Chapter 18. The fall of Achilles
1916 The Somme. France
The cold squalling rain had finally stopped. With the heavy cloud
cover, dawn appeared to be hours late breaking over the battlefield.
A red cross dog walked over a tangle of bodies and sniffed at a
soldier lying still and caked in mud.
It pawed at his shoulder and nuzzled his neck. When it picked up the
soldier's helmet to return to the lines for help, Ithaniel rolled over,
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wiped mud from his face and smiled. "Hello there."
The saddle bags the dog carried contained medical supplies and
water, and had a name written on it.
"Achilles, is that your name?"
Achilles wagged his tail and dropped the helmet.
"I think others might need your help more than me."
Flares lit the gloom overhead. "I'm just waiting for a friend."
Ithaniel patted Achilles as an artillery barrage shook the
ground. "Although I have to admit I'm rather enjoying the show."
Achilles licked his face and moved on.
Ithaniel watched the red cross dog criss-cross the shell cratered
ground looking for wounded Allied soldiers. A wounded German
soldier caught in rolls of barbed wire called out to Ithaniel in broken
English for help.
Ithaniel turned and spoke to him in German. "It's hard to believe,
that dog has been trained to know the uniforms worn on the battlefield.
He actually can tell one side from the other."
Ithaniel scraped some mud off his helmet.
"He would of sensed you were still alive - but he had no intention
of helping you, a bit like me really."
The soldier spat blood at him.
Ithaniel laughed. "That's the spirit. Maybe the rats will save you."
There was the crack of a gunshot and the unmistakable sound of a
dog whelping, then a second shot and a third.
Ithaniel scowled. His body began to glow like molten metal as he
stood up. A bullet hit him in the jaw and made his head twist to the
side.
Ithaniel burst into flame and walked towards where Achilles had fallen.
*
