Heart

by Paula Hayes

CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rats

  Blake kept his vigil on the front verandah. Straight backed and crossed legged he sat on the beanbag and hummed their special song to Beth. He felt sure she would hear it and feel it as the melody traversed the wooden door and made its way down the long passage to the kitchen table.

  Beth sat uncomfortably at the table while Natalie made a pot of soup, “It’s getting cold out there, can’t we let Blake in?” asked Nat.

  Beth shook her head and opened a packet of colourful snakes. Vacantly, she stared into space as her hands reached automatically for the green ones first.

  Natalie sighed and chopped the herbs into microscopic pieces.

  “So you met my old pal, Leo today?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I am not crazy?”

  “No, not much,” she smiled at her mother and laughed.

  Anna stacked wood in the fireplace and lit it up. It smoldered and crackled then ignited into leaping orange flames, its patterns danced on the green wall. She shivered, captivated by its power.

  “Chilly isn’t it,” remarked Dylan. He watched the rain trickle down the blocked gutter and drew a sad face on the frosty window as he looked at Jacqui.

  Jacqui sat at the antique table wrapped in a throw rug, engrossed in her library books on World War One. She was now obsessed with trench warfare … the hardships beyond all of their comprehension.

  “Did you know that the winter of 1916 and 1917 in France was the coldest and wettest in forty years? It made trench warfare hell on Earth. The soldiers’ feet were constantly soaking in freezing water and mud that sucked them down like quicksand. But if they developed Trench Feet, it was considered their own fault … that’s bloody outrageous, that can’t be a war crime? Some of the wounded were stuck for days in this freezing sludge waiting for a stretcher-bearer. Then it took four men, one per corner of the stretcher to painfully slowly bring the injured in.” Pale faced, Jacqui looked up from her book.

  “What other cheery gems do you have for us, Jacs?” sighed Dylan.

  “Well, rats feature heavily in this article,” she snickered.

  “Rats?” said Dyl. He paused from drawing stick people on the misty pane.

  “You better not let Beth see the one of her,” chastened Anna.

  Dylan looked at the two large circles topped with straight lines for hair and two little rabbit feet things sticking out from under the bottom circle.

  “Why? I thought I nailed it!” he laughed.

  “Yes Dylan, RATS! In these shocking conditions, rats decided to bunk down with the soldiers. The rats grew as fat as overweight Chihuahuas (no offence Lottie) as they feasted on corpses and body parts.” She looked over at Dylan’s green face. Lottie’s ears pointed up momentarily and then she fell back to sleep.

  “Well, that has ruined it for me,” pouted Dylan.

  “Ruined what? Were you planning a holiday in a trench?”

  “No, I was thinking of purchasing a rat. I need a familiar, a furry friend, you know, like a silent compadre. Apparently they are very clever quick learners and fastidiously well groomed. I feel a certain connection. I feel a void in my life,” said Dylan gloomily.

  “You’ll always have us Dyl,” said Jacqui, distractedly without looking up from her book.

  “I’m sure a rat would make the perfect soulmate for you, especially if you needed help out of a plastic maze, while stabbing someone in the back as you abandoned ship … actually it sounds like a perfect match,” laughed Anna.

  “You are a very rude girl. If I am a rat that makes you a bulldog with chronic PMT.”

  “What’s your animagnus Jacs?”

  “Hmmm,” said Jacqui distracted. “Oh I don’t know, a lemur?”

  “What! I always thought you were more of a prancing pony. Why lemur? Oh I know— you like to move it, move it,” Dylan gyrated his pelvis. “We like to move it, move it.”

  “No, that is not the reason King Julian,” she replied, still fixated on her book. “Back to the trench life peeps. Perhaps your animagnus could be a goldfish, if your attention span is any indication of it.”

  “Biatch!” huffed Dylan.

  “But you are right about the rats being clever. Trench soldiers swore that the rats would scarper seconds before the German shells started to fall and explode. They were the ultimate survivors. The soldiers couldn’t get rid of them because one loved up ratty couple could easily make just under a thousand babies every year. There were literally thousands and thousands of these pumped up rodents eating body bits, contaminating supplies and then getting jiggy with it.”

  Dylan put his hand over his mouth, horrified.

