There was me, the padre and a packet of Black Cats. And bugger all else except the pitch dark night. Me, the padre and a packet of Black Cats we didn’t dare light any of, because the Germans might have spotted the glow and that would have been that.
I wasn’t even supposed to be there, but I guess neither of us were. He’d been out to take church parade for the lads and wanted to return to base so he could do the same for another poor group of sods the next day. I’d given him a lift from the casualty clearing station, and we were both heading back, when a shell took a fancy to the piece of ground just to the left of us, the little strip we’d played cricket on just two weeks previously, before the Germans moved further forward. Up went me, the padre, the car and all, including Stevens, the poor injured lad we were taking back with us. The lad who was at present scattered all over the field, with his legs at third slip and his head lolling around square leg, if you follow me.
More little tidbits at the Rainbow Snippets group.