Hope

PROLOGUE

“Are you going to play or what?” James asked, impatiently holding the cards in front of him and looking at the crib board.

“Hang on, I’m thinking, I’m bloody thinking.” Harold replied, looking up at the mud walls that surrounded them.

“Our ancient headmaster would play faster and better than you!” James chuckled.

“Calm down! I don’t want to lose.”

A shell flew overhead, it whistled as it flew. “Hmm. Sounds close.” James said, looking up at the roof.

That would be his last words.

An explosion ripped a wall of the room away; sending pieces of the shell and splinters of wood over Harold as the explosion pushed him to the ground and they whistled past him. He felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder, as a piece of shrapnel hit him. Harold crawled over to James, as more shells were falling. “James?! James?!” he shouted over the sound of the shells.

James was lying on his chair which had fallen over. “James?” Harold asked, moving James’ limp body over so that he could see James’ face. As he did, he stepped back in horror. A piece of wood had been impaled into James’ eye socket, and that he was dead.

James, his best friend, who he had spent most of his life with, and was like a brother, was dead.

CHAPTER 1

Harold woke up in a cold sweat, screaming and holding onto his sheets for dear life. He got up, fixing his hair, and checking the time. “5:16. I didn’t need to sleep,” he muttered, pulling on his army dress pants and his army dress shirt. He turned on the desk light and sat down, pulling out the case files from a drawer.

Someone knocked lightly on the door. He looked up and walked over to the door, opening it and looking at Eliza, the flat owner’s worried face. She was sixty-two, but when she was worried it seemed to add ten years to her face. Behind her was the family that lived beside him. She whispered, “Are you okay? We saw the light was on and we heard screaming and we thought...”

“Fine. Just reading the files for my case.” He replied calmly.

She nodded slowly, but looked past him to his bed. “Those sheets look like they were thrown. Did you sleep well?”

He tapped his foot while he was nodding, but he didn’t seem sure of himself, “I’m fine. Good night.”

“What was the screaming about?” She questioned, looking at his eyes.

“Oh…well…I bumped into the dresser when I got up.” He answered, smiling unsurely.

“Good night then.” She replied turning and walking away, telling the family that it was just a false alarm.

He closed the door quietly and turned around, sitting down at the desk. He pulled out the page that reported the crime, with the signature of the lieutenant in the bottom corner. He read it quietly out loud, “Cpl. Jeffrey Kelley Richards, a veteran of the Battle of Vimy, refused to go over the top on October 21st, 1917. Lt. Arthur Christopher Scott, his commanding officer, called the Military Police to arrest Cpl. Richards, and he has been incarcerated in military jail; awaiting his sentence.”

He took a deep breath, and then grabbed another page. This was his court order. “Capt. Harold William Hughes, you are hereby ordered to represent Cpl. Jeffrey Richards, in his defence against the Crown, represented by Maj. Walter Jefferson King. The court is set for November 8th, 1917 at 11:00 am. The charge is desertion and cowardice in front of the enemy, in which the penalty is death. ”

He looked up at the calendar, past the slowly rising sun. “Jesus, that’s today. I look like a mess.” He walked over to the sink and peered into the mirror. His face was hardened by war, his dark brown eyes and dark brown hair had darkened his face. He was twenty-three, but he looked ten years older.

He went through his daily routine, having a shower, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, eating breakfast. He made sure that his uniform was in tip-top shape, pressed and the medals were gleaming, and that his dress boots were as shiny as the sun.

Then he passed the time by playing the piano. He had a small upright piano that he played to calm himself. He played Prelude in F Major by Bach, which was his favourite piece. Afterwards, he stepped out onto the steps into a cloudy day in London. “Beautiful day.” He muttered, peering up at the clouds. He stepped down into the street and walked right onto a large pile of dog feces.

He looked at it and sighed, looking up at the streets said, “I guess it fits, shit for the start of a shitty day.”

“Bad language.” An old nun said, glaring at him and waving her finger as she walked past.

Harold shook his head when she had past and headed for the Belgian shoemaker who doubled as a shoe shiner. As he sat down the shoemaker looked at his shoes, “Did you step in mud?”

Harold laughed and shook his head. He motioned for the shoemaker to come closer, and when he did he whispered, “No, its dog crap.”

The shoemaker laughed and sprayed water on a cloth, wiping it away, and then polishing the shoes. He was still laughing as he punched in the price to the small cash register and handed the change to Harold.

CHAPTER 2

Harold pushed the large oak doors of the courthouse open and stepped inside, holding the door open for a grim faced major who ignored Harold’s salute. He walked to the Corporal’s desk, where the Corporal sat with his feet up on the desk, and was thumbing through a newspaper. “Excuse me.” Harold said, placing his hands on the desk.

The Corporal continued reading the newspaper, but asked, not even looking up, “Yes?”

Harold decided not to tell him that he was a superior rank, and pulled out his court order from his briefcase, setting on the desk. “I’m Harold W. Hughes. Which court am I to report to?”

The Corporal sighed, upset that he was being interrupted from his reading. He pointed at a sign lazily, saying, “Your name will be there.”

Harold picked up the order and put it back in his briefcase, checking the sign and walking to the courtroom. “Harold!” A Major said loudly, his voice echoing through the halls.

“Hello Walter.” Harold said quietly as Walter stepped into pace with him.

“How the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Walter asked, looking at Harold.

“Fine.” He answered, checking the court room numbers.

Harold never really liked Walter, he had always seemed annoying, and the fact that he barely fought on the frontlines before being pulled off the line made Harold even angrier at him.

“It’s that one.” Walter said, pointing at a chalkboard that was propped up and said, ‘Courthouse 3’.

Harold nodded and opened the door for Walter. “Thanks. Say, when are you getting promoted?” Walter asked over his shoulder as he stepped inside the courtroom and walked over to his desk.

“I really don’t know Walter.” Harold replied stepping inside and walking to his desk, letting the door close behind him.

