The soldier walked on alone, taking his own road home. He did not think about the other soldiers, or about the war. He thought only about the long road back to his home.

‘Home,’ thought the soldier. ‘I know my home is at the end of this road. I just need to go on walking.’

The road felt hard under his boots, and the only sound was the noise of his boots on the road – tramp, tramp, tramp. He was tired and thirsty, and his mouth was dry as dust.

‘There’s no water,’ he thought. ‘Just dust. Dust in my mouth. Dust everywhere.’

Tramp, tramp, tramp went his boots.

‘Don’t stop walking,’ he told himself. ‘I can’t stop. I mustn’t stop. I’ll rest when I get home. Mother will make tea, and then I can rest.’