Tom walks slowly around the main room until he sees a small room off to the side. He walks inside and stops to look around the room; it is some sort of games room with a piano in the corner. He lifts up the lid and looks down at the white and black keys for a while before he taps a key. He listens to the tone as it dies away. He taps another key, then another and before long a tune appears. Inspired by his memory he sits down and plays, feeling the keys and getting into the swing of it. It isn’t long before another patient comes in after hearing music, then another. Very soon, most of the patients now join the throng that is standing behind Tom. One man starts to sing, and then the others join in. At last, here is the entertainment the men have been longing for.

Tom sits by the window looking out into the November garden. It has been a light drizzle of rain for a week now and the sky looks so grey and miserable. He looks out impassively, having no feelings at all was better than being miserable. How any one can stand being in those trenches for years was incomprehensible to Tom, he was in them for two months and that was unbearable. He feels a twinge of guilt for not being there for his comrades, and pain for those who died. Thousands of them, slaughtered. Suddenly someone runs in.

“Have you heard?” he shouts with joy to no one in particular, while holding aloft a newspaper.

“No, do tell us dear boy” comes a sarcastic reply.

“The Canadians have captured Passchendaele”

Now people are interested and start to sit up. The young man unfolds the newspaper and sits down while everyone else crowds round to read the article.

“We’ve won the war”

“That’s it lads, we’ve won. The Germans have to give up now”

“Don’t be so sure” Tom says to himself “they said before it would be over by Christmas”