World's Apart

Yesterday's Tomorrow

His legs were burning as he crossed the finish line of the mile and a half run. Doubling over he placed his hands on his knees, taking several deep breaths. 

"Nice work Collins," the drill sergeant nodded eyeing the stop watch "Eight minutes and fourteen seconds," 

Once again he was first over the finish line and his time was ten seconds better than last week. After a minute or two his breathing was recovered and he paced about the field waiting for the others to finish the run.

It was still early morning, around eight o'clock by the time the last man completed the run. As Jack paced in circles about the tree lined field, Farrier jogged over to join him.

"It doesn't even tire you," Farrier sighs exasperatedly. 

Jack smirks, patting him on the back "Believe me, it does," 

It had been almost two months since he'd arrive at Biggin Hill and he was already half way through his basic training. His days consisted of mile and half runs, lifting weights, weapons training, map reading, orienteering, long hikes carrying full kit and survival training. Every day started the same, wake up call at five thirty in the morning, brisk shower and a shave, get dressed and be ready in front of the mess hall for six o'clock. Breakfast consisted of either thick stodgy porridge or a full English breakfast. Once seven o'clock rolled around it was time for the first exercise of the day. This continued until midday when they got an hours lunch break, followed by further exercises in the afternoon until four thirty. By the end of the day the men were tired and sore from a hard days training. Dinner was served at six o'clock for two hours then after this the men has two hours of free time to do as they pleased. Every day followed this routine, except for Sundays. This was the only day in which there was no training and the men could have a well deserved lie in. Church started at nine thirty and afterwards the day was theirs. Often the men headed into the local village for a drink at the pub, some would stay back and write home and others would entertain themselves playing football, cards or dominoes. 

The routine had taken a lot of getting used to. In the beginning his feet would bleed from the blisters and large purple bruises would litter his body from the weight of the kit on his shoulders. There seemed to be no escaping it, training, pain and the war were around every corner. Only sleep offered him any respite, but even that didn't come easy. At night he lay awake in his bed, his mind trailing far off into the distance, but always about her.

What was she doing? And was she thinking about him, the way he was her? Did she still pine for his return? And was home different now so many of the men had left? 

A thousand questions flooded his mind and each night they went unanswered until finally he succumbed to sleep and his mind shut off, even if just for a few hours.

"Come on," Farrier slapped him heartily on the back snapping him back into the present time.

As Jack took a step, his ankle twisted underneath him and he lost his footing. A quick thud and he was on the ground. A few of the men turned to look at him as Farrier helped pull him back to his feet. As he took a step forward, sharp pain darted through his foot.

"Ahh," he hissed picking his right foot up underneath him and limping.

"Sit for a second," Farrier lowered him onto a nearby bench. He stood with one leg propped onto the seat of the bench as he played with a toothpick between his fingers.

"What's happening here?" The drill sergeant appeared. 

"Twisted ankle I think," Farrier said nonchalantly.

"Are you a trained medical professional Farrier?" The drill sergeant quipped.

Farrier lowered his leg from the bench and shook his head.

"I didn't think so, go join the others," The sergeant instructed and Farrier jogged towards the rest of the group.

Jack started to rise from the bench to follow Farrier.

"Not you Collins, a trip to the nurses station for you," The drill sergeant walks away before Jack can complain.

Left standing alone in the field, Jack hobbles towards the path and walks the short distance to the medical quarters. The nurses building resembled every other building on site, except these buildings had a large red cross painted along the side of the brickwork. 

"What can I do for you soldier?" The nurse asked when arrived at the front desk.

Jack rested against the desk, taking some of the weight off his foot. 

"I think I twisted my ankle after the run," he looked at his foot which had started to swell around his ankle. 

He looked back up at the nursing station and his eyes met with the nurse. She was young, around his age, with dark brown hair tied back into a high ponytail. Her nursing hat was pinned neatly to her head and her baby pink dress with white apron uniform was crisp and new. He hadn't seen her before. He didn't hear her speak at first, it was only when she cleared her throat for the second time that he snapped back to the situation at hand.

"Sorry," he stuttered.

The nurse smiled sweetly "I was saying, lets take a look shall we. This way please," she loops her arm under his and allows him to rest his weight onto her shoulder. Her petite frame struggles under the weight of the larger man but she doesn't comment.

"Lie down here," she gestures to the bed in the small triage room.

Jack lies back on the narrow bed, his clothes rustling against the blue paper towel on top of the bed.

"Whats your name?" The nurses questions as she washes her hands at the sink.

"Ja-Collins," he smiles tightly.

"Right Ja-Collins," she smirks knowingly "Shall we take a look at this foot?"