Hello guys! This was undoubtedly the chapter I most enjoyed writing, and I admit that moved me writing the end. And what this means? Means that: please share your thoughts! Just more three chapters till the end! I hope you enjoy!
Notes: Pay attention to the historical dates.
In 1916, Gold was 22.
The Last chapter (18) was rewritten!
Belle was lying on the narrow bed that she barely fit and now was even smaller with the company of the man who held her in his arms. She caressed his face constantly, to be convinced that Gold was there indeed. He was so exhausted that occasionally, ended up falling asleep, to then wake up with a start and re-embraces her tightly.
"Tell me, my love, what can we do?" She asked. "There must be some place in the world we can run away.".
Gold gently stroked the outline of his child under the thin and white skin of Belle's belly.
"You must stay here until our son born. There is no other choice. I'm leaving tomorrow and, God willing, I'll find a safe place to stay until the end of the war. I promise this will not take long.".
"For years I've heard that and it seems that the war will never come to an end" Belle sighed.
"It will end, Belle, and you have to believe that. And then, when it's over and I find a safe place where we can be together, I'll come get you and our son.".
"Please don't leave me! I cannot stand life without you. Please..." those words, she knew to be useless, were muffled against heat chest of Adrian.
"It will just be for a few more months and you'll have to remain brave. Be strong, for the sake of the baby. And someday, I'll sit down with it on my lap and talk about the courage it's mother demonstrated to bring it to the world. Belle, I said I would find you and kept my promise," he said, kissing her forehead, then her nose and her lips tenderly. "I will not disappoint you in the future. Believe me.".
"I believe you. Let's talk about happier subjects. Tell me about your son" Belle asked, curious about everything that had happened in the previous months.
"Bae is nineteen. So... Grown. Oh Belle, I can hardly believe I found him." Gold said, closing his eyes and grinning while envisioning the boy. "It took about two months to find out where he was. When we were about to meet him, we discovered that the Gestapo had come before us. I thought I had lost my son." Belle paid attention to every word he spoke to her. "But, Jefferson managed to discover the location where he was arrested. Then we could invade the local...".
"You what?" Belle sat up, so she could look directly to Gold. How they had managed to get into a house that was being occupied by the Germans and had gotten out of there alive?
"Don't worry, dear. We get to go unnoticed by a trap door and found the cells easily. It did not take more than an hour..." Gold said, wrapping one of the strands of Belle's hair in his fingers.
"You're lying." Belle told him dryly. She was not stupid to believe that they had succeeded without the Germans were even suspicious of something.
Gold sighed. Who was he, trying to hide something from that woman? It was obvious that the Germans would realize. Although they had acted with a relatively large group of the Resistance, it was evident that they would suffer casualties. But Belle didn't need to know that. "There is nothing to worry about, sweetheart. We managed to rescue Bae and I'm here now." It was not worth telling the details of the operation for her just to alarm her. It could make harm to her and to the baby. "I'm here now. This is what matters."
Belle smiled, albeit reluctantly, "Yes, you are" she said, resting her head on his chest. "Tell me about yourself" Belle suggested, suddenly anxious to get all the information she could about the man she loved, the father of her child.
"I grew up in Glasgow," Gold said, still playing with the strands of her hair in his fingers. "We were lucky. My family lived in a beautiful palace-style Schloss, surrounded by several acres of fertile land, we owned and we planted. Thus, families who lived in that place became prosperous. However, I didn't had a beautiful childhood. Although we were rich, my father had serious problems with drink, and have a strong personality. When I finished my studies I wanted to go to college... Study politics and philosophy. But my father forced me to go straight to the army." Gold said with a sigh. "A few months later I was sent to war."
"That's when you... When you'd been injuried?" Belle asked hesitantly.
"Yes" Gold smiled bitterly, remembering with regret of what had experienced.
Northeastern France, July 1, 1916.
