The boy stopped rocking and looked up at him. “Famille?”
The young soldier nodded. “Famille.” He pictured each of their faces.
Dad. Mum. Letitia. Charlotte. Tommy.
Taking the frightened boy’s hand, the young soldier helped him to his feet. Farther down the German line, a howitzer cannon fired, and the French boy froze. His hands flew to his bare head as his wide eyes frantically searched the trench for a helmet.
The young soldier rubbed a shaky hand over the boy’s messy hair. “Everything’s going to be all right,” he said, taking off his helmet and securing it on the boy’s head. “I promise.”
Then the two climbed the ladder.