We jogged the rest of the way and it wasn’t long before we reached the front line. It wasn’t a pretty sight; there were an increasing number of carcases piled up all around and morale was low. There were fully grown men sitting and crying for there mothers in the vision of hell that lay before us. However it was not all that bad. Whilst travelling I bumped into an old friend called John Hemins, he was an elderly, chubby chap with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. I had a great deal of respect for Jon; he was very experienced and had more medals than I could count!
“Hello there old chap,” John said in his usual jolly voice “how are you?”
“I’m fine, I have just taken a bad shot to my left arm,” I replied. “Who is in command here?” I shouted.
“Oh yes of course,” Jon said, I’ll show you to him; follow me.”
And so I followed him through the morning mist.
As we approached the makeshift office John pointed me in he right direction and I began to run. As I did so Jon shouted something at me but I ignored him, I needed to get to that office. John wouldn’t stop shouting so I turned around still walking backwards. He was now sprinting at me shouting for me to stop. He then tackled me to the ground and as he did so there was an outburst of gunfire and numerous bullets were fired straight into Johns back with another two skimming the ridge of my helmet and another in my shoulder. As I landed flat on my back I cried out in pain and looked up to see Johns eyes glaze over. John had tried to warn me of a gap in he sandbag defences. My ignorance had cost me a dear friend’s life. I then burst into tears as I removed John’s dog tag and wrapped up his body.
My arm was in a terrible mess and it needed some serious medical attention but I eventually was able to visit my superior to see what he wanted. As I entered the makeshift office that was only half put together I was greeted with a warm smile and a cup of warm stew. I was grateful however something wasn’t right, I made the assumption the news wasn’t good. I was right. I could tell by the tone of his voice when he said “Captain.”
I then replied with a quick “Sir!” and began to scratch the four week old stubble on my chin.
“The artillery that has been raining hell on us for the past month needs to be dealt with,” he paused. “And fast”. “Those rifles are no match for the machine guns burst of hell.
“What are you suggesting sir?”
“We send a small platoon round to the towers; the platoon will be commanded by you.”
“Before you continue sir why don’t we all go?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not prepared to take that risk, you will leave tomorrow at dawn, I’m counting on you. Goodbye and good luck for all of our sakes.”
The next morning I reluctantly set out into no-mans land with fifteen of my best men to face the German scum and soon found myself in a small bomb crater and under heavy fire from the dreaded machine gun. The true scale of the mission had begun to sink in and the men and I were regretting coming even though we’d had no choice in the matter. I looked round at my men, five of whom were dead and another with a nasty neck wound lying beside me gasping for his last breaths.
“So then, Captain, what do you propose we do now?” one of the soldiers beside me said in a sarcastic voice.
Just as he said this our medic announced the death of the soldier with the neck wound. This did not make the situation much easier; I had to act now, and fast.
I came up with a plan if we could pull it off we would succeed however there was a high risk of loosing some good soldiers. I stood up and hurled a hand grenade at a bunker at the foot of the deadly tower, a few seconds later there was an explosion and sounds of men crying out in pain. A few Germans escaped but they were shot by my ready and alert men. We then made a break for the bunker and we all dived headfirst into its muddy depths. There was a few sighs of relief and we then made our way up the steep mountainside which lead to the tower.
It was a hard climb, the skin on our kneecaps was wearing down to the bone but we eventually made it to the top, with out being spotted. We burst into the tower with the element of surprise! It wasn’t long before every German in sight had been shot to the ground in a battle of vicious gunfire. I congratulated my men as the last German fell to the ground and the explosives were planted. It was then that it happened. The German Gunner that had just fallen was only half dead; he lifted up his arm, gun in hand and as I turned round I was greeted with five bullets in my chest. There was a brief silence as I fell to my knees and the German passed away. The medic approached me.
“Your going to be fine!” he said, I could tell by the tone in which he spoke that he was lying. I watched as my blood began to seep through his fingers whilst he fought the endless battle of trying to stop the bleeding.
“Go now!” I shouted “And that’s an order! Leave me with the detonator!”
My men ran off without question. I watched from the tower as they fled across the barren wasteland they called the no-mans land, and one by one they were all shot down by enemy fire. It was the lowest moment in my life and soon to be the last. I pushed the button on the detonator like a man committing suicide and waited for the moment when I would be relieved of all sorrows and the pointless pain of the war. And that was it my last thoughts were positive thoughts of my family and friends, 5...4...3...2…………………………………………………………….
By Tom Hayes