Our ANZAC In The Attic

• Chapter 26 •

{ Harry Cook }
"I've waited for this day to come for so bloody long," Shearer grinned. His face in that moment had lit up, suddenly his dark eyes were young, his whole being was radiant and in those few split seconds he was alive, he'd never been more alive. The adrenaline and the excitement had bought out that smile we had been missing.
"Well that was fun," Ollie struck his match for the first time, fighting against the wind.
"Yeah, gonna miss this place," Shearer joked, rubbing dirt between his fingers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Ollie struggling to light his cigarette. He struck the match for the second time, instantly the wind ceased its flame with a chilling gasp that blew down from the north.
"I'm coming home Luce! I'm coming ho-"
Just as Ollie lit his third match, a sniper, who's shot was off, fired a bullet straight into the chest of my best mate. 
His sentence was cut by the gasp that jolted from his chest. Deep red blood trickled through his fingers as his eyes met mine, he swallowed hard as he sank to his knees.
"Shearer no!" Ollie grabbed his face, "no mate no c'mon!" he pushed him back against the trench wall.
Shearer looked down at his hands, blood dripped off the ends of his fingers and his eyes widened. "Really? I lasted the whole campaign and now I get shot," he chuckled. A cough got caught in his throat, and blood poured from the hole in his chest.
"Don't worry mate you're gonna be alright," I told him pressing my hand against his chest. The thing was, I knew he wouldn't be. There were no medics, no stretchers, nothing and nobody who could save him from the inevitable.
Shearer's face turned pale, his hands shook as he grabbed mine and Ollie's collars, pulling us close. As his pupils began to swell he said this.
"You two gotta get outta here, be the two that prove that we aren't just boys, we are men, we fought for more than adventure, we fought for our families and our country," he let out a raspy breath. Ollie and I shuddered, "yeah mate," I wiped the blood from his cheek.
"Now Harry write to my Luce and my baby, you tell them that I died smiling, Lucy loves my smile. Send her my diary, my pictures and my hat," his lips began to turn blue. Shearer's dark hands let us go, but he grabbed my wrist, "I don't wanna die Harry," he mumbled, a tear slipping from both our eyes as he shook.
"I wanna see my little boy, I wanna marry her properly, I want to hold their hands, I want to love them, I don't want to stay here. I want my country, I want my home, I want my life," Shearer's eyes were frightened. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
Shearer took the photo of Lucy and the baby from his pocket, "no I'm sorry," he kissed the photograph and closed his eyes.

He never opened them again.

"SHEARER!" Ollie shook his body. "No bloody hell wake up!" he cried. I felt my nose crinkle and my body jerk with tears.
"They killed him," I rose to my feet. "YOU KILLED THE BEST BLOKE IN THE WORLD YOU BASTARDS! THE ONE BLOKE THAT SHOULDNT HAVE DIED! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!"
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{ Lucy Hamilton }
I didn't register the knock on the door early New Years morning, but Lincoln did. I heard him tiptoe past my room, he turned the handle then slammed the door, making the little house shack.
"Lincoln is everything alright?" I asked, groggily. I heard him fall to the ground, his whole body slumping against the door. I heard him choke and sniff then another knock on the door. I flew out of my bed, grabbing Alistair who was crawling on my face and sercuring him on my hip.
Lincoln looked up at me, his eyes wide and scared and his hands shaking as he gripped his knees.
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, opening the door. In front of me stood a man, his uniform khaki and official, a bike rested against his leg and a cream coloured envelope was lodged in his hand.
"I'm sorry sir what can I do for you?" I asked, totally oblivious to who he was.
"Are you Mrs Shearer?" the man asked.
"Yes, what's wrong?"
"Mrs Shearer, I regret to inform you that Lance Corporal Angus Shearer was shot and killed on the evening of December 20th 1915, the Australian Imperial Forces send their greatest condolences," the man breathed out slowly, as if he was waiting to be slapped.
"I'm sorry what?" I questioned, my hands beginning to shake.
"Mrs Shearer, I'm blind in one eye, I couldn't fight and after doing this job I'd do anything to be out there with those boys. Every morning I wake up to stare into the eyes of women who've lost their love, I have to watch the soul leave their body and the happiness leave their smile. This morning I had a boy slam the door in my face, I hate my job. I am so sorry you lost your husband," he turned away, his eyes closed and quickly hurried down the street.
It felt like the air had been knocked out of me, my mouth swung open and I stood in absolute shock on my slate veranda.
Lincoln screamed, his bellow so loud it frightened me back to reality.
"NO NOT MY BROTHER PLEASE NO!" he screamed. I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek, I breathed so deeply I thought my chest would explode, well I did erupt into absolute hysterics almost instantly. Mrs Shearer bolted down the passage and ripped the telegram from my hand, "my baby, not my baby boy, please," her lip trembled but she didn't cry.
"God by him? He had a baby? He had a wife? He had a life?" she muttered to herself.
Tears and screamed engulfed the house and suddenly I was no longer felt anything. I didn't feel loved, I felt lost. For ever I'll be waiting, that's the only thing I'll ever feel, the longing and patience I wake to and live through.
My beautiful soldier, my tenacious, brave soldier, lies in dirt he didn't love. He lies in a hole where his heart doesn't feel safe.
I lost him.

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I think it might be time for Elouise and Eli to tell the story...
♥️ Chloe xoxo