((hot)) - Boy Brigade Rank

He lifted his head. The gas was curling back in. The tunnel was gone—replaced by a crater of fresh, wet earth.

The squad looked up. Not at the mine. At him.

The rank on his arm burned. A Lance-Corporal’s duty was to give orders. But the manual—the one they’d been given with the pretty illustrations of clean-shaven boys saluting—didn’t cover this. No page on which boy to push into the blast. boy brigade rank

The mine jumped.

He put the whistle to his lips and blew. He lifted his head

He stood up, wiped mud from his mouth, and pointed toward the far trench.

Then silence.

Eli crawled to his knees. His Lance-Corporal’s stripe was gone—ripped away by the shrapnel. But the dented whistle was still in his hand.