“Hopefully not long, you deserve a promotion.” Walter stated, opening his briefcase and sitting down, pulling out pieces of paper and setting them neatly on the table.

Harold nodded and muttered a word of thanks, then opened his own briefcase, setting a couple pieces of paper on the table. He sat down and sighed, reading over the reports.

“Looks like we’re the only ones here.” Walter quipped, breaking the silence as his voice echoed throughout the courtroom.

“It starts in an hour or so.” Harold replied, looking at his watch then back at his papers.

“How about that Corporal? I had to order him to take his feet off the desk. Why didn’t you?” Walter asked.

Harold looked up and answered, “I didn’t really care.”

“What nationality do you think he is? Probably American! Those bastards never did have much discipline!” Walter burst out laughing at his own joke.

Harold rolled his eyes and focused on what he was going to do in order to save Cpl. Richards. Harold heard the echoing sound of military boots, and the door creaked open, and two soldiers marched in, dragging a dirty man whose hands were tied behind his back. A smug faced Captain walked in behind the man and saluted Walter, then Harold. “Which one of you is Capt. Hughes?”

Harold stood up and looked at the Captain. The Captain nodded and motioned for the soldiers to give Harold the man. “I’m Capt. Arthur Scott. I was promoted recently.” He said beaming.

“You…you were promoted unfairly!” The man shouted, raising his head to look at the Captain.

The Captain slapped the man across the face, shouting as he continued slapping the man in the face, “Shut up you imbecile!”

Harold strode over to the Captain and grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Enough!” As he looked over the man, he said, “Jesus; is this Cpl. Richards?”

The Captain nodded in silent anger, his wrist still being held. Harold looked over Jeffrey. He had a dirty beard and generally looked dirty.

Harold shook his head and let go of the Captain’s wrist. As the Captain backed away, Harold shouted, “Does he look he’s ready for a bloody court?!” Harold wiped some dirt off of Richards’ jacket and grabbed Richards’ arm, saying “Follow me.

CHAPTER 3

Jeffrey stepped out of the court’s bathroom with a shaven face and a clean face. His uniform was less dirty, but it would never be clean. He handed a bag back to Harold, saying, “Thanks.”

Harold smiled and took the bag, looking at his watch. He looked up and said, “Just in time as well. It starts in ten minutes. Are you ready Jeffrey?”

Jeffrey nodded and replied, “Please, call me Jeff. It’s faster and easier.”

Harold motioned for Jeff to follow him and made his way to the courtroom, looking over his shoulder at Jeff, saying, “Jeff, I want you to know…I want you to know that I am going to try my hardest to let you live. But it may not be enough.”

Jeff moved beside Harold and pulled something out of a pocket in his jacket. He showed it to Harold. It was a picture of a woman smiling at the camera. Jeff smiled looking at the picture and said, “This is my fiancée. If you get me out of this, I…we will be forever grateful.”

Harold sighed, shaking his head, saying, “I fear I may not be able to.” Then, smiling unsurely, said, “But I’ll try my hardest.”

They stepped into the courtroom, and Harold looked around. The two soldiers sat on one of the benches for people to watch the proceedings, and they were conversing while cleaning their weapons.

There was also the grim faced major that had ignored Harold’s salute setting his typewriter up, and a few officers sitting on benches and conversing about things, their voices and laughter echoing throughout the courtroom.

The soldiers stood up and slung the rifles over their shoulder. “We’ll take him now, sir.” One of them said, reaching out his hand for Jeff.

“No, its fine, I need to talk to him.” Harold replied, pointing to a side room in the courtroom, and walking to the side room, with Jeff following him.

Jeff sat down at the table inside the room and looked up at Harold. Harold sat down across from him and said, “Now if you want to get out of this living, you need to listen and follow what I say, understand?” He paused as Jeff nodded. “Good. Now I want you to not burst out in anger, or defend yourself. That’s my job, alright?”

Jeff nodded slowly and stood up. One of the soldiers from earlier opened the door and motioned for Harold and Jeff to follow him, saying, “It’s time, sir.”

CHAPTER 4

Harold pulled out a chair for Jeff and sat down beside him. Harold looked up and saw two major generals sitting behind the large wooden table, with a large judge’s chair separating them.

Jeff looked at the major general on the left and nodded his head at the general, saying, “That’s Major General Bartholomew Murril, he’s my division’s commander. I guess he’s going to see this to the end.”

The major sighed and stood up, clearing his throat and saying, “We are about to begin. Lt. Gen. John Smythe will be presiding these events.” At that everybody stood up as Smythe walked in from a side door and sat down at the large judge’s chair, motioning for everybody sit down.

After the noise of everybody had ceased, Smythe said, “We are gathered here today on November 8th, in the year of our Lord 1917, for the trial of Cpl. Jeffrey Richards, for the crimes against his King and his country, desertion and cowardice in front of the enemy, in which the punishment is death.”

Walter shuffled his papers into order and stood up as the Lieutenant General called him to stand up.

Walter stepped around his table and saluted the three generals. He cleared his throat then leaned against his table on the right side of the court, saying, “Cpl. Richards refused to do what he swore he would do in the oath that we all say. He is a coward, and shall be punished as a coward.”

When he finished he clicked his heels together and saluted the generals again and sat down. Then Harold stood up and saluted the generals, then stepped between the two tables and looked at the three generals. “Cpl. Richards had fought enough to be sent back to the reserve trench or even on leave. However, he was left on the frontlines to once again charge. He was not a coward, he was only exhausted.”

Harold saluted and pivoted on his heels, sitting back down. “Capt. King; please call upon your first witness.” Smythe said, leaning back in his chair.

“And please hurry this up; I want this to be over before 1:00. I have a reservation at a very fancy restaurant.” The other major general added; looking fairly bored with the proceedings.

“Yes Sir, I will try and hurry up, may Capt. Scott please come to the stand?” Walter said, walking up to the witness’ stand.

Scott walked up and sat at the witness’ stand. He was grinning as he was sworn in, and he looked at Walter in expectation.

