Trench Coffee - 1917

Trench Coffee
(c) 2006 Basil Sands

1917 Part 1

A cup of coffee.  The most wonderful thing in the world. 
The steam rises into my nostrils flushing away the burning smell of gun powder and strong odour of death that lingers around us.

The cook came through the trench with a big bucket of the nearly boiling black liquid, dishing out ladles of it into our canteen cups, his helper handing us small meat sandwiches.  I don't know where they got the meat.  Corporal Stanley points out that the cavalry got hit pretty hard this morning too, maybe it's horse meat. I don't care.

The coffee burnt my hand at first, but cooled off soon enough.  I am holding it under my nose, breathing only it's steam, drowning out the world in this cup of coffee.

I wish Bill was here.  He loved coffee.  His dad owns a cafe in their town in Minnesota.  He roasted his own coffee there, Bill told me.

Bill will never taste coffee again, unless they make it in heaven. 
I hope that's where he went.

Captain Smythe walks down the line and tells us we have to get ready for a counter attack.  He tells Corporal Stanley that he is in charge of our platoon now. 

The Corporal looks at us Privates with a sorrowful expression.  He was Sergeant Clarke's best friend.  He says "Yes sir." And salutes the Captain.  I give him Sergeant Clarke's watch.

I take a bite of my sandwich and wash it down with my coffee. 

Private Mickey Rourke, from Boston, climbs up the side of the trench to take a quick look. 

We had pushed the Huns out of this strip of dirt two hours ago, it's been quiet since.  But they don't give up very easily, they're tough soldiers.

Mickey ducks below the parapet and says he see's movement in the other trench line, about 50 yards away.

Corporal Stanley tells him to see if he can tell how many there are.  Mickey takes a pair of binoculars and stands up again, but there's a big clod of dirt in his way to see.  He reaches up to move it.

There's a shot that makes us all jump.  Mickey tumbles backwards into the trench screaming bloody murder and holding the side of his head.

Lucky Irishman, the bullet only grazed him, but took a chunk of flesh off his ear. We all laugh at his good luck as the medics rush over.

I take another bite of my sandwich.  It tastes funny, must be the horse meat, not cooked enough.
Corporal Stanley stares at me. 

"What?" I say.

He points to my sandwich.  I look at it.  It's got Mickey's blood and his missing piece of ear on it. 

I wash my mouth out with the hot coffee.  "I'm sorry Mickey" I say.  "I'm sorry."

1917 Part 1
Trench Coffee - 1917, Part 2
Deathly Fog - 1917, Part 3
Here They Come - 1917, part 4
Pig Men – 1917, Part 5

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