Gold pretended to be asleep. Sometimes convinced, sometimes not. He held the rifle between his feathers, leaned against the frame of trunk and planks. Tilted the brim of his helmet and closed his eyes. Heard a click of pliers, someone opening and closing the forceps in nervous movements. Noticed a whistle. A shrill whistle that came from afar. First was like the blow of the wind, then imitated a hoot. Next, the explosion. The ground shook. Rained dirt and gravel..
"I cannot sleep" complained a young man with an Irish accent. "I don't know how you manage. I don't know how you try.".
Gold did as if waking. Bartley Smith was what he had learned to call a friend, or something close to that. He sat beside him, sipping the remains of a cold soup with the rifle resting on the side of the trench. The uniform was the standard of the British Expeditionary Force: dark green, with brown boots and a metallic helmet; the one the soldiers hated. His face was thin and small, weak body, with red beard and brown eyes.
"I have no problem falling asleep" admitted another recruit, Edward Hughes, a fellow flabby and paunchy, now in his 30s. Cleaned the mud stuck to the sole. "I pretend they are drums. The sound is identical, don't you think?".
Gold peered through the periscope. The sun rose, a bright and blue morning. Tried to see beyond the wires and fences, but the enemy barracks were hidden among the clouds of gas. Discharges of guns didn't stop, the two sides were continuous, lifting rock and dust. The space between the Germans and British positions constitute a path of death rippled through continuous artillery fire,that during day and night they punished the ground with explosive ammunition. He turned to his companions. Fit the bayonet.
"Think it'll be today?" Said the Irishman.
"We're bombing the Germans from five days" Gold said. "Three more soldiers joined the group. If this is not a preparation for the attack, don't know what is.".
"Lead thick" Edward agreed, pudgy recruits. "The artillery is launching everything. Heard the last shot? Not only howitzers. Have mortars too.".
"It'll be a slaughter" smiled a Londoner with a big mustache. "There should be no one left. I'll collect some Mauser rifles. I'm putting together a collection.".
The conversation stopped with the approximation of the commanding officer, Lieutenant Aaron Cooper, a young aristocrat of dubious character, who had six months driving the peloton. His uniform was similar to that of the privates, but wore a cap with the royal emblem. The shoes were long and black, with no laces, just like riding boots.
"Attention!" Shouted the sergeant, a Welshman of 50 with thick mustache and fame tough. All they rose, with chest puffed. Lieutenant crossed the trench, in a brief review the troops. Then he stopped in the midst of men.
"Good morning, gentlemen. I have news of the command" He crossed his arms. "General Haig authorized the advance of infantry at 7:30 a.m. today." Silence. "That's right. Let's finish these sausage eaters.".
Still silent. Nobody manifested. No clamour, no response. It was 6:40 a.m., which gave them less than an hour before the start. Cooper put his glove in his fingers. He adjusted his hat. He continued:
"This will be the biggest offensive ever made. I know many of you are tired, I know many want to return home. Do your work and we'll conclude this war until the autumn," he promised, trying to cheer them up. "The day will be decisive. It is the opportunity to write our name and the 23rd Division in the pages of history." And ended with a sentence elitist: "Good luck, gentlemen. Long live the King George.".
Most soldiers responded more under discipline. The lieutenant saluted, moving to another section of the trench. Bartley Smith touched the arm of Gold.
"7:30 a.m.?" He whispered to the sergeant didn't hear him. "Why didn't speak before?".
"Is it to be a surprise attack.".
"Surprise for them, not for us." He poured the mug of soup. "What crap. I forgot to write that letter. I had everything in my head." He took a paper from his pocket. Tested a dull pencil. "I should have known. They gave us hot food last night. Last meal.".
"We will not die, Bartley." Chances were good indeed. The enemy positions were being massacred there days. Hard to imagine that something still moved there. "It will be more like a scavenger hunt. Don't like to hunt?".
The Irish thoughts were elsewhere.
"Montmartre. Is my wife's favorite neighborhood of Paris. I want to visit Paris when the war is over. Been in France?".
"Yes. A few years ago."
"How long are we in this dump?" He had lost track of time.
"Almost two years."
