Gas! Gas! Gas! (Royal Zombie Corps Book 3)

by C. M. Harald

  Marsh ran from tree stump to tree stump, trying hard not to fall behind the Tigers he had sent on ahead. He knew that Mullen was mirroring his advance to the left. Within seconds Marsh had line of sight on the second line to the rear of the hill, having himself cleared the brow of the hill. As he advanced, he saw the first Tigers leaping into the second trench. Shouting, screaming and the occasional shot again showed how unprepared the enemy were for the surprise attack. They had clearly not recognised the noise, generated by the first assault, for what it was.

  A green flare flew into the air, fired by the defenders. On seeing it, Marsh threw himself to the ground just short of the German line. He was terrified of being caught in the open and the flare had been fired at the worst possible moment. Shots came from his right and he was unsure if these came from the defenders or his own protection squad. A snarl from the German positions, convinced him that a Tiger was clearing the trench to his front. Marsh rose, rushing forward the final yards before throwing himself into the trench. He felt exposed by the dying light of the flare as it fell to the earth. In the fading light he saw several dead defenders, a Tiger hunched gorging itself on one of them.

  Marsh readied his shotgun and made his way up the trench towards his right, where he expected to find Matthews and Davies. He sent the Tiger on ahead, around a corner to meet any enemy threats. It was a wise choice as a fusillade of rifles sounded, the Tiger falling back motionless from a head wound.

  Peaking around the corner, Marsh could see several Germans spread along the trench, ready to resist an assault from his direction. One of the defenders saw him, but was too slow in getting off an aimed shot. Marsh checked his webbing for a Mills bomb. He was not sure he would be able to throw it far enough, or accurately. As he considered this, Wells arrived next to him.

  'Josh, bunch of them up ahead, just around the corner.' Marsh said.

  'Grenade and then charge?' Wells asked, 'No Tigers nearby?' He looked at the dead zombie laid in the bend.

  'Tigers?' Marsh questioned, realising that he had completely forgotten that there was another alternative way to deliver his Mills bomb.

  Marsh reached out with his mind, summoning several Tigers that were busy gorging on the far side of the Germans blocking the trench. He ordered the zombies to head towards the back of the German position. The Tigers responded quickly with several screams of 'Zombie!' The shouts marked the progress of the creatures through the defender's position.

  Alfie reattached the grenade to his webbing and nodded his readiness to Wells. There would be no need to use it now. They both ran around the corner, guns firing blindly into the surrounded defenders. He knew that as long as they did not aim too high, they would be unlikely to harm their own Tigers in any critically important way.

  The defenders had no chance, overwhelmed by the ferocious attack from behind, two Tigers ripping through their rearguard before they were able to react. Several of the Germans dropped their rifles and ran up the trench, straight into the fire from the two British soldiers emerging from around the corner. The rest of the defenders fell to the claws and teeth of the Tigers. Within seconds the remaining terrified and pained screams were cut off as throats were torn out and stomachs ripped apart. Silence descended on the trench.

  'Thought I'd find you here.' Davies strode through the carnage having followed the Tigers up the trench, 'I knew when my Tigers took off, it must have been you that summoned it. Doesn't look like you need my help though.'

  'All sorted now Colin. Secure at your end?' Marsh asked.

  'Ready to go.'

  The follow-up infantry emerged on queue to take ownership of the trench. The Tommies climbed over the parapet with grins on their faces.

  'This is easy.' One of the infantry said, 'Keep it going, we'll be in Berlin soon!'

  At the agreed time Marsh sent the Tigers forward again, knowing that the infantry following on would be ready to support them again within minutes. The defenders in the final German line were now alerted, unable to ignore the noise of the previous assaults. Sporadic rifle fire was coming from some of the positions. However, the defenders were hampered by the location of their forward artillery and supply posts between what had been their second and third defence lines. Where possible, they were trying to spike their guns and damage the supplies, but a general sense of panic had set in and the chaos was spreading. As the Tigers rushed forward, they overran isolated gun posts, Marsh allowing them the brief delay of clearing any positions they encountered. Marsh himself stumbled into a camouflaged supply dump, falling through the camouflage netting that had been spread from one side of the cutting to the other. It was deserted and Marsh go up quickly, fortunate not to pick up any injury worse than a collection of bruises. In seconds he was moving forward again, already lagging some way behind the Tigers.

