AN: I wrote this ages ago, and have only recently found it on my phone, I hope you like it! Please review!
River
...
It's the long road with no turning,
It's never too late to mend,
The darkest hour is before the dawn,
And even this war must end.
Anon-1918
...
Dawn is breaking.
I can see it on the horizon, spreading over the dark sky like ink on blotting paper.
I suppose we'll be attacking soon. In a way, I'm glad I suppose, anything to kill the incessant boredom. I take the cigarette from my mouth and blow a thin stream of smoke up at the lightening sky. I find it much harder to be brave when I'm bored.
I suppose that's the reason I've been sat here for the past few hours waiting for the sun to come up. Boredom or cowardice, for whatever reason sleep would not find me last night and I find myself leaning on the railings outside the officer's barracks, waiting. Just waiting. I cannot tell you why, or what for, just that I am here now with the smell of horse on the wind and a lit cigarette in my shaking hands.
Jamie joined me a little while. He hasn't said anything, just walked up beside me and leant against the railings with me. My brother in arms, he has always been there for me. He's here now, silently lighting up with shaking hands and skin the colour of the paper wrapped tightly around his tobacco.
I don't think I'll ever forget the look of fear on Charlie's face when the Sergeant Major told us of his plan for the attack. I cannot look at Jamie; I will fall apart if he is scared as well.
The light from the approaching dawn is getting stronger now and I close my eyes, letting the warm pink glow bathe my eyelids. I cannot tell you why it feels like the last time I will ever feel it.
Perhaps we are not fighting this war in the way they tell us. Perhaps we fight against each. Certainly between the Officers we have competition, we are public school boys, are we are used to it. Sometimes, it is only who can hold out the longest before we go stir crazy. Only Jamie is a seasoned warrior and on nights when sleep alludes us, but the commonplace horrors of the battlefields do not, we fight to see who will stay alone the longest. Lingering in our studies, pretending to work, waiting to see who will stay alone the longest. Waiting to hear the door click and a sheepish little smile to appear around the doorway, clutching a whisky glass and discussing a trivial matter, anything to avoid sleep. Or waiting until we can bear it no longer before slipping out of our rooms and into someone else's.
As light begins to flood the camp I look around and realise that people are rising, men are wandering from their tents, unshaven. They look pale and drawn; they are as scared as I am. I look to my left and Jamie's small smile helps me forgo my fears, I am a leader, I must help.
As I stand later, tacking Joey up to give myself something to do. I realise it was not death I was fearing last night, but loneliness. Or rather dying alone. In the harsh light of day, I still fear death, but I lack last night's cold, fearful emptiness. Jamie's presence at my side has depleted it and the gradual appearance of men from the tents has rid me of it completed. The dawn has rid me of my anxiety, but not my fear.
It is true what they say, the darkest hour is before the dawn. Surely this war must end?