"All of it?" More detonation. "You never told me if you're also married. Never loved?"
"Love is weakness."
"Rather, mate. Love is strength. You are still young, one day will agree with me.".
New burst. An explosion abnormal muffled without popping gear or with that whistle of iron falling.
"That wasn't a mortar" hissed Edward Hughes.
"They are bursting the mines" said Mr. Hyde. Prepared the tripod and stuck the card in Vickers. "When silence, the infantry went into action.".
At 7:20 a.m., ten minutes before the scheduled time, the hurricane of guns fell silent. Over forty kilometers that made up the British line, the entire Fourth Army was ready to start. With the revolver in his hand and a whistle around his neck, Lt. Cooper scanned the field through the periscope, waiting for the signal of the colonels.
Gold was first in line. Checked the equipment. The Lee Enfield rifle had the ammunition cocked, the barrel clean. He carried on the belt, four grenades number 36 and a club with metal head, suitable for close combat, for the case of a direct confrontation.
The lieutenant checked his watch, climbed the ladder of wood. He shot upward. Sounded the whistle, watching the other platoon commanders. Under cover of the guns, the troops have taken over the parapet, moving along, progressing to the devastated region.
The initial impulse to run soon reduced to walking speed when the German rifles fell silent. No sound came from the German trenches, suggesting that most of the enemy soldiers had finally succumbed. The british units were organized in extended lines, with two or three steps between the men and a hundred meters between the rows. Behind came the waves of the support groups of assault, and lastly, the reserves. It was a Olive crowd, reflected Gold. Virtually the entire Expeditionary Force moved out to fight, totaling twenty thousand soldiers in the north and south wings.
Progress became slow since the first meters, with uneven and unstable terrain.
There was a lot of smoke, a mist almost as thick as a London fog. Recruits stumbled across mud puddles, furrows by the heavy rains and the drainage pipes. The ground was treacherous, full of splinters, barbed wire, rebar and concrete chips. But the greater risk was to find a mine or bomb that had not burst.
"I tell you something" The redhead Bartley walked behind him. "I'm not afraid to die. But I'm afraid of being killed.".
"I told you, no one will die." Snapped Gold. He was confident in the Allied strategy, but as they approached the enemy territory, he noticed a disturbance in the mist.
Gold jumped on the Irish, and when the mist fell a bullet broke from the opposing positions. Then came gusts. Shooting grenades, rifles, mortars, howitzers. Gold looked away, envisioned a dozen machine gun nests, on the flanks, in the rear, some newly assembled, armed themselves in open pits by British bombs. A corpse collapsed on him, three men fell at his feet.
"We have to retreat!" Gold yelled, trying to protect himself under a frame of bricks. A projectile scraped his ear, the other pierced his knee.
Bartley was hard, paralyzed. Gold spotted a safer position, thirty yards away. Ignoring the wound in his leg, put his friend on the back and stood up cautiously. But the danger was great; there was no escape. Lead bounced, buzzed capsules. Jumped into a crater, he lay the redhead on the floor.
"You said it would be like a hunt" grumbled Bartley Smith. Gold also noted that he had been hit. The dorse was bleeding, the helmet disappeared in the confusion.
"It's an ambush" Gold thought aloud. "They were hidden in underground shelters.".
A hand grenade with wooden shaft slid into the slot, but luckily thwarted. Another Expeditionary fell, rolled into the hole.
"What crap" the Irishman grabbed his uniform, saw the blood splashing. "I didn't write the damn letter.".
"Let it go." Gold rummaged his pockets. Found a bandage, but his friend was doomed.
"I had so much to do." Bartley's face was leaden, his breathing was fading. "I wish I had more time, not needed to be too much." His heart stopped, the pupils went out. Bartley died with open eyes, and Gold listened to the last murmur: "Paris is lovely this time of year."
