The Last Lady from Hell

by Richard G Morley

  The short Welshman who normally had an even temper could feel his face flush as the officer approached. Bert ignored the question and instead growled his own. “Who are you?”

  “Lieutenant Hollings. And I repeat–to whom am I speaking?” Bert’s muscles on the sides of his jaw were beginning to knot up as he clenched his teeth.

  “Chief Engineer Bert Carol,” he said. “What is it you want?”

  “What is your rank, Carol?” Hollings asked condescendingly.

  “What is it you want?” Bert repeated through clenched teeth, his jaw set and head stretched forward.

  Hollings, for the first time, backed down a bit. “Well then, I need some progress information on this mine for my superiors. This other chap couldn’t have been less helpful.”

  Bohlig moved uncomfortably close to Hollings causing him to take a step toward the tunnel wall. Hollings nervously looked at Bohlig, then back at Bert.

  “See here! My superiors ... your commanders have sent me here to check on your progress,” he stammered. “This mine is vital to our assault and must be finished on schedule.”

  An artillery round pounded the trenches nearby sending a shower of dirt down on all three men. Hollings covered his head and instinctively crouched looking nervously at the thick timbers holding up the mine. Both miners stood over him ignoring the mine’s protest to the shelling. Hollings slowly stood up dusting off his formally clean tunic.

  “Look here! My job is to see that all is being done that can be done.”

  The mule cart and driver had made it up the ramp and paused next to the three men. The mule driver, an old miner, tied off the reins and set the hand brake. He came over and stood next to Bert sensing that something was amiss. He looked at his fellow miners and then fixed a hard stare at Hollings letting go with a spew of chewing tobacco.

  The Lieutenant began to perspire, seeing that he was outnumbered by men who couldn’t care less for rank and standing.

  “I don’t need any monkey business here! I simply need to report that all is being done...” His voice cracked and faded away into a mumble.

  Bert leaned in toward the man, his substantial eyebrows fixed in a deep frown. “Until I see this tunnel’s dirt caked under your and your superior’s fingernails and until I see bleeding blisters on your and their hands,” Bert said slowly and evenly, “all that can be done is not being done. Until that moment arrives, don’t bother me or my men again. This tunnel will be completed on schedule with no thanks to you or your superiors.”

  Hollings moved around Bohlig, who had been standing motionless and expressionless throughout the entire encounter, and moved up the tunnel looking back and saying “You are borderline insubordinate”.

  The mule driver looked at Bert and Mel. “I’m glad he left, there’s only need for one ass in this mine and that would be Bessie here.” He gave the mule an affectionate slap on its rump.

  They all broke into loud laughter. Seconds later a whizz-bang hit directly over the entrance causing a partial collapse of the mine sending the three miners running to try to shore up the fallen timbers. Outside miners ran into the dust cloud belching out of the mouth of the tunnel with picks and shovels not knowing the danger below. They only knew that there had been a collapse and that men were down there, fellow miners.

  RECONNAISSANCE OF THE SOMME

  The artillery had been constant night and day for almost a week and the word had gone out that it was soon coming to an end. There wasn’t much piping going on by Terry or Doc, no point, it was impossible to hear. Terry Manning was sitting on his cot with cotton stuffed in both ears. He had read his letters from home so many times that he could recite them by heart. So, while he and Doc (George) were tending to their pipes – rehemping the tuning pins for the drones, the chanter, and the blow pipe, Dan Mckee was drumming on a German helmet he had won in a card game. All were just nervously waiting for the word. The knots in their stomachs were tightening as the zero hour, which had not yet been announced, drew inevitably closer. The tension within the division was as thick as no man’s land mud. The normally calm and even keeled Newfoundlanders were agitated and nervous, it didn’t help that a British Commander had come in to oversee the regiment.

  Colonel Harold Winsted came from what would have been considered a blue blood family, so regardless of his ability he had been given a command. He was a gangly, Ichabod Crane sort of fellow who was insensitive to his own inabilities. He rather believed that he was a shining example of superior command ability and would bark out pointless orders in an effort to convince himself of this. Colonel Kelton, who the men trusted and looked up to, would follow Winsted around and try to temper the poor command of this inept fellow. Kelton often stood in the background giving the men an understanding nod and they would in turn follow the orders of Winsted no matter how ridiculous and nonsensical they were.

  The men had been well trained and were battle ready. The Regiment had seen action in the Gallipoli campaign in Turkey and many were battle tested, they didn’t need to be needlessly ordered about to bolster the ego of an incompetent buffoon. So, Kelton suggested to Winsted that he pick several men to form a reconnaissance party to survey the forward trenches and reconnoiter the area, as the British bombardment was supposed to have destroyed the massive barbwire entanglements laid down by the Germans.

  It was well known that the Germans had set up strong defenses by means of a 3 trench system, the 1st trench was heavily fortified with strong barbed wire entanglements, the 2nd and 3rd were several hundred meters apart and were the forward defense points heavily protected by machine guns. The intended effect of much of the bombardment was to destroy the entanglements and open a clear path to the German trenches and troops. Colonel Kelton was concerned that the entanglements may have survived and thus the suggestion. Colonel Winsted poo-pooed the idea but reluctantly gave in when Kelton himself volunteered. With Kelton gone, Winsted would have free rein without his constant interference. The decision was made and Colonel Kelton had only to pick volunteers for this dangerous mission. He went to Terry, Doc and Dan and explained the situation.