Walter crossed his arms and looked at Scott, saying, “Now Capt. Scott, what happened on the day of November 8th? Specifically what Cpl. Richards did, or did not.”

Capt. Scott smirked and said, “Well, we were tasked with taking a German hill on the frontlines. The plains leading up to the hill were very flat, with artillery and machine gunners on the hill. We had a five minute artillery barrage before we had to go, and when I blew my whistle, everyone that was supposed to leave left, but Cpl. Richards. His whole body shook at every explosion, at every bullet shot-”

Harold stood up and said, “Sir, Cpl. Richards was merely making sure he was not injured. He was taking cover.”

Capt. Scott looked at Harold and shook his head, saying, “No, he most definitely was not. His eyes were wide with fear, with cowardice.”

Harold sat back down and Walter grinned, glad that he will probably win. “Now Capt. Scott,” Walter started, “Did you order Cpl. Richards to go over the top?”

“Of course, but he refused. And then he pushed me out of the way and began to run.” Capt. Scott replied.

“Which way did he run?” Walter asked, anticipating an answer that would aid his case.

“Well, behind us, to the reserve trenches I presume.” Capt. Scott answered.

Walter turned to look at the three generals and said, “Sirs, this is an easy trial, he was acting like a coward, and then he assaulted a superior-”

“Objection!” Harold shouted, his voice echoing throughout the courtroom. “Cpl. Richards is not on trial for assaulting a superior officer, only for desertion and cowardice!”

Murril rolled his eyes, as did the other major general. Smythe nodded and said, “Yes Capt. Hughes, we understand, and we will remember that he is only on trial for desertion and cowardice. Now please let Maj. King finish what he was saying.”

“Yes Sir.” Harold said, sitting down.

“Now as I was saying,” Walter started again, “You all heard vocal proof that Cpl. Richards was a coward, and deserted the army that we dedicate our life to.”

Walter saluted the three generals and clicked his heels together, and then he pivoted on his heel and passed Harold as he walked to his table. “Try and beat that.” Walter whispered and grinning to Harold as he passed him.

“Now Capt. Hughes, who is your first witness?” Smythe asked.

“Capt. Scott, may you please stay?” Harold asked, walking over to the witness’ stand.

“Of course I’ll stay.” Scott said, leaning back in his seat and looking at Harold.

“Excellent. Now when was the last time Cpl. Richards had leave?” Harold questioned, pacing the courtroom floor.

Scott opened a folder and pulled out a sheet, following a chart with his finger. “Well, the last time he was on leave was September, ah, 20th, 1917.” He answered, looked up from the sheet.

“So the last time he had a peaceful rest was September 20th; a full 49 days since his last leave. That’s too much for any man to handle.”

The other major general, which Harold had nicknamed ‘Porky’ in his head, scoffed at what Harold said, and replied, “I certainly could. If he really isa man and a soldier, then he most definitely would stay and do his duty.”

Harold turned his head to look at Porky and said, “With all due respect Sir, no man or soldier could handle that long in a muddy trench with no rest behind lines.”

Porky opened his mouth in anger, but Smythe whispered something in his ear, and Porky grinned and said, “Go on Captain.”

Harold nodded and turned back to Scott, and asked, “How much fighting did you chaps do in those 49 days?”

Scott leaned back in his chair and responded, “Well, those Germans shelled us every day. We didn’t get to shoot any; they just pounded us with shells, never actually sending any men in range.”

“And how many men did you have when you attacked? Was it enough men to take the hill?” Harold questioned.

“We did not have a full force.” Scott answered, “However with the five minute artillery barrage we should have blasted those bastards to kingdom-come.”

“And did you take the hill?” Harold asked, stopping his pacing and looking at Scott.

“Well…no. We were forced to retreat-” Scott began to answer.

“Objection!” Walter interrupted, standing up. “What does this have to do with this trial?”

“Yes Lieutenant, what does this have to do with the trial?” Porky asked, waving his hands dramatically.

Harold paused. “Sir, I’m merely proving that even with Cpl. Richards and Capt. Scott, the charge still would have failed.”

Walter shook his head and looked at Harold, saying, “Lt. Hughes, that was completely impractical to mention. It doesn’t matter whether or not they would have failed in taking the hill, Cpl. Richards still ran away, like a coward.”

“Capt. King is correct.” Smythe said, glancing at Walter and then at Harold, “Maj. Ackerman, please stroke out what Capt. Hughes said.”

Ackerman sighed and pulled out the sheet from the typewriter, taking a pen from his jacket and stroking out what Harold had said, muttering, “Yes Sir.”

Porky chuckled and looked at Ackerman, saying in a joking voice, “Maj. Ackerman, if you ever want to be Gen. Ackerman, you must first climb the ladder to get the rank. And doing that will be a hard task to do; but it has it’s…rewards.”

Ackerman sighed and said nodding, “Yes Sir…I’ll do my best.” Before putting the sheet back in the typewriter and preparing for someone to speak.

Smythe changed his glance from Ackerman to Harold, as he asked, “Any more questions for Capt. Scott; Captain?”

Harold nodded, answering, “Yes Sir.”

Smythe leaned back in his chair. “Ask away then Captain.” He said. “Ask away.”

Harold turned to face Scott and asked, “Capt. Scott, what is your definition of a coward?”

“You want me to define coward?! What do I look like, a walking dictionary?!” Scott countered, waving his hands as he spoke.

Harold grinned, replying, “Just off the top of your head Captain. Amuse this court in your definition.”

Scott raised his looked at Walter with his eyebrow raised. Walter looked at Scott saying, “Just define it.”

“Yes Captain, please hurry this up. Some of us have places to go, more important things to do.” Porky added, patting his stomach.

“Very well.” Scott said, pausing. “A coward, in this case is someone who lacks the courage to do…unpleasant things, such as fight.”

Harold nodded and smiled, beginning his pacing again. “Now if that is your definition of coward, how is Cpl. Richards a coward? He is a veteran of many battles.”

