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

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lines for help, Ithaniel rolled over, 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 will 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.

*