On a farm southwest of Messines, a few days after the trench cave-in, Frankie and Taz sat together on the remains of a low stone wall, scooping the last of steaming-hot soup from their army pannikins. Ever since the cave-in, the two young Australian soldiers had been inseparable. They’d shared a lot that horrific day. The terror of being shelled. The desperation of digging the other men out. And the secret that both had carried ever since they’d enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force – that they were only sixteen, two years younger than the minimum legal age for enlistment.

‘What do you reckon the higher-ups would do if they found out we were under-age?’ Frankie asked, licking the back of his spoon.

‘We’d probably be withdrawn from the front and sent home.’

‘Do you want to be withdrawn? I hate it in the trenches. It’s like being in your grave and just waiting to die. But I’d die of shame if they made us go and leave the other blokes to do all the fighting.’

Taz nodded. ‘We can’t let anyone know.’

‘It’s our secret.’ Frankie spat on his hand then held it out. ‘Shake on it, Taz.’

Taz spat on his hand. ‘Our secret,’ he agreed, firmly shaking hands with his new chum.

Both grew thoughtful and fell into a heavy silence.

‘Why’d you join up, anyway?’ Taz asked after a while.

Frankie shrugged. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time. I was bored and broke. And I thought I might come back a hero.’

‘Where’s home?’

‘A farm just outside Gympie, in Queensland. Do you know Gympie?’

Taz shook his head. ‘Never been to Queensland. I was born and raised at Beaconsfield, in Tassie.’ A puzzled look came over his face. ‘The 52nd is a West Australian and Tasmanian battalion. If you’re from Queensland . . .?’

‘I was in WA, at Kalgoorlie, when I enlisted. Christmas before last I ran away from home and went west.’

‘Why’d you run away? Not happy at home?’

Frankie shrugged. ‘I thought I’d make my fortune digging for gold. I’d heard about a place called the Golden Mile, in Kalgoorlie.’

‘But you didn’t make your fortune?’

‘Hardly, mate! It’s only mining companies that make money out of digging gold these days. They make it on the backs of silly coots like me. But I had to go there to find that out. What about you? Why’d you join up?’

Taz didn’t answer right away. He kicked the dirt. ‘Two of my elder brothers were killed fighting,’ he eventually said. ‘One on Gallipoli. The other in Flanders.’

‘Oh.’ Frankie didn’t know what to say to that, so volunteered, ‘I don’t have any brothers. Just a pile of sisters.’

Taz looked at his new friend. ‘I don’t have any brothers either now. After they were killed I wanted to do my bit . . . for them.’ He paused, pensive for a moment. ‘You can understand that, can’t you, Frankie?’

‘Course I can, mate,’ Frankie earnestly replied, patting him on the back. ‘It’s only natural.’

Fighting back tears, Taz dropped his eyes to the ground. ‘My mother couldn’t understand. She said she’d lost two sons and didn’t want to lose the third. But I worked on Dad. He understood. I told him I’d never be able to live with the guilt if I had to go through life knowing I could have served but didn’t. He convinced Mum to sign the papers. But I know she didn’t want to. She hated Dad for making her do it.’ He fell silent for a moment, then added, ‘Poor old Mum.’

‘Anyway,’ said Frankie, trying to cheer Taz up, ‘you’ll soon have a chance to get a few Jerries for your brothers. Won’t be long before we’ve got some of the Kaiser’s boys in our sights. Then we’ll play merry hell with the buggers!’

Taz nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, merry hell,’ he agreed without enthusiasm.