Walter stood up. “Capt. Hughes, I do believe that this trial is about Cpl. Richards’ current cowardice. Not his past bravery.”

Porky and Smythe nodded, with Smythe adding, “Maj. King is correct in what he says.”

Murril didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his chin, deep in thought, staring at Harold.

Porky looked over at Murril, asking, “Anything you want to add Bart?”

Murril shook his head, saying, “No, not at all.” As he spoke he continued to look at Harold.

Porky looked at Murril with a confused look on his face. “You look like you’re writing a symphony in your head. Are you sure?”

Murril turned to Porky and said, his face turning red with anger, “I insist Malac! I am fine, damn it!” Then, with his voice rising in anger, “Capt. Hughes! Are you finished with your questions?!”

“Yes Sir!” Harold replied in a military tone.

“Then sit down Captain!” Murril ordered, pointing a finger at Harold’s chair. Then, turning to Walter, commanded, “Maj. King! Call upon your second witness!”

Smythe stood up in shock, saying, “Bartholomew Murril! Maj. King and Capt. Hughes are not on trial here, nor are we on the battlefield! I suggest a fifteen minute recess for everyone to calm down.

“I second that.” Porky said, getting up from his chair.

CHAPTER 5

Harold and Jeff had stayed while everyone but a few officers milling around were left in the courtroom. “This isn’t going so well.” Harold sighed, leaning back in his sit and crossing his arms.

“Why are you tapping your feet so fast?” Jeff asked; looking at Harold’s feet.

Harold looked at Jeff with a puzzled look on his face, “What do you mean?” He countered, crossing his arms.

Jeff pointed at Harold’s feet. They were tapping rapidly. “I’m just…keeping the beat to a song?” Harold replied, smiling unsurely.

Jeff grinned, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, saying, “That must be one hell of a beat Harry; your feet are like a rabbit that’s caught in a trap. I’ve never heard of a song like that.”

Harold smiled and shook his head. Just then, the Corporal from the front walked up and set a letter on Harold’s desk.

Harold looked up at the Corporal. “What’s this?” He enquired.

“It’s a letter for you.” The Corporal answered, turning around and walking out of the courtroom.

Jeff opened his eyes and sat straight. “Open it. Let’s see what it is.” He said with curiosity.

Harold ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was stamped by the Canadian Government. Harold cleared his throat and read aloud, “Capt. Harold William Hughes, by order of the Canadian Corps, you are hereby ordered to report to Brig. Matthew Finn for further orders.”

Jeff took the envelope and shook it up side down. “I had the feeling that…yes, I knew it.” He said as two tickets fell out.

Harold took the first ticket and read it. “It’s a train going to the port.” He said.

Jeff raised an eyebrow, saying, “Leaving England?”

Harold shrugged and said, “I guess.”

Harold took the second ticket and read it, saying, “It’s a troop ship heading to…” He paused. “It’s heading to France.

“France?” Jeff said, “I guess you’re seeing some action again.”

Harold sighed and sat defeated, saying “Damn it. I thought I was done with the damn frontlines. I guess I’m not as good a lawyer as I thought.”

Jeff grinned at Harold’s joke as Harold sat there with a blank expression.

And then Harold’s foot began tapping.

CHAPTER 6

“After that short break the court is back in session. Maj. King, please call your second witness.” Smythe said, looking cautiously over at Murril.

“I’m fine.” Murril said, holding up his hand.

Walter stood up, saying, “Cpl. Richards, please come up.”

After Jeff was sworn in, Walter walked up to him and asked, “Do you believe you are a coward?”

“No, I do not believe that I am a coward.” Jeff replied.

“Do you really believe you aren’t a coward? Even though most of this court believes that you are, in fact, a coward?” Walter persisted.

“I believe that I am not a coward.” Jeff replied again, hiding his anger.

Walter grinned, saying, “Perhaps you would like to elaborate on why you are not a coward?”

“If I am to understand what your definition of coward is, then I am not a coward. A coward would have fled at the first sight of action.” Jeff said, leaning forward in his seat, getting closer to Walter.

Walter stepped back, saying, “My, your breath is like a pig’s.” The courtroom erupted into laughter. As it died down, Walter said, “Now Cpl. Richards, if that is true, then you are a coward, as you did in fact, run away.”

Walter grinned and stepped back, looking at Smythe, saying, “That’s all the questions I have for him, Sir.”

As Walter sat down at his desk, still grinning, Harold got up from his seat and walked to Jeff, who had leaned back in his seat.

“Cpl. Richards, would you say that you are a veteran of a great many battles?” Harold questioned, putting his hands behind his back.

“I would.” Jeff answered, staring past Harold.

Harold’s foot began tapping. “And would you say that you had the chance to run away many times?”

Jeff nodded, still not focusing on Harold.

“Sirs, the ratio of how many times Cpl. Richards stood and stared at death’s eye compared to the one time he ran away, is a very large ratio.” Harold said, looking up at the generals.

Walter stood up, saying, “May I remind Capt. Hughes once again that this about Cpl. Richards current cowardice, not his past bravery.”

“And once again, Maj. King is correct. I believe that is all the questions you can ask Captain?” Porky said grinning.

“Please wait Sir, I still have questions.” Harold said, holding up his hand.

“Very well, Captain, continue.” Smythe said, as Porky rested his head on his hand.

“Cpl. Richards, in all honesty, whose fault do you think it is for the failure to capture the hill?” Harold asked, pacing the floor.

“I…” Jeff stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is it the army’s fault?” Harold questioned, leaning closer to Jeff.

Porky chuckled, saying, “Surely you can’t be serious; are you implying that it’s the army’s fault? The army we, including you, have dedicated our lives to?”

“No Sir, I am not implying any of that sort. I am only examining all possible reasons.”

Porky shrugged, and then looking at Murril asked, “What do you think?”

“I think that if we had another chance at attacking those bastards, we would have taken the hill.” Murril answered crossing his arms.

“Understandable.” Porky said, then, turning to Harold asked, “Do you have more questions? Or may we get to the closing arguments?”