  Marsh saw a Tiger jump into a gun-pit, in which three Germans were attempting to dismantle a trench mortar with the aim of preventing it from falling into British hands. The busy soldiers lasted mere seconds, the Tiger quickly jumping out of the pit to continue the advance again. As Marsh watched, one of the defenders re-animated, quickly falling under the handler's control and joining the assault. Looking across the width of the battlefield, Marsh realised that the majority of the Tigers advancing were in German uniforms, reanimated this very evening. There were dozens of them, he had never seen so many Tigers in one place.

  It was clear to Marsh that these new tactics were successful in creating significant numbers of new zombies, fortuitously solving the problem of the shortage of Tigers. There had been an ongoing problem of how to create the zombies in a way that could be considered ethical, despite the unreasonable demands of wartime. The main source had been naturally occurring zombies, those that were successfully captured on, and near to, the front lines. The other major source were those created from among the enemy during attacks. However, the nature of the attacks, to date, had also ensured that a good many zombies were spent in the attacks, therefore the Experimental Battalion had never been able to grow the number of Tigers available to them quickly enough to keep up with the expenditure in combat. The attrition at Bullecourt had been a good example of this, where most of the attacking Tigers were wiped out and too few replacements were recruited.

  The Tigers were slower to advance this time, no longer driven by the fear that Marsh had channelled into them during the earlier phase of the attack. That they had smashed through the front two lines, and were in the rear of the enemy position, had taken the edge off Marsh's fear. The Tigers could not help but pick up on this and consequently spent more time gorging on human flesh.

  Marsh ran past several abandoned field guns, their crews nowhere to be seen. They had probably made their escape upon hearing rumours of the presence of Tigers, or when they had spotted the zombies leaping across the battlefield. The firing from the final German defensive line increased, but was still sporadic in nature despite a further flare being sent up into the air by the defenders. Temporarily illuminating the field, the flare was fired when Marsh was at the bottom of the final hill, allowing him to hide in the shadows and observe the battlefield around him. To his rear the supporting infantry was already advancing, keeping low to the ground and using the cover available to them, especially the hollows of the now deserted German gun positions. To his sides he could see the members of his protection squad moving quickly from shadow to shadow, avoiding a dangerous straight forward charge at the enemy.

  Ahead he saw the Tigers stream into the enemy trench, the sheer number of them quickly overwhelming the defenders. Marsh rushed forward, certain that there would be no further opposition. Leaping into the final enemy trench he found several Tigers gorging themselves on the flesh of the recently fallen, only a small number of whom were given the opportunity to reanimate.

  The final stage of the attack was a complete success, the support troops quickly secured the last trench in enough numbers to ensure that any counter-attack by the enemy would fail. Marsh knew that if they had the
means, the British would have been able to continue to push forward into the vulnerable rear areas of the enemy, the areas containing all the support functions. Such a breakthrough would have spread panic across the enemy front and the German defensive line would likely have collapsed. However, there were no mobile reserves to exploit the opportunity, the objective of the attack had simply been to show that such an assault was possible using the Tigers. Surely the General Staff would be impressed, certain to move forward with the experimental unit.

  'How many Tigers did you take?' Mullen asked once he had found Marsh. Mullen wiped his face, tired but elated.

  'Dunno, ended up with at least thirty more than I started with, but I've not done a count.' Marsh had been busy securing the Tigers rather than counting them. He had never handled this many before.

  'I took forty-two new ones.' Mullen proudly announced, 'What's more, I reckon I can handle a lot more than that as well.'

  'It's new ground, we've never been this far before.' Marsh grinned.

