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.Nulli Secundus -
'Second to None'
by Terence Cardwell
Chapter
Thirty Five - O.H.M.S
Elizabeth sat on the settee in the lounge of her
parent’s home, feeling queasy from her pregnancy.
The morning sickness had been difficult at first,
sometimes confining her to bed for the whole morning,
but now it was easing off as her body grew to accept the
changes within her. Her stomach had begun to increase in
size.
Her thoughts were once again with Jack. He had been away
now for two weeks, and every day she listened for news
about the war in Belgium. She had seen a few very poor
newsreels about soldiers marching to France, and looked
in vain for sign of Jack. Her father brought home the
occasional newspaper with photos of soldiers marching
and politicians making the usual speeches, but she could
find little information about the war itself.
Each day she and Jack were apart was a torment. She
worried about him, wondering what was happening to him
and what he was doing. She became more and more insecure
as she slipped back into her old fears.
Now she caressed her stomach with both hands and smiled
as she felt the new life stir within her. Her mother sat
by the window crocheting, squinting in the light to see
the fine stitches. Bill was sitting in his old,
threadbare lounge chair reading the paper, drawing on
his dark wooden pipe as he searched for information
about the war.
Ethel, Elizabeth’s thirteen-year old-sister, sat quietly
reading one of her favourite books, Little Women.
The knocker on the front door sounded, a sharp rap rap,
startling them all. The postman had delivered the mail
through the mail slot in the front door. Bill put the
paper aside and went to up the two letters that lay on
the hall carpet. One in a white envelope was handwritten
and addressed to Elizabeth from her girlfriend Emily.
The other was a longer brown envelope with a crest
impressed on it with the title ‘On His Majesty’s
Service, War Department’ at the top left-hand corner.
Bill looked at it. Something was dreadfully wrong for
them to receive a letter from the War Department. He
felt sick and confused, not knowing whether to open the
letter or not.
It was addressed to Elizabeth. The writing was neat and
looked official. Bill knew he had to open the letter
before he went into the lounge room, in case it was the
worst of news. He eased open the letter, removed it as
quietly as possible and read it.
‘How am I going to tell Elizabeth this?’ he thought, as
he felt the bile rise in his throat. ‘There is no easy
way I can think of to break this terrible news.’
Elizabeth and her mother looked up as Bill returned to
the room, noticing his face had turned an ashen colour.
Elizabeth saw the envelopes in his hand. A white
envelope and a brown official one. She started to shake.
She put her knuckles in her mouth to stop herself
screaming. Tears ran down her cheeks.
‘Dad, no, please tell me it’s not Jack?’
Elizabeth’s mother sat beside her, putting her arm
around her.
Bill tried to read the letter aloud. The words burned
into his brain and he felt the bile in his throat. He
looked at Elizabeth whilst trying to say the words that
were written before him, but nothing would come out,
only his mouth opening and closing.
‘Dad, please tell me he’s not dead,’ Elizabeth pleaded
through her tears.
‘No. No. Not for sure,’ Bill tried to be consoling but
the wrong words came out.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror at the portent of her
father’s words.
‘What does it say?’ she begged, standing up and grabbing
his arm.
‘I’ll read it,’ he replied, took a deep breath and read
slowly.
Dear Mrs. Cardwell,
We
regret to inform you that Private J. Cardwell, Second
Battalion Coldstream Guards, service number 8520 was
reported missing in action on the 26th August
1914. We will advise you of any further information
about his wellbeing.
Colonel A Periera, Officer Commanding Coldstream Guards.
Bill saw the horror on Elizabeth’s face, and put his
arms out to hold her.
‘Not my Jack, please, not my Jack,’ Elizabeth pleaded.
She was shaking and gasping for breath. ‘He promised me,
he wouldn’t break his promise. Not my Jack! Please,
please tell me he’s not dead! He can’t be dead, he
promised me,’ she sobbed, tears flowing down her cheeks.
Both Martha and Bill wrapped their arms around her and
tried to comfort her.
‘Now love, it didn’t say he was dead, only missing. He
still might be alright,’ Martha said soothingly.
‘Yes, love,’ Bill added. ‘If he was dead they’d say so,
but it says only that he’s missing, so he might be
alright.’
‘You think so?’ Elizabeth stared at them. ‘Is he still
alive?’ She was desperate to grasp at any possibility.
‘Look, love, he might walk into the army camp tomorrow
bold as brass. He probably got lost. He’ll find his way
back.’ Bill tried to smile to make light of the
situation.
‘My Jack would do that.’ Elizabeth clung to the
possibility, seeing a vision of Jack in uniform.
‘At least he’s not reported dead so let’s wait and see.
He’ll be alright, I know he will,’ Martha said hugging
her daughter. ‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and we can
talk of the good times.’
‘How long before we know?’ Elizabeth asked her father.
‘I don’t think it will be long, they soon find lost
soldiers,’ Bill replied, hoping his words had some truth
in them. ‘A few days at the most, hopefully. Then you’ll
know he is ok.’
Elizabeth wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief and
gave her father a weak smile. ‘I hope so; I couldn’t
bear to wait too long.’
Ethel had listened quietly and she was also crying,
holding on to her mother. ‘He’ll come home, I know he
will. Won’t he, Mum?’ Ethel tried to assure Elizabeth.
‘He told me he would never leave you Lizzie, so there.’
Elizabeth felt drained of energy. ‘I think I’ll lie down
for a while. I’m tired, and maybe I’ll see Jack in my
dreams.’
‘Certainly, love. I’ll bring you another cup of tea when
you get up. You’ll feel much better then.’ Martha took
Elizabeth’s arm and walked her up to her small bedroom.
Elizabeth lay on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to
see Jack, but all she felt was a cold knot of fear
inside her, and she felt very alone and vulnerable. She
covered mouth with her hand, stifling a sob, and quietly
cried herself into a disturbed sleep, visions of a
bloodied and hurt Jack stalking her mind.
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