Wavering Warrior, page 13
part #2 of Trench Raiders Series
He continued to throw wild punches around, each one growing increasingly weaker as his body couldn’t keep up with the demands of the situation. His legs bucked and kicked, aiming for the groin, but nothing would throw the German off from taking one last victim with him to the grave.
We were dumbfounded for a moment, in disbelief that against such overwhelming odds, the German still fought for his Kaiser. None of us jumped in to help Bob instinctively, but we grabbed our rifles all the same, wistfully hoping more than anything that an opportunity would present itself to take the shot.
The confines were too cramped though, and the tussle suddenly took a turn in Bob’s favour as, in what well could have been a last-ditch attempt at survival, he flipped the German onto his back and pounced upon him like a ravenous lion.
There was no way we could take the shot safely, we didn’t know if the German would suddenly gain the upper hand, and the bullet we had just aimed at his head would find its way into Bob’s stomach. That was without taking into consideration the number of survivors above us; if they heard a rifle crack, then there was a possibility that we could have a platoon of hard-nosed, battle-ready Germans falling on our heads. And enough had already gone wrong tonight.
The grunts and grimaces continued for half a second more before a fist the size of a football slammed down hard on top of Bob’s skull. He crumpled on top of the German, who quickly found the energy to roll Bob off him and take the upper hand once more, but it would be the last thing he would do.
McKay lunged at him, bayonet drawn and firmly in his grasp. If there had been more light I was certain his knuckles would have been white with intensity.
McKay was controlled, calm almost, as he stopped just short of the tussle and slid the bayonet expertly into the man’s neck, continuing to push from right to left until I thought the bayonet would appear out of the other side. He drove it in firmly, but almost like he was trying to do it without causing too much pain to the man, which he must have achieved, as the man lay silent as he withdrew the offending weapon.
It was all over faster than if a bullet had shot from one side to the next, and I could make out great bloody tears running over both McKay’s and Bob’s faces as they sucked in the fresher air of freedom for a moment or two.
McKay rolled the body off Bob’s chest, affording him some freedom to begin recovering and profusely thanking McKay for saving his life. McKay ignored him, instead opting to wipe his bayonet on the back of the German’s tunic and retreat to where he had been sat previously.
As he did so, the Captain, making sure to keep his head nice and low, crawled his way over to the corpse of the German, verifying his death and checking for any additional intelligence that he could present to his superiors.
“Thank you…Thank you,” repeated Bob over and over, in an exaggerated whisper that was either down to the throttling he had just received, or out of an awareness that there could still be more just inches above our heads.
The flare suddenly went out, plunging us once again into the familiar darkness that we had been waiting for. Now, we would be able to move. Hopefully, within the next hour, I would be back in our lines and on our way to the Café de Fleurs, but anything could happen out here.
McKay began to sob uncontrollably. The water burst forth as if a dam had suddenly given way, the oncoming stream obliterating everything within its wake. His chin trembled awfully, and I watched as the muscles in his face went into overdrive as they fought against the cries, and tried to bring his face back into order.
He seemed like a child for a while, the crying so raw and unblemished that it was as if the pain that was coursing through his body was a physical one, a wound somewhere having opened up and causing an incredible weeping. His hands were tightly clamped into defiant fists, as if he knew he needed to stop, but fighting the urge was futile.
“McKay…McKay…it’s okay. We’re going back now. Relax.”
I couldn’t think of any other words to utter into his ear as I pressed him into my chest, so I repeated them over and over again as he slowly began to calm himself down, the sobs soon turning into nothing other than desperate gasps for air.
He was more like a child than ever before, softly breathing within my embrace, as I soothingly repeated the words to him, trying to bring him back to reality.
His breathing and general behaviours suddenly became erratic once more, as a burst of gunfire suddenly rattled over our heads, a mixture of the booming machineguns and solitary cracks of rifle fire.
McKay buried his head into my chest, as I tucked my head over the top of his, pressing it in so firmly that I thought he might begin to burrow through at any second. I bit down hard on the backs of my teeth as I grimaced my way through the latest attempt to sever my mental from my physical being.
I couldn’t for the life of me work out why they were firing, especially as there was no source of illumination to speak of now, and consequently no real chance of hitting whatever it was they thought they were aiming at.
