Apologies for the delayed update, writer's block
But I'm getting on with it OK now so there might even be another one soon if we're lucky
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The company were in the ancient city of Syracuse, out of the line for another day. It was full of all the illicit industries that grow up around an army, with soldiers from all corners of the Empire. The Sicilians who remained there after the British advance fell broadly into two categories. There were the pragmatists, eking out a living by providing for British soldiers off duty. Then there were the hostile, for here the British were an occupying force, and had underestimated the enthusiasm with which ordinary people across the length of Italy would embrace the war. It was not uncommon for troops to fall victims to organised attacks while they were out of the trenches, sometimes from partisans loyal to the government, sometimes just anti-British forces with their own political agendas. Last time the company had been out of the line, two officers had been shot dead at close range while sitting outside a café in broad daylight; none of the locals claimed to have seen anything. Such attacks were a growing problem and one which the military authorities seemed unable to deal with.
As a result rest out of the line was hardly rest at all, most soldiers preferred to stay with their units. Those who ventured into towns in the evening more often than not did so in large numbers, which in turn bred further distrust amongst the population. Tonight Archie was one of a dozen or so men from his unit, determined to enjoy their last night out of the line in the café they had come to frequent so often before. He sat down at an outside table with two privates, Eddie O’Hare and Will Craddock, and they ordered drinks.
Being all working-class lads from northwest England, they had not drunk wine out of church before. Since arriving in the Mediterranean that had grudgingly got used to it; besides, the girls serving it made it worthwhile. It seemed that every lonely Sicilian girl was serving drinks in Syracuse; it was enough to make the young British men risk the dangers of the town.
The evening progressed from idle chat to raucous singing, unusual in that it passed off without an incident between soldiers and locals. Eddie and Will left to lurch their way back to base, while Archie stayed for one last drink with a sergeant from the West Midlands. They talked of their jobs and families back home in the uninhibited way that strangers do when the alcohol has been flowing all night, and they know that this conversation could be their last. And then they talked about war.
‘I don’t like it here at all,’ the sergeant confided. ‘Reminds me too much of ’99; you never knew where the buggers were going to come from there either. But at least then we knew we were going to win eventually. To tell you the truth, mate, I don’t think we can win this one.’
‘You think the Italians can?’ Archie asked incredulously. Despite their recent successful military campaigns the Italian army was still regarded very lowly by the more advanced European nations.
‘I didn’t say that did I? No, no-one can win. Look what happened in France… the Huns nearly reach Paris and get stopped in their tracks. Same in Denmark, and Poland. But we can’t push ‘em back. Too bloody weak too attack, but too strong to just defend. So what do we do? Attack. You know, that girl’s been looking at you all night.’
‘You reckon?’ Archie was surprised by the swift change in subject but regained his concentration without so much as a glance at the serving girl who the sergeant had indicated. ‘Anyway, it’s not as if the Italians will put up much of a fight is it, once the main attack gets launched? Not just for Sicily anyway. It’d be too much damn trouble for this country.’
‘Don’t bank on it. Our captain told me the south has some special significance for them, something to do with when the country was united.’
‘United?’
‘Yeah, in the 1850s or something. And the funny thing is, the Brits back then all supported them. Bet they’re kickin’ ‘emselves now, eh? Best make your move if I was you lad, she’s eyeing up that highlander now.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Archie asked.
‘About what?’
‘Everything.’
‘You stay in the army long enough, you end up seeing things as they are. I’ve been in Africa, India, never lost a battle. But we can’t win this damn thing,’ he got up as if to leave, and looked again at the serving girl. ‘I’ll leave you to it lad.’
Archie sat confused for a while, unaware of the place emptying around him. He had always assumed they would meet victory at some point down the road. Even on the retreats in northern France no-one had talked about losing the war. The man had sounded so resolute and wise, but in the end even he had got up to go back to his unit, get back in the line the next day and follow orders for as long as it took. There wasn’t a man Archie knew who wasn’t prepared to die for his country. Perhaps it’s true, he thought, that soldiers need something to complain about to keep us going. But underneath it all, we’ll pull through.
‘More wine sir?’ Archie was caught off guard by a sweet female voice not far from his ear. So long was it since he had heard a woman speak in his native tongue that for a couple of seconds he was speechless. ‘Or perhaps as an Englishman you would prefer some beer? My uncle even has some English ales bottled, from before the war of course.’
‘You, er, you speak English well,’ Archie mumbled. Then he turned to look at her. She was, like many of the Sicilian women, dark haired and dark eyed. Her irises were nearly as black as the pupils themselves, her thick hair truly did cascade over her shoulders, which were bare and smooth. Below that, much was left to the active imagination of a nineteen-year-old. Her blouse was loose and her skirt was large.
She giggled to see him staring, although he couldn’t believe that she wasn’t used to it by now. ‘I’ll fetch you a bottle now if you’d like.’ Archie opened his mouth to protest as she turned away, but said nothing. He was lucky with who was on guard duty tonight; one or two bob to Adam at the gates should see him alright, as long as he was careful and back before morning. He looked around and saw that no-one else had been inclined to take the same risks, or else they had found other entertainment by now.
The girl reappeared at the door to the café’s interior. ‘Come on in, it’s getting cold out here isn’t it? I suppose that reminds you of home yes?’ She laughed. She appeared not to have any of the melancholy about her character that afflicted the rest of the occupied and downtrodden Sicilians. ‘I’m Carmela by the way, my uncle owns this place. We do well enough for ourselves thanks to you and your army, if there’s no fights.’
Archie followed her inside across the cold stone floor to where she sat at a circular table near the wall, having taken two bottles of beer from some hidden cellar. He took one readily when offered. Soon she was standing up again, picking up bottles, some of which were broken, from the floor and muttering curses in her own language.
‘Damn, your boys make such a mess, but my uncle says it is good for business. I think it is bad, no people from the town come here anymore. Often I have no-one to talk to. Soldiers can be boring.’ Carmela spoke frankly in short sentences, often changing the subject so that Archie was at a loss as to how to reply. He made an effort nonetheless, and looking up at a portrait of a man in military uniform which dominated the room asked, ‘Is that your uncle there?’
Carmela laughed at his ignorance, her long hair shaking and strands falling over her eyes. ‘You English are always so ignorant of the places you invade! That’s Garibaldi, my uncle worships him almost as much as her,’ at this she nodded to a portrait of the Virgin Mary hanging on another wall. Suddenly Carmela froze as a noise from upstairs broke Archie’s awkward silence. Footsteps on creaky old wooden floors grew louder.
Carmela grabbed Archie’s arm with both her hands and pushed him towards the café’s exit. ‘That’s my uncle,’ she whispered by way of an explanation. ‘You’d better get back to your post, soldier.’
With a wink she closed the door, and Archie was alone.