For nine days the artillery barrage rained down on us that June of summer in the Somme machine gunners like me waited in our concrete bunkers deep in the earth
When the shelling stopped we rushed to the surface and began our job of mowing down the slow walking British Infantry stoically advancing as if in another war in another time where they might choose to die bravely and with honour a hero fighting for his life his king and country
But here he dies unknown by the chance turning of my gun in his direction at that one moment and the random number of bullets left to fire.