  “I won’t mention the head lice, the body lice, the frogs, the mustard gas and the stench of humanity,” said Jacqui in one breath cringing.

  “Please don’t.” Dylan pretended to vomit.

  “On a cheerier note, back home in Perth, hundreds of single German men were rounded up and forced to live in camps. There was one on Rottnest Island and one in Fremantle I think and off shore in boats.”

  “Really? I always thought of WW1 as far away,” said Dylan. “Why? Were they planning a political coup?”

  “No, they happened to be born in Germany and Austria during a touchy time in history … oh I forgot to ask—how is that pinkie feeling today Dylan?” said Anna quietly.

  “Fine thank you,” he replied subdued.

  “Right peeps, we digress enough! Let’s get on with plowing through all this information!” Her green eyes flashed with genuine interest and Anna knew it would be a stiff competition between the two for the end of year History prize, except Jacqui wouldn’t even realize she was in the semi’s! Hippy chick.

  “I will read Les’ info and Dylan, you can read through Leo’s. Jacqui, you can find out what all these tiny military abbreviations mean and then pinpoint places on a map.”

  Jacqui unrolled a small map of the world and a larger map of France. “It’s Mum’s, she has travelled everywhere. I’m going to too … one day. Now let us begin ladies,” said Jacqui enthusiastically.

  Anna opened up her folder and traced Les’ journey with her finger.

  “So on the 17th of January 1916 Les leaves Fremantle and embarks on the HMAT Borda and disembarks at Heliopolis in February. What about Leo, Dylan?”

  “Heliopolis? Where is that? Home of Zeus?” quizzed Dylan.

  “No you fool, more like the home of Tutankhamen! It’s an ancient city in Cairo.”

  “Then Les travels onto Serapeum.”

  “Wow,” said Jacqui as she clicked on images of Serapeum. “Breathtaking!”

  “Sounds like a crystal holding hippy angel,” muttered Dylan.

  “No, it’s a fabulous necropolis, near the Pyramids. Focus you idiot.”

  Anna continued on, “And then Les left Egypt through Alexandria.”

  “Alexandria the Great?”

  “Nope, the ancient seaport, Mr One hundred and forty seven.

  “Whatever,” said Dylan, “I don’t do geography.”

  “No, only complicated plastic mazes with the promise of cheese, you dickhead! Pay attention!”

  “I am going home if you sass me once more,” sulked Dylan.

  Jacqui drew a circle around Fremantle, Western Australia and then drew a wobbly line to the three stopovers in Egypt.

  “So Les arrived in Egypt to find that the Australian Imperial Force, the AIF is growing. In fact, it has doubled and new divisions are forming. Looks like Les was shipped out to England and T O S from the cavalry into the artillery.”

  “T O S? Well I know that one! It means ‘teacher over shoulder’ or ‘the opposite sex’.” Dylan licked his lips and winked at Anna.

  “I’m going to vomit all over you in a minute Dylan. You promised you would take this seriously. Please tell me what Leo did?”

  “I am
taking it seriously. BTW, Deepak asked me if you had a boyfriend yesterday.”

  “Did he?” Anna looked up from the scattered papers. Jaqcui watched her face blush.

  “Oh Anna, he is so adorable, I have already picked your couple song,” Jacqui enthused.

  “What did you say,” she asked with her finger and eyes on Heliopolis, which was now blurring and floating away on the River Nile.

  “I told him you were seeing a boy called Leo!”

  “YOU SAID WHAT!”

  “Don’t worry, treat them mean and keep them keen.”

  “Shut up Dylan,” said Jacqui standing up and boomeranging a book at Dylan’s head. It missed.

  “I am only suggesting if this nonexistent love affair with soldier ghost falls through, I know a hot-blooded Hindu who would love to hold your hand and get in touch with your chakras.”

  “Stop it Dylan!” A well-aimed pencil case made a satisfying clunk as it hit Dylan’s fauxhawk. Anna smiled at her gratefully.

  Jacqui was delighted with the change in Anna. She was almost human. Leo’s abrupt entrance into their little world had made Anna rethink a lot of her ‘facts.’

  Dylan rubbed his head but would not be silenced, “You can see it as well,” he pointed to Jacqui. “Anna is so intense that it is highly possible in fifty years time that she will be pouring tea from her imaginary teapot for two, as a shrivelled up old lady ranting about the younger generation to Leo and his remaining boot and … ear. Edward and Bella were sexy, Anna and Leo are weird.”