Harold rubbed his chin, answering. “I believe I am finished with my questioning, Sir.”

Smythe nodded slowly, then asked, “Maj. King, may you please come up for your closing argument?”

Walter nodded and stood up, pulling a sheet of paper from his pile. “Sirs, this is an easy decision. Cpl. Richards, like a coward, ran away from the task at hand and betrayed what we hold close to our hearts.” He pointed at Jeff. “Make an example out of this coward!”

He saluted the generals and turned on his heel, walking to his desk with a smile on his face.

“Capt. Hughes, please come up for your closing argument.” Smythe said.

Harold remained sitting and put his hand up, saying, “Please, may I have a few minutes, Sir?”

Smythe looked at Porky and looked at him with a questioning look on his face. Porky shrugged then nodded to Murril. Smythe looked at Murril and asked, “What do you think?”

Murril scratched his chin and looked up at Smythe, answering, “I think we should let him have a few minutes.”

“Very well. Capt. Hughes, you have five minutes.” Smythe said, standing up and leaving the room with the rest of the people, leaving Harold and Jeff alone.

CHAPTER 7

Harold and Jeff sat in silence. Harold’s foot was tapping and Jeff was touching his head rapidly. Harold cleared his throat and Jeff nodded.

“I don’t know what to say, Jeff.” Harold said, shaking his head in shame.

Jeff put his hand of Harold’s shoulder, saying, “You’ll think of something, you’re smart enough.”

Harold continued to shake his head, mumbling, “I just don’t think I can. They’ve already made up their decision to have you executed.”

Jeff patted the picture of his fiancée that was in his chest pocket, saying, “If they do decide that, and I am executed…” He paused. Then, after licking his lips he continued, “If I am executed, then Anna, my fiancée, won’t be able to keep the house. She has no one to go to, can you please let her live with you while she looks for a home?”

Harold nodded slowly and answered, “I have a flat here in London, but it only has one bed. But since I’ll be in France, she can stay there.”

Jeff smiled and asked, “But you’re Canadian, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am. I do have a home in Ottawa, but wouldn’t she wouldn’t she want to stay in England?” Harold asked.

Jeff shook his head, saying, “She’s an adventurer, always wanting to see new things. I think she’s had enough of staying in England.”

Harold crossed his arms and nodded, replying, “I’ll look after her until she finds a home and a job to pay for that home.”

Jeff grinned happily and said, “Thanks Harold.”

The back doors opened and Smythe led the officers that were streaming in from the back doors.

“Capt. Hughes.” Smythe said. “I believe you have a closing argument to say.”

CHAPTER 8

Harold didn’t take any pieces of paper with him as he stood up and stood in front of his desk. “Please begin.” Smythe said.

“Sirs, if you sentence this man to execution then it will be a severe failure to understand what really happened on that day that Cpl. Richards ran away.” Harold paused and sat on his desk.

Harold sighed and looked up at the generals. “Sirs, I know that I can’t convince you. You’ve already made up your decision that Cpl. Richards is a coward and will be punished as one. However…you Sirs are wrong.”

Porky chuckled and shook his head at Harold, asking, “If we are truly incorrect, please Captain, explain what the definition is.”

“Sirs, a coward is someone who would run away at the first sight of battle. Cpl. Richards is not a coward, as he fought numerous times and endured many shells. Perhaps he only has shell shock.”

Porky scoffed and said, “Capt. Hughes, we already know that shell shock is just an excuse to get of the lines for an extended period of time.”

Harold sighed and said, “Sirs, if you sentence Cpl. Jeffrey Richards to death, then his death will indeed haunt you for the rest of your life.”

Smythe nodded and said, “If that’s it, we will leave to decide Cpl. Richards’ fate.”

CHAPTER 9

The chatter of the officers’ voices echoed throughout the courtroom as Harold sat back down at the table, his foot tapping. Jeff sat in silence, making fists with his hands.

Jeff cleared his throat and said, “That was one hell of a closing argument, Harold.”

Harold looked up from his feet and nodded, saying, “I hope it’s enough to convince them.”

Walter stood up and walked over to Harold, holding out his and held out his hand exclaiming, “That was a fantastic speech Harold! I especially liked the part where if they sentence him to death, then it’ll haunt them.”

Harold ignored Walter’s hand and muttered, “Thanks, Walter.”

Walter put his hands in pockets and nodded slowly, walking back to his table.

Harold tapped his fingers on the desk like he was on the piano and sighed, clenching his fists in an attempt to stop his feet from tapping. “Just relax.” Harold told himself, taking a deep breath.

Jeff laid back in his seat and sighed, muttering, “What’s taking them so long?”

Harold shrugged and shook his head, replying, “Maybe I did convince them. But I don’t think I convinced all of them.”

Jeff patted Harold on the back, saying, “You did your best Harry, That’s all I could have asked for you to do.”

The door from the side room opened and Smythe came out first, followed by Murril and then Porky. All of their faces were red. “They look pissed.” Jeff whispered to Harold.

Harold nodded and grinned, saying, “They must have argued till they were blue in the face. Or, red in their face.”

Jeff laughed and leaned forward.

Smythe walked over to Maj. Ackerman and whispered in his ear. Ackerman nodded and stood up as the generals sat down. “After careful considerations, the generals, under unanimous decision, have found Cpl. Jeffery Richards guilty of his charges of desertion and cowardice in front of the enemy, and will be executed on November 11th, 1917. The exact time is yet to be decided.”

Jeff put his head in his hands and started to cry. “Hold back your tears. They may take your life away, but they can’t take your hope away. ” Harold whispered, holding back tears himself.

Jeff nodded and rubbed his eyes, holding back tears as the two soldiers harshly grabbed Jeff and forced him to stand up.

Jeff waved his arms as they were being held, and blurted out, “Harold! Remember your promise! Look after her!”

In the commotion Harold saw something flutter out of Jeff’s pocket. He grabbed it and looked up to tell Jeff when the doors opened and closed, and Jeff was gone.

