Sorry for the last chapter. Bit of artistic liscene here, but mostly close to the truth. Enjoy!

The first sensation Ken had before waking up was the distant sound of voices as if he was listening from the bottom of a well and the faint burst of pain from his arm. As he slowly opened his eyes, he could see he was in a tent surrounded by several other beds and realised that he was in hospital. Ordinary memory took longer to come back and it was a while before Ken remembered the events of the battle. He just lay there, letting the events replay themselves silently in his mind.

"Feeling better, son?" Ken looked up and saw one of the officers looking down at him. The officer gave a weak smile. "Bit of a Blighty one, eh?"

Ken nodded shyly. "Yes, sir."

The officer sat down and took a few breaths before starting. "You'll be here for a while. Doctors are hopeful for full recovery." He paused. "Listen, we need a man to replace one of our chaps in stores. I don't suppose you're interested?"

Ken thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. The officer smiled back and left him there.
Ken could remember doing the stores course in England during training. He had mis-heard the man giving the lecture and heard him say 'Darlington'. He was overjoyed, he could stay nearer to...Jenny. But it wasn't until the form arrived that he found out it was Doncaster. Too late to back out now so he did the course, found it interesting, continued doing it...

Ken sighed. That was a long time ago. Jenny was even longer back. He could even remember his first meeting with her.

1938, North-East England, Bowes Museum near Barnard Castle.

It was a bright, sunny day. Ken was leaning on the stone rail. Behind him was the huge mansion which housed a vast museum. In front of him, down below was the enormous front garden divided into four sections of flowers with a fountain in the middle. Ken was taking in the sun, enjoying what was to be a nice day. He smiled and looked down into the garden.
It was then he saw her. A bright, fair-faced girl with long, dark hair and a light cotton dress on. She moved towards the fountain, almost graceful and looked at it, her back to Ken.
Before Ken realised it, he was right behind her with his heart beating away like mad. Hearing his approach, she turned slightly and smiled a warm, friendly smile. Her voice was soft and a little shy, "Hello."
Ken smiled back and felt bold. "Hello there. I...saw you from the ledge." He gestured behind him and continued, holding out his hand "I'm Kenneth."
Her smile widened and she shook it gently, as though he was made of glass, "I'm Jenny. Jenny Butler."

Even though he was miles from home and still hurting from the burn on his arm, Ken could think of Jenny and still felt that warm glow of happiness in his chest. He had promised to come back and marry her. Maybe on her birthday to make the memory last...
Ken stopped and looked out the tent flap. If he got back.

When he got out, he was told he could stay back and watch the battle. The first attempt (which Ken was involved in) had failed, but the next attempt would push 'Jerry' out of the country and win the war before next week. That was what the general feeling was and Ken was obliged to watch since he was now in stores. Ken even took two photos of the 'battlefield' before it began.

Ken would regret staying to watch. It wasn't the glorious charge like in the stories he was told, it was carnage. The main part of the battle was the large hill overlooking the town and the troops were required to climb a extremely steep and rocky hill, almost a mountain, carrying heavy equipment and wearing cumbersome uniforms. All this while under heavy fire from the opposing German forces and unable to fire back effectively. The attack on the town was almost as bad. The defences were set up so as to cause maximum damage to the Allies. Even from his position near the back, Ken could see the smoking ruins of the destroyed tanks and the bodies of the infantrymen who lost its protection. Those who survived were either pinned down with no support or were captured by the enemy. As the battle petered out and the full extent of the c asualties became clear, Ken sobbed a little before being physically sick. He wasn't alone in that respect...

Ken would later recall the horrific attempts as the British, the Americans, the Australians, the New Zealanders all trying slightly different tactics for the same goal and how each one failed miserably. The Polish made the last attempt which succeeded. The hill was taken, the town was secured. The cost was dear and Ken could still see the depressed, dispirited look in the men's eyes and shuddered.
He had been lucky to survive this far and in future, would use the battle as a prime example of his belief in the war. 'We moved when the Germans permitted us to'. But the war had yet more horrors to show before Ken could go home.