Maybe they were making sure that their men were dead, so that they couldn’t be picked up and patched up by our troops as additional prisoners. It was unlikely, but not an impossibility.
The chances were that they were merely doing it to make themselves feel a bit better. You’re more likely to hit a target if you pull the trigger, than if you don’t.
The sweeping gunfire continued for a few minutes more, and I clamped my eyes shut on more than one occasion, when the whines of bullets passing overhead resounded far more often than I perhaps would have liked.
There was nothing that we could do, except wait it out, alone with our own thoughts and the other silent silhouettes who were perched beside us.
I was trying my best to protect McKay from the noise, as if that would somehow restore his confidence and sanity, but I was struggling to come across as reassuring as I would have liked. My hands had started to tremble, and an almighty headache had begun to burn at the front of my head. I put it down to the incredible noise of the last few minutes, coupled with the burningly bright light, that had seared my eyes to the point that I thought I would go blind.
I reached for the hip flask. It was the only thing that seemed like it could give me some sort of relief.
20
A serene silence suddenly stretched across the entire landscape. Nothing seemed to move for entire minutes, a phenomenon that I had not experienced for what felt like an eternity. It had been so long since I had experienced silence, and the accompanying lack of movement of anything around me, that I quite quickly felt uneasy, scared almost.
Surely something will give in a second.
I waited and waited, alone with my thoughts as I gradually convinced myself that out of the silence, death would sneak up on me.
Any moment now. Any second and I will be dead.
I held my breath for what felt like five minutes but wasn’t anything more than two or three seconds. Everyone else did the same, including the dead Germans.
But still, as we strained our ears to the point of bleeding, there was no noise, not even any rustling about in the German frontline just a matter of yards away.
We waited for a few minutes more, just to ensure that we weren’t going to be lit up the moment we peered over the top of the shallow ditch.
My uniform was soaked through, a mixture of sweat and dirty rainwater, and it clung to me like a second skin. I couldn’t wait to shed it the minute we got back to the café. I quickly rebuked myself.
Too much hope, Andrew. It’ll get you killed.
I couldn’t lose sight of Sergeant Needs’ advice now, I had come through a lot this evening on the back of it.
The night, from our point of view, had largely been one of catastrophe and close calls. I felt particularly despondent at the initial wave of pride and success that I had felt when we had first left the German frontline.
But now, my pride was well and truly dented, beyond recognition, and I gave myself a stern talking to that, if I was to see through tonight, then I would never feel pleased or proud of what I had done until my war was over; whether that meant the end of the war itself, or when I was staring at the underside of a coffin lid.
I wondered for a moment what was going to happen to us. Would we face some sort of disciplinary action for venturing back out into No Man’s Land? Or would it be medals for our bravery?
I couldn’t get the thought to leave my mind for another few minutes before I looked over at the Captain, and stared at his apprehensive face.
He was a fantastic leader, one who had been willing to sacrifice himself, as well as the rest of his other men, for one man who had lost his way for a few, pivotal moments. But now, he had put us all in danger for McKay, he had gone against orders and ignored the signs of a weakening soldier.
None of this would have happened if he had stuck by protocol and it certainly wouldn’t have happened if McKay had been removed from the team.
Ultimately, the buck stopped with Captain Arnold, the one who was in charge of each of us and the strain was showing on his face mightily. He was in his own little world again, the one that he seemed so comfortable and peaceful in, but this time he was concerned.
He abruptly caught my eye for a moment before he pulled himself from his stupor and back into officer mode.
He rolled over onto his stomach, sliding his rifle up beside him as if he was giving it the chance to look over the lip of the hole with him. He allowed the tops of his eyes to just rise up over the edge of the hole, but stopped quickly, not wanting to put any more flesh on display than was strictly necessary.
Arnold signalled for us all to bow in towards him as he spoke, so that his voice wasn’t carried along by the swarming silence.
“I reckon it’s about time we went back now, what do you reckon? Out of here, across No Man’s Land and back to our lines. All quite simple really.”
I couldn’t wait to get back, I was practically shaking at the prospect of finally being relatively safe again. The tremble in my fingertips had worsened, and I craved the fear and excitement that I so clearly needed to steady them again.
The one other thing that I had found myself craving was some of Earnshaw’s paraffin. It was stronger than the stuff that Needs had had, but it had tasted so much sweeter than anything else before.