CHAPTER 10

Harold looked at the picture of Jeff’s fiancée and flipped it around to the back of the picture. ‘Good luck!’ was written in cursive writing with ‘Anna’ as the signature.

Harold felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around. It was Anna from the picture. “What were you promising to Jeff?” She asked.

“I promised him to look after you, Anna.” Harold replied. Anna hid her expression and kept a straight face.

Anna nodded and started tearing up and smiling, saying, “That’s Jeff alright. He always looked after other people before himself.”

Harold held out his arm, saying, “I’ll show you the place you’ll be staying. Do you have any luggage?”

Anna nodded and took his arm, answering, “We live on the outskirts of London. I can get them sometime.”

Harold walked out of the courthouse with Anna. The weather had changed and now was sunny. Harold looked at Anna. “You’re holding up pretty well.” Harold said.

Anna smiled and replied, “Jeff always said that I could hide my emotions well.”

Harold swallowed and walked in silence to the flat, then unlocked the door and opened and held the door open for Anna.

“Thank you.” Anna said, walking inside.

CHAPTER 11

It was a sunny day, but it was turning cloudy. Harold and Anna walked together, slowly towards the field near an army camp where a few officers were standing behind a rope. In the area cut off by the rope there was a single pole driven into the ground.

Harold and Anna made their way behind the rope and stood still. “And now we wait.” Harold muttered.

They didn’t have wait much longer. Jeff staggered out of the mess hall with two soldiers who were holding his arms and walking him to the pole.

Anna’s expression hardened and she moved closer to Harold. “If you don’t want to look, just shut your eyes.” Harold whispered to Anna.

Anna moved away from Harold and rushed over to the rope as Jeff stopped and turned to her. “Anna!” Jeff exclaimed. Then, turning to the soldiers said, “Please, my I say my goodbyes?”

The superior soldier nodded and let go off Jeff. Jeff ran over to Anna and hugged and kissed her. Then, still embracing Anna, he turned to Harold and said, “I still have hope.”

He let go of Anna and Harold moved closer to her. The soldier next to Jeff grabbed him and they walked the rest of the way to the pole. Jeff’s hands started shaking as they tried to tie his hands behind the pole. “Keep your hands still!” One of the soldiers shouted, slapping Jeff in the face.

Jeff’s hand shaking stopped and the soldiers tied his hands behind the pole but then his hands began shaking again. A priest walked up to the pole, mumbled a few words and then turned and left.

Eight soldiers with rifles and an officer marched single-file in front of Jeff. The officer marched up to Jeff, saying, “Cpl. Jeffrey Richards, you have been sentenced to execution by a panel of superior officers. Do you have any last words?”

It began raining as Jeff looked up, the rain flying into his eyes. He looked at Harold and smiled, saying, “Hope.”

The officer pulled out a blindfold and blindfolded Jeff. Then he marched over to the soldiers and stood beside them. Harold looked at the soldiers. They were either young soldiers that were still training or old soldiers that they wouldn’t serve on the frontlines.

“Load!” The officer ordered. The soldiers swung their rifles in front of them and loaded a single bullet.

“Take aim!” The officer ordered. Half of the soldiers kneeled in front of the other half and took aim at Jeff.

Harold’s leg began to shake and Anna moved closed into Harold’s arm.

“Fire!” The officer shouted. Anna flinched as the soldiers fired. Jeff’s body fell forward limply, his body stopped from falling by his hands that were tied together.

Harold’s leg stopped shaking as Anna let go of his jacket and moved backwards.

“I…I need some time alone.” Anna said, wiping rain from her face.

Harold nodded, saying, “Take your time.”

CHAPTER 12

“You know where everything is?” Harold asked, swinging his bag over his arm.

Anna nodded and smiled, answering, “Of course I do, Harry.”

“Alright. Well I guess this is goodbye.” Harold said, turning to leave.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Anna asked, holding something behind her back.

Harold shrugged, asking, “What am I forgetting?”

Anna held up the picture of herself and handed it to him. Harold took it and put it in his breast pocket, saying, “Well, now I have everything to fight Fritz.”

Anna hugged him, saying, “Good luck.”

Harold turned and closed the door slowly, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll need it!”

Harold walked out of his door and was met by Eliza and the family. “Good luck Harold, we’ll pray for you.” Eliza said, hugging Harold.

Harold hugged the family then left, waving his hand as he left.

Harold made his way to the train station where many families were gathered to say goodbye. Harold showed his ticket and walked onto the train.

CHAPTER 13

“Say goodbye to England, boys.” Harold said to the soldiers around him, leaning on a ledge and looking out at England as the ship went away from it.

A Sergeant near Harold nodded and took a long drag from his cigarette, saying, “Aye. This is my third time saying goodbye.”

Harold nodded and looked down, replying, “It’s my second time saying goodbye.”

The Sergeant smiled and made his way over to Harold, saying, “To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be returning to France.”

Harold scratched his head and replied, “Same with me. I guess they’re trying to get everybody back in.”

The Sergeant laughed, saying, “I guess so. Though I doubt I’ll be getting much action. I’ll probably just be sitting behind a desk.”

“I think I may be seeing some action.” Harold said.

The Sergeant looked at Harold and nodded, replying, “I think so, you seem fit for duty.”

Harold looked back at England. It was only a small speck on the horizon. “There it goes.” The Sergeant muttered, flicking his cigarette into the ocean and leaving Harold to go inside.

Harold stood there for a few minutes, before going inside to get away from the cold.

CHAPTER 14

Harold got off of the boat and lit a cigarette. He was looking around when he saw a Major in front of a car holding a sign with Harold’s name on it.

Harold walked over to the Major and saluting him, said, “Hello Major, I’m Capt. Hughes.”

The Major set the sign down and returned the salute, replying, “Great, I’m Maj. Dwight Thompson. Brig. Finn’s aide, and as you know, he’s requested you. Shall we go?”

Harold nodded and got in the car, tossing his bag in the backseat.

