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| Sunday Morning At Cunel Harvey Thomas Dunn (Source) |
"I told ya kid, ya gotta ..." the older soldier paused as he fired again. The enemy was advancing in short rushes, he was hurting them, but each rush brought them closer and closer. "... take your belt ..." racking his bolt he fired again, "... wrap it tight as you can above the wound and torque it with your bayonet, damn it kid, didn't you pay attention in training?"
The older man started to turn around when a big German suddenly jumped out at him, bayonet poised to skewer him. His mind racing, how did the bastard get this close? He raised his rifle and fired.
The German's head snapped back, he could see that he had shot the man in the head, the hole in the helmet was obvious. Yet the man just bellowed incoherently in rage and drove his bayonet at the older soldier's chest.
In desperation, he brought his rifle up to deflect the bayonet thrust. He was only partially successful, instead of the blade sinking into his chest, it pierced his left arm just under the bicep. Miraculously it missed the bone.
Now it was the older soldier's turn to bellow in rage, his arm felt like it was on fire. He swung his right fist into the German's face. He heard the man grunt as the blow landed. But his opponent simply shook his head and reached for the older soldier's throat.
The older soldier gasped as he tried to knock the German's hands away. Those hands were clamped down on his throat and squeezing hard. Was this it? The older soldier was near panic as he tried desperately to break the German's grip.
Everything seemed muted, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, there was a roaring in his ears as he thrashed under the German, who suddenly gasped. The German stared down at the older soldier, his face a mix of amazement and shock. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over his intended victim. The German was dead. Shot dead.
"Jesus, buddy, are you alright?"
The older soldier was coughing harshly, he was sure that the German had damaged his windpipe, his throat hurt badly. Shaking his head he sat up looking around in near panic for his rifle.
The soldiers who had come up on the position, counter-attacking and driving back the German assault had a medic with them. That man checked the older soldier and said, "You're gonna be okay buddy, take deep breaths now, if you can."
"My arm ..." he wheezed.
The medic saw the tear in his jacket and bandaged him up as best as he could, they needed to keep moving. "That'll hold you for now, flesh wound."
"Where is ..." coughing again , but slowly getting his wind back, the older soldier looked around the position. The kid was gone, where?
"The guy that was here? With the leg wound? Stretcher bearers took him back to the aid station, tourniquet probably saved his life."
The older soldier coughed again, then reached down for his helmet, which had come off in the struggle with the enemy soldier. He brushed the mud from the interior as best he could, then once again looked for his rifle. A voice spoke.
"Hey pal, we gotta move up. Head back to the aid station when you're ready."
The older solder looked up, it was a sergeant, "Sure Sarge, thanks."
As the others moved off, the old soldier stood up and saw his rifle, it was under the dead German. Sighing he rolled the corpse over and reached for the rifle. Then for the first time, he really noticed the man who had been trying to kill him. The man he had been trying to kill.
He wasn't that old, while there was a lot of blood on the man's face, his bullet had clipped the man's scalp, his youth was obvious. The older soldier knelt next to the body for a few long moments, then he patted the corpse on the shoulder and muttered, "Sorry pal, it was you or me."
As he moved back to the aid station he began to wonder, where had the man been from, what was he like? Did he leave a family behind? After he'd walked out of sight of where the struggle had been, the older soldier had another coughing fit and had to sit down.
Then, for what seemed like no reason whatsoever, the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He had killed before, in fact had killed three men just before the struggle with the big German, but never so close as to feel the man's last breath on his face. He had never been so close to dying himself. In that long moment between his own near death and the German's actual death, he had seen something, felt something. A glimpse of eternity perhaps?
Shaking his head, he got up, "God damn this f**king war."
Every time I see a thing about WW1 I remember the display at the WW1 museum in KC that talks about the Americans killed on November 11th between when the armistice was announced and when it would happen (1100 hrs). Some commanders just couldn't quit...
ReplyDeleteThose that fought to the end should have been court-martialed and shot. Bloodthirsty bastards.
DeleteMy understanding is that was done under the direct orders of Pershing.
DeleteDamn.
