Remember that Charlie wasn't a coward at all, you will understand when you read this. ((quote from the book, through Tommo's eyes))
I try to close my mind to what is happening this minute to Charlie. I try to just think of Charlie as he was at home, as we all were. But all I can see in my mind are the soldiers leading Charlie out into the field. He is not stumbling. He is not struggling. He is not crying out. He is walking with his head held high, just as he was after Mr. Munnings caned him at school that day. Maybe there's a lark rising, or a great crow wheeling into the wind above him. The firing squad stands at ease, waiting. Six men, their rifles loaded and ready, each one wanting only to get it over with. They will be shooting one of their own, and it feels to them like murder. They try to not look at Charlie's face.
Charlie is tied to the post. The padre says a prayer, makes the sign of a cross on his forehead and moves away. It is cold now, but Charlie does not shiver. The officer, his revolver drawn, is looking at his watch. They try to put a hood over Charlie's head, but he will not have it. He looks up to the sky and sends his last living thoughts back home.
"Present! Ready! Aim!"
He closes his eyes, and as he waits he sings softly, "Oranges and Lemons, says the bells of St. Clements." Under my breath, I sing it with him. I hear the echoing volley. It is done. It is over. With that the very part of me has died with him. I turn back to the solitude of my hay barn, and find I am far from alone in my grieving. All over the camp I see them standing to attention outside their tents. And the birds are singing.
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War is caused by those few 30 people who decide to start the war, and it is fought by those who are good. It's sad to say, but the good ones are always the ones who die...
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