Splinters In Time

"-So, you want to join the army?"

"Yes, sir!"

A twenty-something Victor Creel, sat in his uniform at the army recruitment desk, looked at the young man stood before him; then down at the papers he was holding, and then up at the young man again. "... And you are definitely eighteen?"

"Yes, sir."

He most definitely was not- he was sixteen, but blessed with a baby-face that often made him seem even younger.

Victor Creel sighed. "... Really? Lawrence Gray, we do know you. You've tried every recruitment drive between here and the next county!"

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"-I don't know where you got these." Victor shook the papers in one hand. "They're good, but they're not that good. You are lucky we have more important things to do than to come down on every young yahoo who gets it in his head to play hero!"

"Yes, I know, sir. That's why I want to join, sir. I want to do my bit."

"You," Victor Creel pointed at the young man across the desk. "Are too brazen for your own good. I've half a mind to thrash you. Now, go on- go home. I'll keep these-" He tucked the papers into his jacket as Lawrence reached for them. "You're going to go home and look after your Ma. And in a few years, when you're actually eighteen, you can try again- and by then, the war should hopefully be over and we won't need you."

Lawrence snarled at that last barb, something which Victor found endlessly amusing, and leapt to his feet, jamming a crushed peak-cap down over his dark hair as he stormed out the door.

Victor couldn't resist calling after him. "At least grow a beard before you try again next time! Might disguise some of that baby-face!"

***

"-So what was the point of telling me to grow a beard if they were just going to make me shave it off anyway?"

Victor took a swig from his bottle. "The point was that it kept you out of the army for another six months whilst you tried to grow one. I can't believe someone actually fell for it after that."

Lawrence laughed. "To be honest, I don't think they actually did. Think it was just desperation at that point."

"Or exasperation. You were very persistent."

It had been two years since that first meeting at the recruitment drive. In that time, Lawrence Gray had grown into quite a handsome young man; with black curls like a Botticelli painting, intense green eyes and the same rebellious streak that had had him volunteering all that time ago. Still, there was a boyish innocence about him. It was a combination that made him rather successful with the ladies- a fact Lawrence always seemed rather oblivious about, much to Victor's constant amusement.

Victor had come to think of him almost like a brother; when it came down to it, Lawrence was a good soldier, a credit to the uniform, and so Victor had taken him under his wing, in at least somewhat of an attempt to curb the man's impulsivity.

They were sitting together in a bar, the other members of their regiment milling around, all taking a well-earned rest before being given any orders to move out again. Some of the townsfolk had come to join them; as well as a few of the women from the ambulance and field hospital. They were sitting together up on the bar stalls, cackling like a flock of exotic birds.

Putting his head down on his folded arms, Lawrence sighed. Victor followed his gaze to one particular French nurse; blonde, short in stature and impeccably made up, not a hair out of place. She had been a familiar face around camp in the last few weeks, but was out of her uniform this time; instead in a lovely- if slightly worn- blue, floral dress, lips painted a bright scarlet.