Over There - La Mort est Là

Gassed: 'In arduis fidelis'
Gilbert Rogers (PD IWM)

Murphy was on the floor of the trench, his mask was on but the eyepieces kept fogging up. He was terrified of attempting to clear them, he didn't know how or even if that was possible. So he stayed put, hugging his rifle and trying not to hyperventilate.

"Murphy, get up!"

He felt a hand on his coat sleeve, jerking his arm, someone was yelling at him. He shook his head vigorously, he wasn't going anywhere. Then he felt a kick.

"Goddammit, get off your ass!"

Murphy looked in the direction of the voice, he noticed then that the eyepieces of his mask were clear. He also recognized his platoon leader, 2nd Lieutenant Johnson, not by his face, covered by a mask as it was, but by the nervous energy in the man's voice.

"Sir!"

Murphy got to his feet, reluctantly, he looked up and moaned.

There on the parapet was a large German, masked, his coal scuttle helmet making him look like some demon from his grandmother's stories.

Eberbach had reached the enemy trench, he stopped, puzzled, these were not Frenchmen, they looked British. But when did the British get here.

"Keep moving, Soldat." A voice said as he was shoved from behind, the man jumping forward as he did so.

Murphy nearly jumped out of his skin as a second German appeared and a shot rang out from close by.

"Damn it, Lieutenant, use your pistol!"

Sergeant Morrisey had shown up just in time to shoot the second German, who tumbled into the trench knocking Murphy off his feet.

Eberbach saw the man who had shoved him fall into the trench, the soldier who had shot him frantically working the bolt of his rifle. He saw three enemy soldiers, one under the man who had shoved him, another, an officer perhaps, seeming to stare at him, holding a pistol but not pointing it at anything.

Eberbach jumped into the trench, impaling the rifleman with his bayonet. Pulling the bayonet free, he jammed the butt of his rifle into the pistol man's face, knocking the man's gasmask off as he did so.

"F**k, f**k, f**k!"

Murphy could hear his platoon sergeant screaming over and over. He got free of the dead German in time to see his lieutenant get hit in the face with a rifle butt. The lieutenant began to gasp and cough as soon as the gas hit his lungs.

There was another German standing between Morrisey and Johnson, trying to turn around in the narrow trench. Before he could, and without thinking, Murphy shot the man in the chest.

Eberbach felt as if he had been punched, he was having trouble taking a breath. He collapsed to his knees, was his mask loose? As he wondered what had happened, he noticed the man coming to his feet just to his left, the man he had been attempting to engage.

Just before his eyes stopped seeing, he noticed the man's insignia. An American?

That man shot him again. After that, Eberbach saw nothing.

The attack had been repulsed, but with heavy casualties. Captain Allen shook his head, he was still half deaf and he was shaking with fatigue.

"Say again, Corporal."

"Johnson and Morrisey are both dead. 2nd Platoon lost four privates as well. Lieutenant Wilkerson is wounded but he says it's a scratch, other than that, 1st Platoon has three wounded, one really bad, and two dead."

"3rd Platoon?"

"No idea, Sir. Can't find them."

"Can't. Find. Them?"

"No Sir, their section of trench is gone. Collapsed, it's just piles of mud and wrecked duckboard. I've got guys over there digging."

"But how? There was no preliminary bombardment, just gas and smoke, then the Huns were on top of us."

"Yes Sir, but when the Huns pulled back, they bombarded us, do you remember?"

Allen stared into the distance, "But it was only a few shells, nothing heavy ..."

Corporal Ramsey nodded, "But those were dead on target, Cap'n."

Capitaine Petit found Allen shortly after sunset.

"Mon ami, your company is being pulled back as soon as your replacements show up."

Allen looked at his French liaison, "Replacements?"

"Yes, another French company will be moving up, your company is going to the rear. Your time with us is up."

"Up?"

"Are you alright, Theodore, did you hear me?"

Allen nodded, "Yes Henri, I heard you. We've only been here a couple of weeks, why are we being pulled back?"

"Your Général Pershing wants all American units together, to form a single army under his command. Our Maréchal Petain does not agree, but he has been overruled by Paris. So you will be pulled back to refit and then move to another location where your countrymen will be replacing a French division."

Allen nodded, "My men?"

"They are being fed, your officers have been notified of the move."

"I shall miss you, Henri."

Petit grinned, "No, you will not, I am going with you, unless you've learned to speak French recently?"

Allen managed a weak smile, "Well, that's good news."

Bauer had checked everywhere, but Eberbach was nowhere to be found. He returned to his dugout, it seemed that his squad was down to just three men, other than himself. He looked up as someone entered.

"Friedrich, they know where Kurt is."

Bauer sat up, "Where, how is he?"

"He was left behind when the attack failed. Schmitz was there, saw Kurt kill two of the Amis before one of them shot him, twice it seems. Schmitz killed that American but he couldn't check on Kurt as more of the Amis showed up, and they weren't happy."

"Scheiße! Now the Eberbach's have lost another son, is the Hauptmann going to write that letter?"

"Probably not, Hauptmann Schmetterling is missing in action. He never came back, no one saw him fall."

Bauer nodded, "I'll write it. Kurt was a good man."

As the man left, Bauer wondered just what the point of the attack had been. Men had been killed and wounded on both sides, but no ground had changed hands. What had been the point?

He wished that he was home.