  'Where the hell did he come from?' Morgan asked as he saw Lieutenant Simpson striding along the trench. The officer was clearly looking for someone, and there would be no prizes for guessing who.

  'Where's Marsh, man?' Simpson demanded of Morgan. The soldier simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

  'Over here, Sir.' Marsh replied, waving his hand so that the officer would see him. He was sat at the bottom of the trench leaning on some supply crates with Mullen. Their backs were to the the arriving officer and they had been enjoying a well earned rest after the hard work of the night. Marsh wondered what the Lieutenant wanted this time. No doubt some fault, imaginary or real.

  'We're to push on.' Simpson ordered, 'Get your Tigers ready to move in ten minutes.'

  'But Sir, we've achieved the objective. There're no follow-up troops ready, and the sun's now up.' The plan had been limited throughout to the capture of all three German lines as a means of proving the night-time Tiger strategy.

  'Orders from above Marsh, don't argue.' Simpson looked hard at Marsh, challenging him to argue, willing it, 'The decision has been taken to follow through on your assault. The infantry are still fresh and are going to push on. You're to support them by leading the advance.'

  'But Sir, we're trained to assault trenches, not advance across open ground in broad daylight.' Marsh complained, 'That's what all our tactical planning has been about.'

  'Exactly. And that is why I'll be taking over and directing the movement. So you won't need to worry about that, just do as I tell you.'

  'Bloody hell.' Someone behind Simpson complained far too loudly. It was not the only comment as there was plenty of muttering among the protection squad.

  'Keep your troops in line, Marsh.' Simpson glared at Wells, Morgan and Davies, 'Wells, you too, get some order established here.'

  Wells made a show of slowly moving among the rest of the protection squad, checking their kit and readying them for the attack. The lieutenant ignored him and turned his attention back to Marsh and Mullen.

  'There are some farm buildings directly east of here. We suspect they're being used as a command post. We'll advance, take them and then move on from there. Are you able to do that Marsh or should I get someone else like Mullen here?' Mullen waited until Simpson's gaze returned to Marsh before glaring at the Lieutenant, 'You'll advance in open order, ahead of the infantry and if you come across any resistance, you're to stamp it out. The infantry will provide fire support and hold any ground you take. Questions?'

  'There's hardly any cover Sir, we'll be in the open. We're not trained for that. Our Tigers will be sitting ducks.' Marsh complained.

  'Those are not questions, Marsh. Now get your men ready.'

  Marsh started calling out orders to the combat group, sending Mullen back off to control his own flank. The Irishman unleashed a stream of curses at the idea of the additional advance and there were audible groans travelling up and down a combat group that had been expecting to stand down. The supporting infantry were not happy either, having survived a successful assault with minimal casualties, they had assumed that they would now have the far simpler job of securing the defences rather than moving into the open.

  'How're we going to do it Marsh?' Wells asked.

  'Spread out, like the Lieutenant wants, and use whatever cover we can to move forward quickly and quietly.' Marsh replied.

  'They'll see us coming and we'll be completely in the open.' Wells complained.

  'Well let's hope they aren't ready for us then? We've broken through their lines, so hopefully we'll be attacking cooks and pen-pushers, otherwise we might have a problem.' Marsh replied, 'Make sure you keep the security squad close, we may need them if we end up in a firefight.'

  'Ready the advance!' Simpson shouted, moving back up the line, intent on locating himself by Marsh to ensure his orders were followed to the letter. An infantry officer echoed his call with the riflemen readying themselves, several of the men swearing at the apparent injustice in the events. None were happy to further expose themselves to danger even though they may, at last, be taking part in the great mythological 'break-through'. The German lines had not previously been smashed in the three years of war to date, and their success should have cheered them, but it was abundantly clear that advancing in daylight would be far more dangerous than the experimental night attack.

  'Tigers forward!' Simpson shouted for show. Stood next to Marsh, he need not have been so loud.

