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But it was 1918, and this was all happening right on the battlefield. So I’ve learned to forgive these poor fellows, who never could’ve saved me even if they had known I still had a heartbeat.He was left there, in the unnatural stillness of no man’s land but for the buzzing of insects. Even wind dare not touch the sickly green/grey air, still smelling of the toxic gas of the last chemical attack. The flattened, dead space had only one visitor that day - a reaper.Somewhere far from there, in an in-between place, clear of the smell and darkness of the battlefield, the Reaper offered the dead man a proposition. It was no more than a soft hum within him, but he understood every word and quickly accepted. As they all do when given the chance of eternal life while inching closer to the jaws of death.And just like that, he was once again returned to the blood soaked ground beneath him, his body flooded with a horrendous pain, making him cry out from the joy of it.As days turned into weeks. Wilkes excused himself to look after his patients, and Lucy wanted to sleep a little in her chamber. Sir Pierce and his wife repaired to their own cabin, whilst Tony sat down at his desk to look over some reports.Harriet sat on a chair by an open window, enjoying the fresh Atlantic air. She pretended to read, but in truth, she watched her husband. Tony was reading the reports and making short notes on the margins. He then called for his secretary, and with an apologetic look at Harriet, he dictated several reports and answers to reports.She saw his look of despair at the sheer amount of paper work, and she had to smile. She knew from her father that there was a huge difference between being the captain of a frigate and the captain of a line-of-the-battle ship, not the least difference being the amount of paper work involved, and she sympathised with her husband, knowing that for an active young man like him, dictating letters to a dull secretary was punishment. When he had finally.
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