  “Too far Dylan,” said Jacqui in a dangerous voice and pointed to the bottom of the table.

  Anna turned her body to face only Jacqui while Dylan moved to the far end of the table in disgrace. He crossed his arms like a petulant toddler with his head down, his large slapstick feet kicked at the mat while he muttered, “Well it’s true, Deepak’s had the hots for you for ages and you only have eyes for Mr Invisible. If I were in love with a ghost, you would have organized an intervention party, a pyschologist and an exorcism by now. It’s not normal you know … plus you always pick on me … always,” he mumbled himself into a chair. “Not fair!”

  “I am ignoring you from this point on. You no longer exist.” Jacqui’s voice was low and threatening with a just perceptible hiss.

  Anna picked up Leo’s documents and studied them for herself. It took a while for the words and letters to become words and letters again instead of taunting senseless symbols. The papers shook in her hand as she struggled to control her rage and embarrassment. She was chafing at the lead but what could she say? Dylan was right. It took all her strength to carry on as she said in a steadier tone, “Leo’s journey is exactly the same as Les’.” She looked up genuinely perplexed. Leo’s life quickly absorbed her again and she continued on, “They were moved around a lot but always managed to stick together. It seems strange.”

  “I am ignoring you as well,” trilled Jacqui sickly sweet. “Back to the matter at hand, T O S means taken on strength. It means he was taken in and counted as one of the battalion. They in turn became responsible for him.”

  “So Les and Leo make the long voyage to Egypt, to find that they were needed in France. Why is that Jacqui?” asked Anna, ignoring the Dylan sideshow.

  “I am so glad you asked me Miss Anna.” Jacqui took a pencil and twirled her hair around it and fastened it into a bun.

  “There are, of course, many reasons. But just looking at the facts quickly, Australia answered the call for more troops after the AIF entry requirements became less strict. In fact, forty thousand men answered the call. Extra divisions were made in Egypt and trained by experienced soldiers from Gallipoli. Divisions began multiplying. I am looking at the Embarkation nominal rolls here and most of the young men’s occupations fall into working class. They were labourers, timber hands, farm hands, miners, shearers and clerks. The new divisions were pretty rough and ready. Actually, they were really raw, some boys hadn’t even used a gun, yet within six months these boys were fighting in the Battle of Somme, France.”

  “Thank you Jacqui for your thorough research,” said Anna, giving Dylan a haughty look. “They both embarked on the HMS Corsica and headed over to England, disembarked at Plymouth and ended up in Bulford.”

  “What was Bulford, Jacqui?” said Anna pointedly.

  “Why thank you for asking Anna. So nice to be taken seriously.” She glared at Dylan who yawned noisily in retaliation. She picked up her pen and drew a shaky line from Egypt to Plymouth, England.

  “It was a military training camp in Wiltshire. If you Google Earth you can still see the outline of the practice trenches running throughout the countryside. It was supposed to introduce our boys to the perils of trench warfare and the joys of the Motherland.”

  Anna ran her pointer fingers over Les and Leo’s paperwork. “There are so many abbreviations, it’s like its been written by a thirteen year old. LOL,” chuckled Anna.

  “R O F L M A O,” giggled Jacqui.

  “A W H F Y?” sulked Dylan, “cos I’m not!”

  “What is O D P?” asked Anna.

  “It is overstaying your day pass.”

  “Look, in July 1916 the pair of them overstayed their day passes on the same day. My guess is they were getting drunk before they hit the Front,” said Anna disapprovingly.

  “Hmm probably at the Rose and Crown.” Jacqui read out from the screen.

  “How could you know that?”

  “Easy, I looked up the closest pub in walking distance from Bulford.”

  “Then I discovered that Stonehenge was a thirteen minute walk. They could have been overwhelmed by the mystical forces coming from the Henge and become disorientated, unable to find their way home.”

  “As likely as being abducted by a couple of druids or aliens,” snorted Anna.

  “Yes that does sound ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as tracking the military information of a sexy soldier ghost in Limbo. Where should I circle Otherside on the map?” Jacqui laughed.

  Dylan sniggered from the edge of the dining table.

