Page 38 of The Unknown Birds

He gazed at her for a minute before answering, “In the usual way.”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Ash if you want pictures, you’re going to have to ask Coop.”

She burst out laughing at that. And though it seemed reckless having both Nurse Jo and TomTom in on the secret, and worse, it had hurt him to discover it for himself, she felt a little bit less alone.

A week later, Ash and the lads were writing letters home from the safety of another concrete bunker in the support line, while Max snoozed happily at Stewart’s feet, but after a few quiet minutes TomTom threw down his pencil.

“Who knew war could be so deadly dull?” he griped. “Bad enough we can’t write home about anything interesting, but nothing’s happened to not write home about for days.”

Ash had to admit that while she wanted to relax and enjoy the quiet moments in between the terrifying ones, there was a maddening sort of tedium in waiting for the next order or the next run or the next bomb to drop.

At times, the mind-numbing routine of it all helped take the edge off. A few days in the front line were inevitably followed by a few days in the support trench just behind, and then a week in the reserve line. Their days seemed never-ending, and their nights were a monotony of sandbags, barbed wire, telephone cables, shots fired, build them up and tear them down and start from naught again. It was the quiet moments that were hard.

“Have you cleaned your weapons?” Ashley asked him.

“Yes, right after breakfast.”

“Have a kip then,” Cooper suggested, kicking back with his hands folded behind his head like he might take his own advice.

“I’m too tired to sleep,” Tom moaned. “Besides, by the time I’d get to dreaming, it would be my turn for the watch.”

“You could volunteer to clean the latrine,” Ash teased, earning herself a perplexed sort of scowl that made her laugh.

His stomach growled and she laughed harder. She should’ve known it was hunger behind his grumpy mood.

Cooper offered him some sunflower seeds, but Tom made a face and shook his head. “Hardly worth the trouble, are they?”

“Better than hard tack,” Coop said with a shrug.

Tom scratched aggressively at his side. “Ugh, who knew war would be so itchy?”

“Lice?” Blake all but accused, moving further away.

Nodding, Tom grimaced, and sat on his hands to keep from scratching.

“Let me show you Rook’s trick,” Ash said. “Take off your shirt.”

“Rook has a trick?” he asked, shedding the itchy garment.

“And a match?” she said, laying the shirt out flat well away from her bedroll.

“You going to burn my shirt?” he exclaimed.

“That’s one way to get rid of cooties,” Stew laughed.

“Just give me a match.”

Dutifully, TomTom complied, and they all gathered around, scrunching up their faces as she lit it and ran the flame quickly along the seams of the shirt to kill the lice.

“That really works?”

Ash shrugged. “Better than nothing,” she said, waving out the match and handing Tom his shirt, which he inspected closely.

“May keep himself to himself, but he’s dead-useful, that sniper,” Tom said, as he did up his buttons, and for her part, Ash couldn’t help but to agree.

Cooper held up his hands for the matches, and Ash tossed them over, getting Maxie’s attention. The dog sat up, fully alert, as though she hadn’t just been kicking the wall in her dreams.