  'Forward!' Marsh echoed, although it was the mental command that did the work. He heard Mullen shouting the command further up the line and wondered if the vocal command was just as redundant there. The advance reminded Marsh of the skirmishing tactics of the Napoleonic period. He had read about these when formulating his own tactics. Yet, it was clear that Simpson was intending to repeat the tactics that had been used so unsuccessfully in earlier trench assaults.

  The Tigers advanced in large numbers, so dense in number that from the front they would have appeared to be an animated shield of flesh and bone that the infantry could hide behind. Marsh had not taken in quite how many new Tigers had been recruited during the assaults, far more than either he or Mullen had estimated. Nevertheless, he was not prepared to risk their number, sending them mental instructions to spread out and move quickly, using any cover they could find. The protection squad was next out of the trench, and with the Tigers ahead of them, they moved from cover to cover, as carefully and quickly as they could given their limited options. Finally the infantry advanced, unsure of themselves, some copied the example of the Tigers and protection squad, the rest advanced in the open order that had been the basis of their training.

  'Why are your Tigers using cover Marsh? I want them out in the open, driving fear into the hearts of the enemy.' Simpson was staying close to Marsh, although not making use of the cover that Marsh was using to conceal himself.

  'We need to keep low, Sir.' Marsh said, getting ready to sprint to a shell crater he had spotted ahead, 'We'll move quickly, we'll surprise whoever we find and with luck, they'll not hit us.'

  'I said I want them up and advancing correctly, not like cowards hiding in the shadows.' Simpson's voice was angry, 'We will use the correct form of attack.'

  'But Sir, this is an experimental unit and this is how we work.' Marsh complained, turning to look up at the officer standing over him in the open.

  'And I'm the commanding officer and I say do it my way. Or are you refusing a direct order?'

  'No Sir,' Marsh knew he was taking a risk by arguing with the officer, 'But the Colonel put me in tactical command.'

  'Is the Colonel here? You were in tactical command for the assault. That is over and now we're now moving on. I'm in tactical command now.' Simpson lost patience, kicking Marsh, 'Now get up and do what you're told!'

  Marsh got to his feet, stung, rather than hurt by the unexpected kick. Standing next to the Lieutenant and warily looking around the rear areas of the enemy line, he briefly considered shooting Si
mpson. There were no enemy in sight and no shooting, the only noise and movement coming from the British troops. Before he could pursue vengeance for the kick, he felt suddenly exposed, unnaturally stood in the open.

  'See, perfectly safe isn't it.' Simpson said in a tone that was close to accusing Marsh of cowardice, 'Now get your Tigers moving in open order.' Spotting Wells slightly ahead of them Simpson repeated the same order for the protection squad. Several men ignored the order and Simpson went off to personally berate them, more than one suffering contact with Simpson's boots.

  Marsh sent the order and his Tigers rose from their cover, slowing their pace while continuing to move towards the objective. Mullen's Tigers rose soon after, with Mullen having spotted what Marsh was doing, and probably realising why. The three lines of the British advance were soon in the open, the Tigers, followed by the protection squad, preceding the main British force of infantry. Simpson made a noise that could have been interpreted as satisfaction as he move back to his position near Marsh.

  'Marsh, get those beasts on the right to close up.' Simpson ordered as they advanced. The farm buildings were not much further and Simpson was organising the Tigers in a way that would allow them to outflank the building on both sides. The ground was increasingly firm, having not been turned over by the constant shelling that bedevilled the front lines. Marsh even noticed there were some crops growing, suggesting the farm had recently been inhabited.

  Several cracks sounded as bullets passed overhead. The fire came from a small gun-pit, or dugout, hidden behind a bush. It was to the front, and left, of the farm house. Mullen instinctively surged some of his Tigers forward, the cries of the defenders announcing the success of the assault. Directly in front of Marsh a concealed machine-gun position opened fire, chopping through several of the closely packed Tigers. Some of the zombies did not rise again, having clearly been hit in the head by the fire. The majority of the Tigers had recently reanimated and were therefore not wearing the improved head armour that had been provided the night before. Even had they been wearing head armour, Marsh doubted it would have offered much protection from a machine-gun at this range.