The Attack

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Louis steadied himself as the ground moved and shook, the enemy trench was less than two hundred meters from their own and they could feel every round falling on the enemy. Louis almost felt sorry for them.

"Is it always like this!?" the young soldier next to Louis shouted over the noise.

Louis just nodded, he was trying to get himself ready to go over the top, he had no time to waste trying to encourage the others. It was all he could do to encourage himself. Fortunately the Baron was there as well.

He patted the young soldier on the shoulder, then shouted, "Keep moving forward, don't bunch up, listen to your sergeants. And yes, it is usually like this, sometimes it's worse!"

The young man, his name was Michel, Louis suddenly remembered, closed his eyes and crossed himself.

After what felt like an eternity, the whistles blew and the order was given to advance. As Louis climbed out of the trench he wondered at the dead silence. The guns had gone silent, there was no enemy machine gun fire. Somehow this was more terrifying than the usual chaos.

The men advanced steadily across no-man's-land, nothing was moving ahead. Louis said to the Baron, "Think they've fallen back?"

"Definitely, we need to move faster, get into their first line before they counterattack."

At that moment, the officers began to wave the men forward, faster, faster. At last they reached the enemy first line, it was deserted. The troops entered the trench system, jostling each other. The younger men began to cheer, as if they had won some great victory.

"Lieutenant, we can't stay here."

"And why not?"

"Their guns will soon ..."

Before the Baron could finish his sentence, German shells began landing in and around the trench system. Men were screaming, men were cowering at the bottom of the trench, some began to fall back to their old lines.

"Jesus, this is bad, Louis, very bad. We need to advance, not sit here waiting for their attack, meet them in the open, they won't expect that."

Louis looked around, the lieutenant was nearby, clearly confused as to what to do next. Louis had a sudden thought, he grabbed the lieutenant by his sleeve.

"Follow me, Sir!"

Slowly the rest of the company began to follow, the lieutenant looked wild eyed, he drew his sidearm, "En avant! Vive la France!"

Out of the smoke before them, Louis caught a glimpse of German infantry, advancing towards them. The lieutenant's shout startled one man, he looked up and turned to scream a warning, Louis shot him.

Almost feverishly the French infantry began to fire on the move, their shots went wild for the most part, but the Germans hadn't expected this, they hesitated. The French were on them in an instant.

Louis watched in horror as a big German sergeant rose up out of a shell hole, swinging an entrenching tool at the lieutenant's neck. Louis screamed at the man, who turned to Louis sensing the threat, but too late to counter it.

Louis withdrew his bayonet, the big German sergeant fell to his knees, his hands pressed tightly to his abdomen, trying desperately to stuff his intestines back into his belly. Louis kicked the man on to his back, he was no longer a threat.

"Lieutenant, we need to keep moving, they're starting to run!"

The lieutenant stood staring at Louis, his eyes kept returning to Louis' bayonet, which was dripping blood.

"NOW LIEUTENANT!"

Louis waved his arm and shouted to the men nearby, "At them, they're running!"

As the men advanced, shouting, cutting down any German who moved too slowly, Louis looked around for the Baron. He was nowhere in sight.

They overran the second German line, they caught multiple German machine gun teams preparing to advance. Only one crew got their weapon into action, it fired maybe five rounds before jamming. The Germans tried to surrender, the French soldiers butchered them where they stood, pleading for their lives.

The young man who'd crossed himself before the attack came down the trench with a prisoner. Michel's helmet was missing, his great coat was ripped in multiple places, his bayonet was red with blood.

The man he was prodding before him was an officer. The German was bleeding from his left side, Michel had apparently stabbed the man and he was stumbling badly, trying to keep his feet.

"Someone, an officer, please," the German called out in surprisingly good French.

The lieutenant stepped forward, "Who are you? Quickly or I'll give you to my men."

With a look of horror, the German's eyes swept around the trench, "I, I am Colonel Max von Littow, I am your prisoner, Sir." He held his hands out in supplication as he said this.

"What is your unit?"

"You know I cannot answer that ..."

"He's yours, Soldat," the lieutenant nodded at Michel.

"15th Bavarian Reserve Infantry, please, Lieutenant, mercy!" the German cried out.

The lieutenant nodded, "Thank you."

Turning to his men, he ordered, "Louis, you and Michel take this man back to headquarters, tell them we need reinforcements if we're to hold this trench."

"I'll see he arrives in one piece," Louis said.

"If he gives you any trouble, gut him and leave him to die."

The German's eyes went wide when he heard that, "I assure you, Lieutenant, I will make no trouble."

"You made trouble the day your army crossed into France."

Louis paused, then nodded at Michel. To the German he simply jabbed his bayonet at the man and barked, "Move or dance on my bayonet, you Boche bastard."

The German stumbled then began to move, Michel stayed on his heels, promising what he would do if the German hesitated even for a moment.

The German colonel understood the message very well.

As they headed back, fresh troops were streaming forward, word of the successful attack had gotten back already, now all they had to do was deliver the prisoner. Along the way Louis looked for the Baron, hoping he was okay but fearing the worst.

"A prisoner?" They were met at their old position by their regimental commander.

"Oui, mon Colonel."

"I see he is hurt, take him to the aid station. I'll send someone to collect him. Once that is done, you may return to your unit."

They delivered the German to the aid station, where they met the Baron. His arm was in a sling.

"Baron, you're all right?" Louis smiled at the sight of the man.

"Yes, tripped over a Boche, fell into the German trench and separated my shoulder. The medics say I'll be fine, just need to rest for a couple of days."

"We have to return immediately," Michel told him.

"According to who?"

"The regimental commander."

"Does he know your names? Do you think he'll check up on you? No, he won't. You boys can rest here, with me. Worry about the war tomorrow. It will still be there."

And when the sun rose again, the war was indeed still there.