Enter Matt

Well, we seem to have come to a good place where yes, Matt has already 'entered' as such, but a decent introduction into the workings of this incorrigible Australian is needed. So, here goes...

"What did the major want?" Matt questioned his mate as the flap of the dugout was lifted.

"Hmmnf," Walter grunted. "Asked me to spy."

"Spy? Have fun with that."

"Yeah. And translate anything that comes through. But basically try to get whatever I can out of Fritz when we catch him alive."

"Interrogation, eh?" Matt made a rasping noise as he took a gulp of cold tea. "Gah! Horrid stuff this watered down muck. Hey! Someone's put mud in my tea! Just you wait until I get my hands on him..." The irate Australian chucked his contaminated beverage over his shoulder and, with a grimace, focused his attention back on Walter, who was standing dejectedly in front him.

"Aw, c'mon. You'll be doing something real useful. I get to sit in a bloody sap for hours on end trying to catch a word over the roar of the guns. Bloody impossible, but that's what happens when you skip school I guess."

"But that's not the point," Walter muttered, "I don't know who I am anymore. They gave me a choice: go back to who you were or become someone you're not and do a great service to your country and the Empire."

"Empire my arse!" the Australian ejaculated. "Tommie was he? No good."

"Yes. He wasn't like that though. No. He was just so-" he struggled for words "So blunt and upfront about it. Guess I've been avoiding stuff like this all my life."

"Whadaya mean?"

"I didn't join up at first. I could've, but I was too afraid. War's horrible, and most people couldn't see that. The whole attitude to the war was wrong. Potting Huns, adventure, vent some anger out on men like yourself...none of it made sense. Besides, war is so ugly and definitely not glorious like everyone makes it out to be. Why would I want to be part of that?"

Matt was staring queerly at the other man. He seemed to be doubting something, dwelling on a thought that had not presented itself to him before now.

"Call me a coward because I was. I had no wish to have another man's blood on my hands. It was selfish and I'm ashamed of it. And to think I am still alive. God, why didn't I die? I don't deserve to still be alive. Not now and not ever." Here Walter broke down. The guilt of life weighed heavily upon his heart.

With a grunt Matt plopped himself down in the mud and sighed.

"The main thing is that you're here now. Life's not worth wasting while you got it. Live for the moment, that's what I say. Never much point thinkin' too far ahead. Wouldn't want to be disappointed if it all ended and you never got to have it after all."

They sat there for a long time, listening to the distant whine and bang of shells at the front. Every now and then one would land close by and the earthen walls of the dugout would shake with the impact.

"I used to see everything differently. Sunrise wasn't just the sun rising, it was the birth of a new day, filled with excitement and adventure. The world was beautiful, and good, everything was very good. Life had the bitter sweet taste of a departed dream. But now..." he shuddered, "Now everything is bloody and torn and ruined. There is not a skerrick of beauty left. It's all been blown apart or buried in mud. Horrible, grey mud, hiding bodies and God only knows what else. I wanted to die. You know that Matt? I didn't want to have to live with the horror of it all," he seemed disgusted by his words.

"Neither do any of us. Wouldn't mind copping it right now. Got nothin' to lose. No wife or kid or family...say, don't you have a girl? Never told me about her," he winked as he elbowed his friend, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Walter couldn't help but feel cheered by this statement. Then he frowned.

"I can't write to her though. No one's meant to know who I really am, in case someone finds me out. I'm still dead. Living dead," he shook his head sadly. "She's the loveliest girl in the world. Sweet and good and generous. And patient! God, I miss her."

"What's her name?" Matt asked, his tone betraying the slightest bit of jealousy.

"Una. She's got the nicest blue eyes you'll ever see. And raven black hair that's so long it touches her waist." Walter chuckled, "Jealous?"

"Yeah, I reckon. Sounds like a beauty. Care to share?"

"I should think not! If you dare to even-"

"Easy mate, I was only kidding," Matt looked a bit hurt by Walter's reaction.

"Has she got a sister?"

"Yep, but she belongs to Jem."

"Whose Jem? I don't know much about you Walt. And you don't know much about me. Funny that, after all we've been through."

"Well, I come from a well to do family in P.E Island, Prince Edward Island," Walter answered the other man's confused frown.

"Thought you said you were Canadian?" Matt said sceptically.

"I am. P.E Island is off the coast, on the side of the Atlantic."

"I never listened in geography," came the blunt reply.

"Surely you've looked at a map of the 'great British Empire' at least once in your life!" but on noticing the doubtful glance, Walter fairly laughed in disbelief, "Do you mean to tell me you don't even know where you are right now? You can't picture the European continent where you might lose your life for a country that isn't your own?"

"Alright alright, take it easy. I was in the back row when they showed us where Egypt was. And ever since I've kept my distance from the types who usually carry useless things like maps of the world around in their back pockets. What bloody good is a map of flamin' Africa gunna do in a hell hole like this? Ain't no mud over there, or if there is, it won't hold a pin to this!" Matt raised his boot, the sole of which was caked in a thick layer of Somme mud.

"Alright. I'll make you a deal. If you teach me how to be a soldier like yourself, I'll teach you what your own country looks like. Next time you see a flat bit of mud, I'll do a drawing, a nice sketch perhaps." Walter extended his left hand.

Shaking it vigorously, Matt grinned. "You just lack confidence that's all. No good having to pretend you're dead. But don't worry, I'll remind you that you're alive when you forget. A good pinch should do the trick."

"Humph! Just as long as you don't do it while I'm sleeping, as you have the annoying habit of doing. I swear, you don't sleep at all! And talk about a cat with nine lives! That shell blew up right next to you but you're still all in one piece. Say, aren't we meant to see the quarter master at some stage before we head back?"

With that, the two men rose, and bending over so as to avoid banging their heads on the low door way, left the relative safety of their dugout to enquire about some uniforms. After all, no one likes looking like the enemy when they're not!