Pg
1
‘They’ve gone now, and I’m alone at last. I
have the whole night ahead of me, and I won’t waste a single moment of it. I
shan’t sleep it away either. I mustn’t, because every moment of it will be far
too precious.
I want to try to remember everything, just
as it was, just as it happened. I’ve had nearly eighteen years of yesterdays
and tomorrows, and tonight I must remember as many of them as I can. I want
tonight to be long, as long as my life, not filled with fleeting dreams that
rush me on towards dawn.Tonight, more than any other night of my life, I want to feel alive.’
Pg47
‘Tonight I want very much to believe
there’s a heaven, that, as Father said, there is a new life after death, that
death is not a full stop, and that we will all see one another again.’
Pg77
‘There’s a sliver of a moon out there, a
new moon. I wonder if they’re looking at it back home. Bertha used to howl at
the moon, I remember. If I had a coin in my pocket, I’d turn it over and make a
wish. When I was young I really believed in them.
But I mustn’t think like that. It’s no good
wishing for the impossible. Don’t wish, Tommo. Remember. Remembrances are
real.’
Pg119
‘I dropped off to sleep. I’ve lost precious
minutes- I don’t know how many, but they are minutes I can never have back. I
should be able by now to fight off sleep. I’ve done it often enough on look-out
in the trenches, but then I had cold or fear or both as my wakeful companions.
I long for that moment of surrender to sleep, just to drift away into the
warmth of nothingness. Resist it, Tommo, resist it. After this night is over,
then you can drift away, then you can sleep for ever, for nothing will ever
matter again.’
‘Morning here has always been to wake with
the same dread in the pit of my stomach, knowing that I will have to look death
in the face again, that up to now it may have been someone else’s death, but
that today it could be mine, that this may be my last sunrise, my last day on
earth.’
Pg166
‘When their attack comes, in the pearly
light of dawn, it falters before it even gets near our wire. Our machine
gunners see to that, knocking them down like thousands of grey skittles, never
to rise again. My hands are shaking so much I can hardly reload my rifle. When
they recoil and turn and run we wait for the whistle and then go out over the
top. I go because the others go, moving forward as if in a trance, as if
outside myself altogether. I find myself suddenly on my knees and I don’t know
why. There is blood pouring down my face, and my head is wracked with a sudden
burning pain so terrible that I feel it must burst. I feel myself falling out
of my dream down into a world of swirling darkness. I am being beckoned into a
world I have never been to before where it is warm and comforting and
all-enveloping. I know I a dying my own death, and I welcome it.’
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