I had necked so much of the stuff in that little ditch, as had the Captain and the others, that I was soon shaking around a near-empty hip flask that had no more than a few solitary drops clinging to the inside of its chamber.
As I sat there, rotating it in my palms for something to distract from the trembling, I realised it wasn’t so much a craving anymore, but a need. It was slowly giving me the confidence to do things in this war that I never thought imaginable before I discovered it. It was what had made me leave the trenches for that very first advance and every act of bravery since.
It was beginning to take a hold on me, as if I felt like I needed it with me to operate effectively. I didn’t feel like it was hindering my performance at all, and so felt no desires whatsoever to curtail my consumption of the stuff. There and then, I decided I would stock up on some of Earnshaw’s supplies, just in case he snuffed it before I could replenish my barren flask. He’d already come close tonight.
“Let’s get one thing clear though, before we make tracks. This,” he pointed to the hole that we were perched in, “is to be our little secret. No one else is to know about what has happened tonight. No one outside our section. Understood?”
I nodded enthusiastically, as did Bob. McKay sat unresponsive, but attentive enough to know that he was taking it all in.
“If anyone let’s slip, then that’s it. McKay here will most likely be court martialled and shot. By association, you could hope for a prison sentence too. Your reputation will be shredded, your families ashamed of you. I’m not trying to scare you into staying silent, I’m being realistic.”
He looked at us in turn, with a glare so stern that it was clear that he would happily be a part of the firing squad himself, if he was to find out we’d said something.
“It could have happened to any one of us. We’re all human, we’re all vulnerable. Fear is a part of war. Understood?”
I waited for a few moments before saying anything, but when I did, I feared immediately that I had made some sort of mistake.
“Sir, the Germans will find the satchel eventually, their command will have it soon. How are we going to warn our boys that an attack could be coming, without telling them what’s happened?”
He gave it some thought for a moment, heading into his own thoughts while staring at me unceasingly, as if he was annoyed that I had created some more mental work for him to do.
“I suppose I’ll have to come up with something for them…I’ll just tell them that there was a higher number of troops in their lines than what we had previously seen. Lead them into thinking that they’re getting ready for an advance. Hopefully that way they’ll make preparations for attacks in this sector.”
I nodded obediently, as if he had commanded me to, but deep down I was conflicted as to whether or not the ploy would work. But I couldn’t see any other way out of the predicament we had found ourselves in. This was our only way.
“Maybe it’ll even work in our favour, launch a pre-emptive strike which captures the line. Who knows. Maybe this will help shorten the war after all, eh McKay?”
He looked over at him and gave him a smile, which was reciprocated only by a lengthy stare. The Captain was good to McKay, to the point where it felt almost like a fatherly bond existed between them, the Captain never able to stay angry at his son for too long, before the love for him shone through as he remedied all the issues.
It should have worried me, that the Captain was unable to let go of his men, but instead it comforted me, to know that everyone in this section would have one another’s backs, and would willingly volunteer to crawl out into No Man’s Land to find my corpse.
“Whatever happens, we must stick together as a section. Got it? No one goes awry.”
I looked across at Bob in what felt like the first time in forever, comforted to see his blackened face and his turbulent little eyes staring straight back at me.
We’ll be back soon enough, that’s what he had shouted at our old platoon as we left to join Captain Arnold’s team. But somehow, without speaking, we both knew that would never be the case now.
I wondered if he had ever believed in what he had said, or if he had known that we would never be going back there, as I had thought at the time. Maybe it had just been a flippant comment that he hadn’t believed himself, or maybe he held a genuine belief that he would soon be back to a standard infantry soldier.
Whatever he believed, we were now bound to this section for the rest of our days, we were glued to one another by secrecy.
“Right then, chaps. Shall we try and make it back without any more dramas?”
As we began to roll around in the dirt, trying to make our way back to our lines, I realised something about the section that I was now obliged to serve for the rest of my life.
I enjoyed being here, I loved the excitement of what we were doing and there were no other men that I would want to be fighting with, than the ones that I had beside me in the section.
For me, I was no longer a soldier watching the likes of Arnold, Hughes, Earnshaw and McKay, but something different.
Now, I felt like one of the trench raiders.
THE END
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Thomas Wood, Wavering Warrior
