The piercing blast of the Officer's whistle sent shockwaves of fear through Tommy, but he did not hesitate. Climbing the ladder out of the trenches, he was momentarily startled by the brightness of the sun shining on no-man's land, but moved forward as swiftly as he could through the gap in the barbed wire.
As Tommy advanced with rifle and bayonet at the ready, he began to hear what sounded like the buzzing of angry bees and noticed the heads of poppies bursting around him in red showers of petals; he realised with a shock that these were enemy bullets zipping by his vulnerable body.
On the left and to the right Tommy saw his comrades fall, but he pressed-on through the hailstorm of bullets and now shrapnel as shells began to burst around him. Shivers of panic pulsed through the young lad as he realised he was likely to be struck at any moment.
Tommy was pushing forward through the mud, when there was a sudden deafening roar and he felt himself flying through the air and tumbling as his world span upside down.
Tommy awoke to a ringing in his ears. He was lying at the bottom of a shell crater, half submerged in stinking water. A searing pain shot-up from his left foot causing him to grimace and groan. Pulling it out of the bloody mire, he saw that he had lost his boot and that there was a vicious slice in the side of his heel, oozing blood.
The lad lay on his back panting heavily, but when he looked up he saw a fellow soldier that he knew from the Dorsets had joined him in the shell-hole. "Let's have a look at that foot, Tommy" he said. On cursory examination, the fellow grinned: "Don't worry, mate, you'll be alright; in fact you're a lucky bastard, you'll be on a boat home for that's a blighty wound for sure".
Three weeks later, a very happy Tommy was limping up the narrow country lane from his village towards home. Spring sunshine fell on May blossom in the hedgerows and the birds were singing sweetly.