  “Point taken, although promise if I start writing odes to unicorns you will lock me up.”

  “Promise!” replied Jacqui.

  Anna put down her pen and looked at Jacqui.

  “How would you cope if you couldn’t google?”

  “I can’t bear to think about it. It’s like saying how would you cope if someone poked your eyes out. I would be cast into a world of darkness.” Jacqui shuddered.

  “Okay let’s finish off Les’ and Leo’s big adventure. They arrive in France.”

  “Hallelujah,” murmured Dylan. “We are nearing the end. Hurry up and die already Leo.”

  “Can you hear something Jacqui?”

  “No Annakins I hear nothing, perhaps it was the scuttling of a rat.”

  “Perhaps it was.”

  Dylan crossed his arms and pouted, he went to say something else but thought better of it. But then ended up saying it anyway. “Cairo, England and France! Sounds like a Contikki tour?” he whined from the far end of the table. “They have seen more of the world than me!”

  “Recommendation, don’t speak again.” Jacqui stood up and glared at Dylan. He studied a knot in the wood, while giving Jacs the finger. Her glare created an artic chill tunnel and Dylan retracted the finger and studied its varnish.

  “Unfortunately, here is where it gets a bit vague. Once they arrive in France it is only marked ‘in the field’ or France. They seem to get T O S a fair bit. There is a pattern forming. Leo is transferred and Les follows.” Anna traced her finger over the hand written notes of long ago.

  She read quietly while attempting to cross reference the two soldiers’ paths. “I think I can make out the word Amiens. The writing is so squiggly. And then Les gets a P.U.O at least twice, what is that?”

  “P.U.O. is Pyrexia of Unknown Origin. It mean
s a high body temperature over thirty-eight degrees with no obvious cause. It was probably Trench Fever.”

  “Don’t you mean Trench Feet, get it right!” shouted Dylan gleefully from his exiled naughty chair.

  “Did you hear a noise?”

  “No Annakins, I did not. Could it be a rat in the roof?”

  “Hmmm curious,” mocked Anna.

  “Trench Fever was a flu like condition that struck down hundreds of thousands of soldiers. They suffered influenza like symptoms and were hospitalised for days. This was a very pesky inconvenience for those running a war so Trench Fever was thoroughly investigated and the cause was found to be —”

  “Oh let me guess, rats!” piped up Dylan.

  “Lice pooh! Trench Fever was summer time fun and winter sports held the thrill of Trench Foot.”

  Anna continued reading the army archives information silently.

  “Les and Leo continued to serve King and Country until the 21st of March 1918.”

  “What happened that day?” asked Dylan innocently.

  “You’re a queensize dickhead Dylan,” said Jacqui sweetly.

  “Leo is K. I. A (KILLED IN ACTION) SHELL.

  Les suffered WDS.BOTH.LEGS.COMPOUND.FRACTURE. SEVERE. SHELL.”

  “That month and year sound familiar. Wasn’t that the start of the German Spring Offensive? End of March 1918? Remember we studied Owen’s poem in context of the war in Lit last term? I loved Wilfred Owen so insightful and visual,” said Jacqui softly.

  “I hated Wilfred Owen, so depressing and boring. None can compare to the Bard. But yes I do remember Miss Scott talking about Operation Michael, the Germans went all out at the end of March 1918 to win the war before the Americans got involved,” explained Dylan. “Successful. Not much.”

  “Where is Les taken to hospital? That is a big clue, it won’t be too far away from the shell site,” said Dylan, finally getting interested.

  Anna ran her finger forward over the archive. “Boulogne Military Hospital.”

  “If Les is taken to Boulogne Hospital and the last military entry is a very squiggly Amiens, the Front Line and Leo can’t be too far away from these points. We just need to research all of the cemeteries nearby these points here.” He pointed to a top small corner near the French Belgium border.

  “The rat does know one or two things after all,” said Anna begrudgingly.

  “Well that narrows it down. There are hundreds of graveyards and thousand of graves.” The image of white crosses dotting the French countryside with military precision flashed up on Jacqui’s tablet. “There are so many … I’m starting to feel hopeless, it’s useless.” She continued to type and then slumped as the screen flashed the answer to her inquiry.