As they drove Dwight glanced at Harold occasionally, then said, “The Brigadier says that you’ll be back home in no time.”

Harold scoffed replying, “In a coffin.”

Dwight chuckled, saying, “That’s no way to be. The Brigadier says that you’ll only need to capture the hill and then you’ll be back home.”

Harold took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Which hill?” Harold asked.

“Oh, the hill that General from that trial you were the defendant’s lawyer in failed to take.” Dwight answered matter-of-factly.

Harold threw the cigarette out the window. “That hill.” He said in disgust.

“Yes, that hill.” Dwight replied. “Though they have learnt from their two previous failures.”

Harold shook his head. “Two? What have they done that’s different?” Harold questioned.

“Many things.” Dwight answered. “They’ve brought in miners. They’ve dug under the hill and have laid mines. At the last word I’ve heard, they’re done and waiting for the word.” Dwight paused and focused on the road. “They’ve also brought in more artillery and more men.”

“Great, more pigs to the slaughter.” Harold muttered, looking at the devastated countryside.

Dwight shook his head, exclaiming, “You haven’t seen it. We’re ready. Now all we need is a confident leader who will lead the troops to victory!”

Harold laughed and shook his head, asking, “Why me?”

“You were Cpl. Richards’ lawyer. You heard eyewitness accounts of the Brits’ failure to capture the hill, so you seemed like the best candidate.” Dwight answered.

Harold shook his head and looked out the window. They were driving into a town that had been mostly reduced to rubble by shells. Their car pulled up to a town hall that was mostly intact. “Here’s HQ.” Dwight said, turning the car off and getting out.

CHAPTER 15

“Capt. Hughes, thank you for coming to France for one last attack.” Finn said, shaking Harold’s hand.

“Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice. I’m at a lower rank than you, Sir.” Harold said laughing.

Finn shook his head and replied, “Just call me Finn. Anyway, I want you to be at the frontlines by this evening, so shall we begin?”

Harold nodded and followed Finn as he moved behind his desk. “Now Dwight told me that he told you about the mines, and more artillery and men. Is that it?” Finn asked.

“Yes.” Harold answered, looking at the desk where pictures of the hill were laid on top.

Finn pointed to a few pictures of trenches, saying, “Reconnaissance has found that there are no trenches at the base of the hill, however, fortified trenches were built into the hill. Fritz uses this hill as an observation post, as well as a stronghold. If we capture this hill, then it’ll be smooth sailing until the Belgium border.”

Harold nodded, saying, “Please, continue.”

Finn pointed to a picture of artillery pieces, “Fritz has eight sFH 13s, six field guns and five Minenwerfers for us to worry about. Further reconnaissance has shown that Fritz has more sFHs behind the frontlines, capable of shelling the hill.”

“So how do we get rid of them?” Harold asked, rubbing his chin.

“Well, our engineers are certain that when the mines are detonated, part of the hill will collapse, which will hopefully get rid of some of Fritz’s artillery and men.” Finn replied.

“Anything more I need to know?” Harold asked.

“Well, you will detonate the mines tomorrow morning, and when you do, you will signal to our artillery to fire on the hill for five minutes straight, When the five minutes are up, you attack.” Finn answered.

“And what about the artillery behind the frontlines?” Harold questioned.

“We will have a squadron of bombers bombarding them, which will destroy them, allowing you easy access to the hill.” Finn replied.

“One more question, where’s their normal captain?” Harold asked.

Finn looked down at the ground and answered, “The Captain died from an artillery strike.”

Harold nodded and said, “That’s all I need to know. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 16

The car bounced around on the road. “They really don’t repair these, do they?” Harold laughed.

Dwight shook his head laughing, replying, “No, we’re focused more on winning the war than repairing roads.”

Harold looked at the devastated landscape, asking, “How much further do we have to go to get to the frontlines?”

“Not much further.” Dwight replied, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Of course, you’re not driving to the trenches are you?” Harold asked.

Dwight shook his head and chuckled, answering, “Of course not, but I can drive as far as the artillery post that will be aiding your attack. Then it’s about half a kilometre to the front.”

“You said that you’ve been there?” Harold asked.

Dwight nodded and answered, “Yes, the Brigadier was sent to inspect the frontlines, and since I was the aide, I had to go.”

“Pictures just can’t describe how bad it is up there.” Harold said.

Dwight nodded, replying, “The pictures can’t show the smell, or the depressing energy that just lays on your skin.

Harold nodded and pulled out the picture of Anna from his pocket and looked at it. Dwight looked at the picture then back at the road, saying, “Your girl?”

Harold shook his head and flipped it over to the other side and replied, “It was Jeff’s.”

“Who?” Dwight asked.

“Cpl. Richards. He was the one I was defending. I promised that I’d look after her until she could find a job and a place to work.” Harold answered, looking down at his boots.

Dwight playfully elbowed Harold in the ribs, saying, “Anything between you and the girl?”

Harold shrugged, replying, “Maybe.”

Dwight had begun to talk about how he met a lass from France that he fell in love with and how it didn’t turn out, but Harold wasn’t listening. He was looking at the new words underneath ‘Anna’, that said in her writing, ‘HOPE’.

CHAPTER 17

Harold walked into the frontline trench and returned a few salutes. A Lieutenant stood up and walked over to Harold. “You must be Capt. Hughes. I’m Lt. James Irwin, and I’ll be your aide for your, hopefully, short stay.”

Harold nodded and looked at the soldiers and paused. They were staring at him, some with relief, some with anger, and some just stared at him with no expression.

Harold looked back at James and said, “I understand that there’s an Australian Captain. May I see him?”

James nodded and motioned for Harold to follow him as he walked in the maze of trenches. Harold heard a whistling sound and looked at James, shouting, “Incoming!”

Harold and James dove for cover as the ground shook with an explosion. The ground shook with every explosion as dirt and pieces of wood fell on Harold and James. After a few minutes, the shelling stopped and Harold and James got up. James sighed, muttering, “That’s the usual fireworks display.”

