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      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      My family and I have lived in the Penrith area for the past twenty-eight years and will soon be able to call ourselves ‘locals’.

      I have served in the Australian Army as a signalman, for over two years in the CMF (Army Reserve) and for eighteen months as a National Serviceman. During my time in National Service, I trained at Watsonia in Melbourne and served at Army Headquarters in Canberra.

      For the past decade I have been the proprietor of a business currently trading under the name AustPro, which is a Commercial Agency performing the leg-work for the legal industry. I have been a licensed Commercial Agent / Private Investigator for twenty years and prior to that, I was a public servant with the Sydney County Council.

      I commenced my first business — the Nepean Commercial Agency on leaving the council and my wife still runs this company. (I am a silent partner.)

      My hobbies include photography, woodwork and gardening. I am an avid reader of fiction as well as Australian and Ancient History, where I take particular delight in seeking out the more quirky aspects of history.

      This is my first novel and it came about more by accident than intention; I sat down in a moment of boredom and wrote a few lines. After deciding that the few lines needed a further few lines of explanation, a novel was born.

      Published in Australia by Sid Harta Publishers Pty Ltd,

       ABN: 46 119 415 842

       23 Stirling Crescent, Glen Waverley, Victoria 3150 Australia

       Telephone: 61 9560 9920, Facsimile: 61 9545 1742

       E-mail: [email protected]

      First published in Australia 2008

       Paperback edition published August 2008

       Copyright © Jeff Edwards 2008

       Cover design, typesetting: Chameleon Print Design

      The right of Jeff Edwards to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

      This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to that of people living or dead are purely coincidental.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

      Edwards, Jeff

       Watching

       ISBN: 9781921362125 (pbk)

      Digital distribution: Ebook Alchemy

      ISBN: 9781742980980 (ePub)

       Conversion by Winking Billy

      DEDICATION

      To my wife Lyn, for putting up with me during the creation process, for her proof reading, and endless encouragement when all might have been lost.

      To my other close friends who read my words, offered their encouragement, and didn’t desert me.

      Thanks to Julie King for her editing skills, and turning the words into a book.

      

      The order came down the line to ‘fix bayonets’. In response, there was the sound of metal grinding on metal, as sharp blades were pulled from scabbards, followed by a snick as they were affixed. The time was rapidly approaching for the men crouched in the bottom of the trench.

      Sergeant Richard Brown looked up to where his young cousin, fresh out of Staff College, was about to order his men into battle for the first time. He turned to where the troops beside him were awaiting the call, and wondered if they would get close enough to use bayonets on the Germans. Probably not, he thought.

      Richard had been to the front before, and knew what sort of bloody hell lay in store for them. He was determined to keep close to his cousin during the young man’s baptism of fire. Even in the dark, he could see him licking his lips in nervous anticipation, as he stared at his watch, counting down to zero hour.

      The artillery barrage had finished, and silence had descended over the front ...

      Seconds ticked away, as Lieutenant Robert Brown reached for the whistle hanging from a lanyard around his neck, placing it to his lips, before he climbed the last few rungs to the top of the trench. He took his Webley pistol from its holster in anticipation. At last, his watch read zero hour and Robert blew on the whistle with all his might, as he climbed out into the moonscape that was no-man’s land.

      At the sound of the whistle, the troops swarmed up the ladders, and over the top, running as hard as they could toward the enemy lines.

      His legs like jelly, Lieutenant Robert Brown stumbled as he broke into a run, and would have fallen on his face if a hand had not steadied him. Looking around, he found Richard beside him, and the two smiled at one another as a flare fired high into the night sky. Suddenly, the enemy’s machine guns began their deadly work.

      Richard pushed his cousin into a shell hole, and dived in behind him, as the guns raked their position, sending mud and debris showering over them. Screams from wounded and dying soldiers on either side of the pair attested to how close they had come to death. ‘ Crawl!’ ordered Richard to his cousin, and led him beneath the barbed wire toward the enemy’s trenches.

      A German soldier popped up in front of them, taking aim at one of their comrades. Richard and Robert fired simultaneously, and the German’s arms were flung high as their shots thudded home.

      The cousins continued to crawl forward, along with what was left of their company. Finally, they were within reach of the enemy. The English lobbed grenades toward the trenches, and were answered by rifle and machine-gun fire that buzzed around the heads of the attackers, killing many.

      ‘Get ready! We’re just about there!’ Robert called to the men around him. ‘On my signal — we charge!’

      Just then whistles sounded, calling for a general withdrawal.

      ‘Shit!’ yelled Robert. ‘We could have made it to their trenches!’

      ‘Get down! Let’s get out of here!’ called Richard above the din of gunfire. ‘We won’t be going any further today.’

      Gathering as many of their men as they could, and dragging the wounded they could find, they crawled back toward their lines, avoiding sticking their heads up high enough for the enemy to make them a target.

      They had crossed most of no-man’s land and thought they were safe, when German artillery opened fire. The mud erupted around them, and razor-sharp shrapnel sliced into exposed bodies.

      ‘Come on!’ urged Richard, ‘We can’t stay out here. Run for it!’ He picked up one of the injured men, and hefted him onto his shoulders. Those fit enough to do so, did the same, running the last few yards to safety, and sliding down the face of their trench, to relative safety, as the barrage continued.

      Slumped in the stinking mud at the bottom of the trench, Richard looked around, and found his cousin, ashen-faced and holding the hand of the wounded man that he had helped back to safety. Unfortunately, the man had not survived, blood spattered over the front of Robert’s tunic.

      Richard moved over to him. ‘Let him go, Robert ... there’s nothing more we can do for him.’

      His cousin looked up at him with tears in his eyes, trying to speak, but words would not come. Richard nodded at him. ‘Yes. I know, but we can’t just

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