Chapter 15 – The arrival in the trenches

Photo by British Library on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Evening arrived and it was time to head to the reserve line.

Jacko boarded a lorry with Mick and the journey to the trenches continued.

They disembarked the lorries some distance from the reserve line. They would march the rest of the way.

“Few green ones here!”

Jacko heard this as he was getting off the lorry. “Quiet move along.”

Jacko and Mick got off.

“TEN SHUN” was yelled by the commander and men formed a line. The march then began until reaching the reserve line. Another small town, well it had been a town. All Jacko could see was rubble.

Amazingly there were still locals living there. Jacko was stunned that anyone would remain in this area of their own free will.

The noise had grown louder with every step closer. In the distance you could see the battle occurring. Particularly at night as the sky lit up with flares and explosions. It was strangely beautiful in a grotesque way. Jacko found the light show spell binding but would jolt himself when he realised what it must be like closer to where the shells landed.

Training was ongoing to keep the men busy along with work details to repair damaged areas after the daily shelling.

Mick always had his hands in his pockets. He jumped on the spot. Anything to keep warm. He was freezing. He would often talk to the veterans and ask them what they did to keep warm. He stopped doing this when one day one of them said “German shells are bloody warm and hell’s hotter.”

The veterans of the front were not all mean. Most were ordinary blokes and would help the new recruits where possible particularly behind the lines. But none wanted to be responsible for them in the trenches, the fact was the newer you were the bigger the liability.

Every morning the men would stand to and await their daily orders.

“TEN SHUN” the battalion commander stood up and addressed the men.

“Men today prepare your gear and be ready to move out. We will march this afternoon and head forward.”

“Where to?” Mumbled someone.

“The trenches you, dickhead.” Quipped one of the veterans.

Willis gave the company their orders. Jacko prepared his kit ready to move out. The afternoon arrived and the march begun. They would march through the afternoon and move into the line under the cover of darkness.

As dusk arrived whistles could be heard and then a scream of “TAKE COVER” Jacko and Mick jumped off the road into a shell hole.

BOOM! The first shells begun to land.

“What the hell?” Mick yelled

He grabbed something he’d landed on. It was a boot, it still contained a foot. Its owner was in pieces somewhere else. Realising what he was holding Mick immediately dropped it. Then vomited everywhere.

BOOM! Shelling continued; the men took cover. The noise was unbearable, but all that could be done was to endure it until it stopped, and the company could move again.

BOOM!

“AGHHHH!” A scream came.

BOOM!

Jacko saw a man fly in the air. He landed not far. He did not move. Jacko looked closer. His head was missing. The first man to be killed in front of Jacko’s eyes at war.

BOOM!

Mud and slush poured down. Jacko could taste the foul mixture. It went up his nose. But he dare not move to clear his face.

BOOM!

Jacko huddled tight. His hands gripping his helmet. With his arms he tried to block his ears from the noise.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Mud. Slush. Noise. Flashes. Every sense was assaulted.

The shelling stopped. “FORM UP!” Willis commanded the men regrouped quickly.

One man was missing, he was spotted cowering in a shell hole. He’d curled up and was rocking back and forth.

“Get up Private!” The order came, the man did not move.

“Get your arse up or you’ll be tried for treason.” The man still did not move and remained rocking back and forth.

“Leave him lads one will get him soon enough. We stay here we’ll all end up in little bits n pieces.”

The march restarted, Jacko was struggling to comprehend all that had gone on. His ears rang. His eyes saw stars. His nose had slush in it. His mouth mud. The taste and smell both vile. He was witnessing things he couldn’t comprehend. His brain was going a million miles an hour.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mick kneel. Washing his hands in a puddle.

“Bugger it” Mick called.

“What are you doing? Get up and stay in line.” Jacko urged Mick to march.

“The boot mate, I had to wash my hand can’t walk around with that on me fingers. Blasted puddle’s got blood in it.”

After a time, the men were called to a halt. Runners were sent forward, they’d arrived. The runners would alert the patrol in the line they were being relieved.

Guides returned and the battalion prepared to move forward. The trenches were a maze, a jumble. Without the guides the men would be completely lost. The trenches themselves were cut in zig zags so a shell blast would be stopped and only kill a few men not all of them standing in the trench.

After a time they begun to pass the men they were relieving.

“Have fun lads.” One cried

“Gees, they’re getting younger and greener.” Another said.

Jacko stayed near Mick as they funnelled into the trenches and took up positions.

Before they could settle, the sky erupted again. Explosions rained as shells poured down on the positions being taken up.

Whistling noises would be heard and then BOOM! The whistles grew louder BOOM! BOOM! Shells got closer.

BOOM!

More mud! Jacko shut his mouth tight.

BOOM!

“STOP IT! MAKE IT STOP!”

“STOP IT! MAKE IT STOP!” One of the men Macallan had warned Jacko about was hysterical.

“HOLD THAT BASTARD DOWN!”

He began crying and struggling as three men held him down.

“I wanna go home!” He wailed in vein.

BOOM! More mud rained down from all directions.

BOOM! Jacko clutched his helmet tight. He looked to Mick who was doing the same thing.

BOOM!

The bombardment continued without any sign of ceasing.

“How many shells can they possibly have?” Jacko thought.

BOOM! BOOM!

Finally, the shelling stopped. The men bunkered down, Jacko looked for Mick and saw he was OK, Mick smiled at Jacko. It was not his normal smile. It was nervous. But if one did not smile one may cry.

“Welcome home lads.” Willis said.

“German hospitality wishing you well for your stay. That should be all for now.”

The sun rose, Jacko looked across and saw Mick, he was huddled up inside his jacket trying to keep warm. Jacko turned to see the man who he had spent the night next to, he recognised his face. He had come to the pub after arriving with the recruitment march. He’d been one of the worst behaved, Jacko looked at him. He looked back “They always shell us on the changeover.” It turned out Fritz had learnt the signals of battalions being relieved and would send a welcome message.

Stand to, was called, this would occur every morning on the front. Men stood ready in case of a morning attack. Jacko stood rifle poised with the rest of the company. He looked out for the first time at no man’s land.

What a God forsaken place. It was mud with mounds and craters from shells, barbed wire a mist hung over the battlefield in the freezing morning air. Jacko could make out bodies and limbs littering the horrific scene in front of him. What the hell had he signed up for maybe that’s just what, hell. This must be hell because he no longer felt that he was on earth.

Noises went up shells landed but this time no explosion only some pops were heard.

“Kraut bastards!!” Jacko heard a cry come down. “Gas Masks!”

Jacko fumbled around and found is mask and placed it over his head as per his training. He saw Mick had put his on.

Jacko sat back and breathed as calmly as possible.

Welcome to hell.