Extract from Chapter 7
Wingnut...quickly laid out his gas cape on the floor of the shelter bay, unpacked his blankets and wrapped himself up in them in the bay. He decided to sleep with his head at the entrance of the bay in case it collapsed.
There was little chance of that but there was no point taking the risk of being buried alive. Wingnut kept his helmet on to act as a pillow and placed a filled sandbag under his helmet as extra support.
"This is the life," he murmured as though
he were sunbathing on a beach in Bournemouth. Within seconds he was asleep. Robbie stared into the night listening to the faint sounds of 9 Platoon digging in the dark behind him and wondering where Tiger might be.
"Well, speak of the Devil..."
he said quietly so that the sentries in the trenches either side of him did not hear him. Tiger came forward purposefully and placed his cold nose against Robbie's equally cold one.