  “Forty six thousand Australian men died in France.” She brought up the image of a sea of headstones rising up from lush green fields.

  Anna and Jacqui looked at the screen. They turned the tablet to face Dylan. Jacqui’s vision blurred as she wiped away a few fledgling tears. She watched Anna dab at her eyes with the corner of her cardigan but she couldn’t contain the tears. She had never seen Anna cry before … almost once or twice but nothing like this. Dylan reached into his pocket and brought out a crisp Calvin Klein handkerchief and blew his nose. A loud bugle noise popped out and then he continued to mop his teary face. He jumped up and ran back down to the two girls and attempted to embrace them tenderly. “Get off me Dylan, you freak,” cried Anna.

  She looked down at the few remaining archive pages, “Les’ story is just how Leo told it. He is taken to 11th Central clearing station, then to the 53rd Military Hospital in Boulogne, then back to England to the East Suffolk Hospital. The rest of the information concerns his discharge on the 19th of April 1919. Then there is the wait for repatriation.”

  “Was he entitled to land? You know war veterans were given tracts of land.”

  “No. It was only given to able bodied men.”

  “What was he before the war?”

  “The nominal roll says Cab Driver. I guess he drove horse drawn carriages. How romantic!”

  “After the war, Les was given the job of an elevator man in a Department store in the city.”

  “From the Great Outdoors to which floor please?” Dylan’s voice cracked.

  “And what about the rest of the information concerning Leo,” asked Jacqui.

  “There is this form reporting his death, Army Form B. 2090A entitled Field Service.”

  “So that will tell us the place of death?” asked Jacqui.

  “It just says, ‘In the field’. Really quite a useful report,” said Anna sarcastically. CWOT.

  She continued on. “Place and date of burial? Guess?” Anna answered herself, “‘Not yet to hand’ is typed in crookedly. How helpful. The typing is terrible.”

  “Oh don’t be too tough on the Officer who wrote this. Often dead bodies were left out in the open while the living and the wounded were dealt with. If they were lucky, the dead would eventually be buried in a makeshift kind of way, only to be eventually moved and reburied in proper graveyards and war cemeteries. Plenty of room for human error,” said Jacqui.

  “Yuck,” offered Dylan sympathetically to all the lost souls. “He may not even have a grave.”

  “We have a lot of information but is it going to help Leo move on?” asked Anna.

  “We know that they were in the same battalion in the same brigade. They were killed and injured on the same day, probably by the same shell.”

  “Shell fallout is widespread, they may not have even been near each other in the final moments,” offered Dylan.

  “True, true," replied Anna. "Although I get a feeling that they were near each other when Leo died. I think that moment made a massive impact on one’s life and on the other’s afterlife.”

  She stared into the fire transfixed by flames, Les and Leo’s photo sat on the mantelpiece their young faces were illuminated and then cast into darkness by the slow foxtrot of the fire.

  “We have found out a lot today, this is a fantastic start peeps.”

  “That’s just it, it's only the start. I don’t know how helpful ‘in the field’ and ‘not to hand’ are at resolving a teenage boy's one hundred year old quest. What are we going to tell Leo? This is stuff he already knows—him and his mate Les came a cropper! What will we do now? There are still so many questions. How did he meet Les? How did he know Agnes?”

  “We ask him,” said Dylan, lining up his biros as he packed up his bag.

  Jacqui and Anna stared at Dylan. If only it was that simple thought Anna. His memory is full of holes.

  “Of course we ask him … we ask him about his childhood. Quite often childhood issues carry through into adulthood. Let’s go all Freudian on his arse. We could poke around in his early memories. Give his Id a good tap. It will really get things going!” replied Jacqui.

  “Hmmmm, Freud you say ... I already have the bottle top glasses and a fake white mo with matching beard. All I need is the cigar … do you think Liam would lend me one?” pondered Dylan. “I would leave the plastic on it!”

  “NO DYLAN, NO PROPS.”

  “Okay, little Miss Party Pooper,” he sighed.

  “Meet you back here tomorrow. I will text you both when Leo returns.”

  “Crash the night at my house Jacs? I am too wired to walk home by myself.”

  “If you insist, my big brave ratty.” She stretched and yawned lazily.

  Dylan turned and whispered cheekily to Anna, “Soz about before … and sweet dreams.”