DeleteThe display didn't mention orders to continue (I was there in Oct 2017) ... I found the photo & copied this part from it...
Delete"Hostilities will cease on the entire front beginning at 11.00a.m., November 11. Allied troops will not pass the line reached at that date and at that hour without a new order.
Some Allied units were happy to simply await the hour, but, for some "the line reached ... at that hour" was still to be determined and no less than nine U.S. divisional commanders continued to press forward in the attack. On a day when the outcome of the war was already decided, over 300 Doughboys would die."
And for what?
DeleteI downloaded a copy of Mud, Blood and Bullets: Memoirs of a Machine Gunner on the Western Front". I'm just at the point where he has been sent to the trenches. So far, it's a worthy book.
ReplyDeleteNext in the queue is The Storm of Steel".
They look excellent. (Checks his wallet and his bookshelves, "Hhmm, where would I put those?")
DeleteYou probably already have "Over the Top" by Arthur Guy Empey who was an American in the British Army in WW1.
DeleteI don't have that, don't thin I've read it either. Looks like a good read.
DeleteHe tells of serving under the British General "Old Pepper" who believe that that orders were orders and meant to be obeyed. An officer that gave ground had an interview with him, coming out with face red as a brick. Before nightfall, what was left of his unit was back in their former positions...
DeleteGutenberg Project had an online copy, will be reading that soon.
DeleteTo bore you again, I downloaded a redundant copy (having a printed one). On a hunch, I looked for and found "Fix Bayonets" by John Thomason USMC on archive. I have only read an excerpt from it in "Combat World War I", In it is a picture of an attack (paraphrased) "American Marines and Regulars, the Senegalese, and the Foreign Legion of France. And behind them straining horses galloped with 75s, artillery over the top at last with the infantry...
DeleteGuess I'll need to find that one as well.
DeleteGood writing Sarge, was tensing up as I read.
ReplyDeleteThanks, the urge to write this came over me all of a sudden, can't explain it.
DeleteWow Sarge. That is a vignette and a half.
ReplyDelete"As he moved back to the aid station he began to wonder, where had the man been from, what was he like? Did he leave a family behind?" As you have often commented before, in different circumstances so many of these soldiers would have had a great many things to share.
And yes, even if there is not a family, there is a web of connections that is instantly severed.
Things which were and are now lost. Those thoughts are never far from my mind when hearing of war, or rumors of war.
DeleteThere must still be some literary magazines or the like which publish short stories. Submit this. It deserves a much wider audience than just the esteemed visitors here.
ReplyDeleteThere are some haunting thoughts and an important message in your carefully crafted words.
Well done, sir!
If nothing else, a perfiect piece to repost EVERY Veterans (nee Armistice) Day.
John Blackshoe
Thanks JB, I might have to look into that.
DeleteSecond Brother Blackshoe's praise and recommendation . An excellent vignette. A week past Armistice Day, perhaps it was percolating in that time. You have a gift, Sarge.
DeleteBoat Guy
Thanks BG.
DeleteReading about the "older soldier and the German":
ReplyDeletewhen my father's eldest brother was "in his cups" in the evening and as an early teen I was staying/working at his farm in upstate during the summer (for reasons I'd prefer not to get into), I would ask him what it was like to be a soldier (grunt) in the war (II)., his short answer one time was, "Every time I pulled the trigger, I couldn't help but wonder if I had just killed a cousin."
I wonder how many other guys in the "Great Thirty-Years' War" had the same thoughts?
It makes you wonder, doesn't it?
DeleteI had a Geology prof of German descent who had been a WW2 transport pilot. After Normandy, his squadron was moved to Abbeville, France (the former home base for the ME109s of the infamous "Abbeville Kids"). In a bar shortly after arrival, one of his friends called him by his last name. The French locals got all upset and excited. Turned out his cousin had left suddenly a few days before.
ReplyDeleteDamn, not a real big surprise though, it really is a small world.
DeleteExcellent short story, Sarge. All the right literary elements very tightly wrapped. Well done, Sir!
ReplyDeletejuvat
Thank you, kind Sir!
Delete