When the discharge stopped, Gold returned to the battle field, and what he saw was an unforgettable scene, terrifying and horrendous. Within minutes, it seemed that the entire Expeditionary Force had been destroyed, massacred by the superiority of the German strategy. The land, before asymmetrical, leveled off with a carpet of bodies, mixed with corpses folder from one end to the other horizon. Some moaned, still alive, drowned in streams of blood, choked by successive layers of meat.
Only on the morning of July 1, British losses amounted to nineteen thousand men. The day ended with 72,000 casualties among English, French and German combatants. The Battle of the Somme, as would be described in history books, lasted little more than four months and recorded a million dead and missing. Even today it is considered the bloodiest of the British Army.
Gold stared at the body of Bartley, rolled his head, contemplated the enemy battery. Distinguished more expeditionary fallen, including potbellied Edward Hughes, Lieutenant Mr. Hyde, with it Vickers in his arms, and further away Lieutenant Aaron Cooper, lying with the whistle between his teeth.
For years Gold would recall those words. "I'm not afraid to die. But I'm afraid of being killed," and the last regret. "Paris is lovely this time of year."
Despair gripped him, and limped with his leg, due to the injury that bled abundantly, Gold picked up the rifle, and instead of returning to barracks allies to integrate the new assault groups, he fled...
The couple remained silent, lying next to each other. Belle tried to absorb all the reporting he had described about when he participated in the war and how he had been injuried.
"I ran... I ran away from that hell." Gold said, starting to cry. "I'm a coward. While thousands died fighting to defend the glory of our country, I ran. And my injury is a reminder... So I'll never forget that I'm and always will be a coward."
"Adrian!" Belle sat back and held his face firmly in her hands, but Gold refused to look her in the eyes. "Adrian, look at me... Honey, please... ".
Gold felt his body trembling, knowing that he could never refuse something that Belle asked him, and finally looked at her. Belle also cried.
"Never talk like that again... You're not a coward...".
"If I'm not a coward, what am I? Oh Belle, I'm a coward. I'm a monster! You have no idea of the terrible things I've done... And you, Belle" Gold looked with agony in his eyes. "How are you able to forgive me? How can I forgive myself?"
Although the tears fell down her cheeks incessantly, Belle took a deep breath, looking at him with determination. "Listen to me, Adrian Gold, and listen to me well. You are not a coward, much less a monster. A man that want to save his own life don't make him a coward. You're just a man... An ordinary man." She paused a moment to Gold understand every word she was saying. "And I forgave you because I love you. Of all men, it was you who I chose to love. And I love you completely, with all your flaws and qualities. With all my heart.".
"Oh, Belle... My Belle" Gold pulled her to him, sliding his lips tenderly through Belle's hair. "Down here, beside you, I finally feel at peace. And if I die now, I would die happy." Gold snuggled beside Belle and looked at the reflection of the oil lamp in the dark ceiling. "I think I will remember this night forever. I understand that heaven is not a place like the Garden of Eden that the Bible suggests, or gather a great fortune to have power and status. These are things whose beauty is only on the outside and mean nothing. After all, I'm here in a dark, damp basement, and already sentenced to death. Even so, with you in my arms, I am at peace" Gold said, sobbing with emotion. "My soul is in heaven because I'm here with you."
"Adrian, please" Belle asked. "Hold me like if you'd never let me go.".
In London, as the day dawned, Maurice French thought bitterly that he had not seen his dear daughter for almost two years. Sometimes he picked himself dreaming to be able to see her again, but soon lost hope. He knew that ne would never see her again. Maurice felt uncomfortable with a low hum and insistent, it became a continuous and deafening roar as it passed over him. He went to the window and saw the planes taking off in numerous squadrons, through capital in endless sequence. It was June 6, 1944. D-day was beginning.
The château's residents awoke with the dawn of the region. Those who were above the ground level went from one side to the other nervously; those below also felt scared, fearing the sun that rose in the sky.
Gold woke slowly, but remained on alert when he saw that Belle was crouching on the bed, panting.
"My God," said Belle. "Adrian, I think the baby..." Belle screamed as a contraction brought a wave of pain to her body. "Help me, Adrian! Help me!"