For a moment, Oliver thought he was back in France. He could see nothing but the flicker of firelight, hear nothing but the discordant, terrified cries of the injured and dying. As the sound grew louder he jerked upright and blinked in the semi darkness with sweat beading his entire body. Dragging in huge breaths through his nose, he dragged his blanket around him and shuddered with the naked relief that he was in his own bed safe in London. Letting go of the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, he burrowed back into the softness of the feather pillow but as he closed his eyes he heard cries again, soft, distant. He rolled onto his back and listened.
“No, no, no please…Major, Major…” The anguish in that deep voice was painful to hear and it took him a moment to realise who and where
