A matter of Life and Death

When I was young, I used to visit a friend of my grandfather who was wheelchair bound. What we talked about has stuck in my memory since and a while ago I made it into a short story…..Here it is!!

A Matter of Life and Death.

“You’ll be fine” said my sergeant as we sat waiting in the trench for yet another assault on the German trenches facing us. I had already seen two of my friends fall dead, close by me, as we charged towards

the German guns. Zig-zagging was fine against the rifles as at least we had a chance that they would miss.  but the machine guns, which were carefully positioned to take as many lives as possible, were deadly. They were positioned at either end of our vision so that they were cross firing as we ran, a position which also gave them less gaps to miss through.

Ginger handed me a roll up and we ducked low as we lit up. Those cigarettes tasted so good after the last assault and sort us gave us a euphoric feeling in that we were still alive to smoke them.

My last letter from Annie spoke of things being difficult at home and I amused myself thinking how she could not imagine what things were like here. What with rationing at home and shortage of some foods anyway, I suppose it must have been hard for them but living here with death snapping at your heels was a sight worse. Five lads from our village had already copped bullets and died and six more had been injured badly enough to be sent home, which only left three more including me from that lovely little Devon village. Three lads who had so far been lucky, or Blessed, depending what you believe.

I had found Jesus when I was eight years old and had known his protection in many situations over the years but this….how would he stop my death in this Godforsaken battlefield. I had resigned myself to being at least badly injured or at worst dying in agony in No- mans-land. I was actually praying to the Lord that if I were to die He would make it happen in an instant, so that I would not suffer and end my life in pain.

All that seems a long time ago now but the horror of it all remains with me to this day. Had my sergeant, who was leading the attack, not fallen dead on to my head as I climbed the side ladder of the trench, I might well have died that day. The bullets from the German machine guns laced the air with a whistling sound which still haunts me today and the thuds and screams that accompanied ‘hits’ were an abomination. I was found unconscious by another regiment, having taken the force of my falling sergeant, full on the top of my head, which collapsed me in an unconscious heap. My back was broken at the third/fourth vertebrates and I was paralysed from the neck down, so they stretchered me off the battlefield and I was taken home.

Many years have passed and I am still wheelchair bound but I have use of my arms and can mobilise myself, dress myself and lift myself in and out of bed. My movements are of course limited and there are many things I can’t do but I praise the Lord every day for keeping me alive.

Michael J Hill (c) March 2022