Harold watched as a few soldiers ran to rebuild the trenches, saying, “I guess that’s what we get for being in the P.B.I.”

James chuckled and said, “Once again, follow me.”

Harold followed James to a doorway where a piece of cloth was hanging to block the doorway. James pushed the cloth away and walked inside, saying, “Capt. Davidson, it’s Capt. Hughes.”

Davidson got up from the Crown and Anchor game he was playing and shook Harold’s hand, exclaiming, “’Bout bloody time! When are we getting at Fritz?”

Harold grinned and replied, “Tomorrow morning at exactly 0500.”

Davidson grinned and looked at the soldiers that had been playing, and said, “Ye hear that boys? We’re takin’ on Fritz tomorrow morning at 0500! Spread the word!” At that, the soldiers stood up and took the money that they had and left with James to tell their fellow soldiers.

“Are we completely prepared?” Harold asked, taking a seat by Davidson, who was sitting and had his feet up on his desk.

Davidson nodded and replied, “As prepared as we’ll eva’ be. You’ll need a place to lay your head won’t ya?” Harold nodded and Davidson continued. “There’s a spare bed here where the Captain, God bless his soul, used ta sleep. You can sleep there.”

“That’ll be fine.” Harold said, walking over to the bed and setting his bag below the bed and sitting on the bed.

Davidson yawned and said, “Whenever us Aussies and you Canadians get together, we can only do well.”

Harold nodded and got off the bed, then pulled the sheets off and got in. “Everyone’s gotten their rum ration, I guess I’ll go to bed too.”

CHAPTER 18

Davidson read the names of the first wave, then the second wave, and then the third wave, then told them to wait for three short whistle blows. Harold stood by the telephone receiver and said to the artillery sergeant, “On my mark, you fire for five minutes.”

“Understood.” The sergeant replied.

Harold held the receiver up to his chest and looked at the engineer who held the detonator for the mines. Harold held up his hand, then when the time was right, dropped his hand. The engineer pushed down on the detonator and Harold watched through binoculars as an explosion ripped a hole in the hill, and dirt came crashing down to fill the hole.

Harold held the receiver up to his mouth and shouted, “Fire!” then handed the receiver to another engineer.

Harold watched as explosions pulverised the hill. He looked at his watch to see how much longer the artillery would last, then said, “First wave! Line up!”

The first wave ducked over the rope that separated the ladders from the trench, and stood at the ladders and waited.

Harold’s foot began tapping as Harold watched the time tick to 0500. He held the whistle up to his mouth and blew it quickly three times as the shells stopped falling, and airplanes flew overhead.

Davidson, who was leading the first wave shouted, “C’mon boys! Let’s go get Fritz!”

The first wave walked until they were a quarter of the way to the hill. When they reached the first quarter, their pace quickened to a speed walk. “Second wave! Let’s line up!” Harold shouted.

The second wave ducked under the rope and climbed the first step, peeking over the top of the trench. Harold watched as the first wave reached halfway, then began jogging. Harold blew his whistle quickly three times and climbed the ladder.

CHAPTER 19

“Let’s go second wave! Let’s go!” Harold shouted as they reached a quarter of the way and began to speed walk. Harold looked ahead and saw that most of the first wave had taken cover behind a destroyed farmhouse, and were pinned down by mortar and bullets. “Keep on moving first wave!” Harold shouted.

The second wave had reached halfway, and had begun to jog, but the first wave was still pinned down only a quarter from the base of the hill. “Let’s get to cover!” Harold ordered, jogging to the wall that Davidson was crouched behind.

“Davidson! I thought I told you not to stop, damn it!” Harold shouted, crouching behind the wall and looking at Davidson.

“We encountered heavy resistance! We could not and can not move forward!” Davidson shouted back.

Harold pointed at the third wave. “They’re almost halfway! Let’s go together!” Harold exclaimed.

Davidson pointed at Harold’s whistle. “You’re the one with the whistle!” Davidson shouted over the sound of gunfire.

Harold blew his whistle three quick times and ran forward. Davidson ran beside him and ordered, “Charge!”

The first and second wave charged together up the hill, encountering a hail of bullets. Harold jumped into the trench beside a machine gun post and shot the gunners. The men that were left jumped into the trench and began fighting in hand-to-hand combat.

The combined first and second wave was too much for the Germans to handle, and eventually they were able to move forward. A potato masher was thrown in Harold’s direction and he leapt for cover. The explosion dazed him and he fell to the ground.

His ears were ringing and his vision was blurry. It had just occurred to him that since the run up the hill, he hadn’t seen Davidson. He was looking around for Davidson when the third wave jumped into the trench. Suddenly, he felt hands shaking him. His ear stopped ringing and he heard a voice say, “Captain? Are you alright?”

Harold nodded and stood up. Over the sound of gunfire, he heard cheering. “We’ve captured the hill!” The voices cheered further up the hill.

Harold picked up his pistol that he had dropped, and moved forward, exclaiming, “Let’s go!”

CHAPTER 20

“We did it!” Davidson exclaimed, hoisting up a German officer’s helmet.

The soldiers cheered as prisoners were being roughly rounded up. Harold shook Davidson’s hand, exclaiming, “We did one hell of a job!”

Davidson grinned and stepped back to admire the artillery that was captured, when a German stepped out of the trench and shot Davidson in the neck. Harold turned and pulled out his pistol, shooting the German in the heart.

Harold put the pistol back in it’s holster and ran to Davidson who was lying on the ground, with blood pouring out of his neck. Harold tried to stop the bleeding with his hands, but it kept on coming out. Davidson held his hand up and Harold stopped.

Davidson died in Harold’s arms, as his life poured out of his neck. There was nothing anybody could have done.

After that, there was no cheering, only silence.

EPILOGUE

Harold stepped out of the train, expecting to see no one waiting for him. He looked at the left and sighed, then when he looked to the right he heard Anna shout, “Harry! Over here!”

Harold smiled and made he way through the crowd to her. He hugged her and when he lifted her up, she whispered in his ear, “Hope.”