After the dishes had been washed and put away, Connie settled over her books at the cleared table and Angela, Stan and Daniel sat before the fire with a cup of tea and talked late into the night sharing their experiences. Angela retrieved a newspaper article from upstairs which recounted the terrible first day of the Battle of the Somme and the twenty thousand lives that had been lost on that day alone. Connie (who had lifted her head from her homework and was now listening in) and Daniel were almost stunned into silence. Daniel said he couldn’t believe that something so terrible could have been allowed to happen.
Angela said, ‘You must have heard about the Battle of the Somme before now?’
Daniel nodded. ‘I know it was a really big battle. A lot of boys at school lost fathers, brothers, uncles. There were so many sent for throughout that summer they sort of had to tell us something.’
Angela nodded. ‘The Battle of the Somme didn’t centre on one day, though the greatest loss of life was on the first day. It actually lingered on for almost five bloody months. The world knew more about these series of battles than any other because the Allies were so sure of victory they allowed the film crews and war correspondents with their cameras right into the battlefields for the first time.’
So Daniel read the account of the Battle of the Somme. The newspaper account explained that this was the first taste of battle for Britain’s new volunteer armies, who had been persuaded to join up by patriotic posters showing Lord Kitchener himself summoning the men to arms.
Many ‘pals battalions’ went over the top that day; these battalions had been formed by men from the same town or village who had volunteered to serve together. The attack had been delayed by days due to torrential rain and so the battle started with a week-long artillery bombardment of the German lines on 1st July, with a total of more than 1.7 million shells being fired. It was anticipated that such a pounding would destroy the Germans in their trenches and rip through the barbed wire that had been placed in front.
‘Now I understand the need for all those shells you were making,’ Daniel said to Angela. ‘One point seven million sounds like one hell of a lot of shells.’
‘Yes,’ Angela agreed. ‘It is, of course, and that was only one battle. If ever I had any doubt that the work I was doing was vital and might make the difference to us winning the war or not, that told me more than anything.’
‘And even that newspaper account doesn’t tell the total appalling horror of that day,’ Stan cried. ‘And I am not surprised, for there are no words. I survived – God knows how when so many others didn’t. Some men, who didn’t even make it out the trench, were killed almost as soon as their heads were above the parapet. They would fall back with a cry and slide down the chalk wall to lie blood-stained and dying on the duckboards. Others were impaled on the wire and riddled with bullets, often with their innards hanging out. Countless dead and injured men filled the field as far as I could see, some with missing limbs, some half a head, some in pieces. Not all were dead, they screamed or sobbed in anguish and cried out for their mothers or sweethearts.’
Stan wiped tears from his eyes as he said, ‘It was heart-breaking to cross that field and see the aftermath of man’s inhumanity to man. In the initial surge it was every man for himself and you could stop to help none of them. No one could try to free those trapped on the wire, or put the men who were dying a slow and lingering death out of their misery, or tend those who had a chance of making it. If you did any of these things, or stopped advancing for any reason, you risked being shot.’
Daniel gasped. ‘What an awful situation to be in. It’s inhuman.’
‘War is inhuman, Daniel,’ Stan said. ‘Never forget that.’
Angela suddenly glanced at the clock and exclaimed, ‘Have you seen the time? We all have to get up in the morning and, Connie, you should have been in bed at least an hour ago.’
Connie could have claimed she hadn’t finished her homework but she thought she’d get into more trouble if she tried that. She’d just have to explain to the teacher they’d had unexpected visitors and hope she didn’t get too cross. Though even if she was, Connie decided, listening to her mother talking of times past and events in the war in a time she couldn’t really remember were worth more than a teacher’s bad humour. She bade goodnight to Stan and Daniel, kissed her mother and made her way to bed with no protest.
Stan and Daniel were getting into their outdoor coats when Stan said to Angela, ‘Sorry if we overstayed our welcome.’
‘You didn’t,’ Angela said. ‘Don’t be silly. It was good to remember and hear things from another’s point of view. Michael seldom talks of his experiences either, and Maggie says he feels almost guilty that he was the only one to survive out of a group of mates, Barry included, that he had known all his life.’
‘I can well understand that.’
‘And I think it did Connie good to know how things were then. She used to plague me with questions when she was younger and I never could bear to relive times dead and gone and in the past. But the past shapes our future, I know that now, and it’s also comforting to talk about what Connie would probably call “the olden days”.’
Daniel laughed. ‘A few years ago I would have called them the olden days as well, but whatever they’re called it’s good to know your history, where you come from.’
Angela’s heart was pierced by pain and she gave a small gasp as she remembered the tiny mite she’d left on the workhouse steps, who would never know where she came from. Even her name would be one someone in there had given her and Angela knew there was not a thing she could do to help her.
‘Angela, are you all right?’ Stan cried, for he had heard the gasp and seen the blood drain from her face.
‘It’s nothing,’ Angela said. In an attempt to change the subject, she asked, ‘Now would about ten o’clock suit for Connie and I to come round and clean the flat on Saturday morning?’
Stan wouldn’t be deflected so easily. ‘Ten’s fine,’ he said, ‘but are you absolutely sure you are all right?’
‘Yes,’ Angela said slightly impatiently. ‘Just a bit of sadness at stirring up memories, that’s all.’
Stan might have probed further but Angela didn’t give him the opportunity. She opened the door as a broad hint for them to leave and said, ‘Now stop fussing, Stan, and be on your way and I’ll see you on Saturday.’
Stan and Daniel had no option but to go, though Stan cast a worried look in Angela’s direction as he passed. Angela shut the door behind both men with an imperceptible sigh, leaning against it and letting the tears trickle silently down her cheeks for the child she had abandoned.