  “No pressure, strictly volunteer. It’s for tonight and the word has come down from the top that the morning after tomorrow is Zero hour - 07:30.”

  The trio looked at each other wondering what to say, a double header had just been dropped into their laps. Dan spoke first.

  “Count me in, anything beats sitting around here waiting and going deaf.”

  The other two agreed and Kelton proceeded to lay out the plan for the evening.

  “I have dark clothing for us to wear to help conceal us, so we’ll don that around 2300 hours and depart at 0000 hours. We will blacken our faces with coal oil smudge from the lamps. We will be traveling light, no packs, Enfields, or canteens, only waist belts and holstered pistols. We must avoid German detection and return with our information, so, no killing Germans unless completely unavoidable. Artillery fire has been instructed to move south of our intended path which will be past the danger tree and right up to the 1st trench off Beaumont Hamel. Beaumont Hamel is the objective of the 29th Division on the morning of July 1st, a day and a half away.” He stopped and waited for the inevitable questions.

  Terry asked. “Did you just tell us the battle begins on July 1st?”

  Dan asked. “Can we eat before we leave and will we be back in time for breakfast?”

  “Yes, to both questions.” Kelton continued. “The Germans will be sending up stare flares, so when one goes up, you drop down and lay very still. We will stay together, so it is imperative that no one is detected, if one is seen, we are all dead! The danger tree is, as you know, the ragged tree stump that marks where German machine gun fire is the most intense and concentrated. The distance we must travel this evening will be approximately 1,000 meters one way over very rough, shell battered terrain, so the going will be very slow. We will only have 5 hours before dawn, so we must keep a steady pace to the cover the total 2000 meters before we’re daylight ta
rgets.”

  He looked at the three men and asked.

  “Are you still up for it?”

  “Yes” all three agreed.

  “Then get some sleep now because you won’t be getting any tonight.”

  The three men turned in and got several hours of fitful sleep before they were awakened by Kelton at 2200 hours. The cook had prepared a special meal for the team and they ate well in Kelton’s tent. At 2300 hours they smudged their faces and donned their dark apparel and set off for the trench system. Kelton was intimately familiar with their trenches. Unlike many of the commanding officers, Kelton believed that one should lead by example so he would often join the men in the trenches. The quartet moved along St. John’s road trench which led to the front trenches. The bombs were still dropping unendingly, but none of that mattered to them. They were oriented to the mission and had faith in each other’s ability to pull this off. The evening had cooled off nicely to about 58 degrees, still sweat was forming on all the men. They made their way past the last Sentry and listening post.

  “Look for us around 0500, don’t shoot us” Kelton said with a wisecrack smile.

  The Sentry replied back.

  “God go with you, Sir, I’ll not shoot my own brave lads. Good Luck.”

  Kelton had kept up a good pace through the trenches, but now they had to go over the top and the going would become slow and arduous. The three men crouched down and followed the Colonel as he bobbed and serpentine across no man’s land. The flash from shelling exposed them briefly, but it was the star shells that could end the mission and, of course, their lives. The four hit the dirt as a star shell hissed high into the black night. Terry glanced at Doc and Dan, both to his right, as the broken and pocked landscape was illuminated with an unnatural light. Their eyes met as they lay prostrate, all hoping that the Germans could not see them as well as they could see each other. The sweat glistened on the men’s blackened faces as the star shell arched and began to diminish in intensity. As the last sparkles of phosphorus burned out, Kelton quickly resumed his crouching run toward the German front lines with the men close behind. Suddenly, Kelton disappeared into the blackness. The men stopped their run and moved forward at a cautious pace. They came to the edge of a shell crater commonly referred to as a crump hole and heard the muted cursing of Colonel Kelton.

  “You ok Colonel?” Dan whispered.

  “Other than being covered with this butt stink mud, I believe I’m ok! Help me out of this crap hole, will you, please!”

  The bottom of the crater was full of about 4 feet of mud. It could have been worse had it been early spring. Many men in full gear had drowned in mud filled shell holes. The sides were still very steep and slick, so the men made a human ladder with Dan holding Terry’s heels and Terry holding Doc’s heels. Kelton climbed out cursing under his breath.

  “I couldn’t see a friggen thing. Good thing you lads weren’t right tight behind me!”

  He looked up and then left and right trying to regain his bearings and determine the direction of the German lines then began trotting in a crouched run again. The men followed from a cautious distance. For about two hours, the four slowly weaved their way across no man’s land hitting the deck for the frequent star shells. Terry learned that once the star shell was shot off and you hit the deck, that it was best to keep your eyes closed tightly to avoid the temporary night blindness that followed. The others were quick to follow this sensible method of maintaining modestly good night vision and hopefully avoid another visit into a mud filled hole. Another star shell hissed skyward and the four dove for cover. Kelton dove into what the thought was a slight depression, but once again, he rolled down a steep embankment. This time he was not met by mud, but by the sharp stings of barbed wire. This was the outer German trenches heavily fortified with wire. He lay still so as not to further entangle himself and surveyed the situation. As the star shell arched high, the trench lit up with the ghostly light and to his horror he saw that the barbwire entanglements were intact in both directions as far as the eye could see. All those shells had missed their marks and the 1st line of German defense was still very much so intact. As the star shell fizzled out, the others scurried down the trench embankment to help their leader out of the wire.

  “This friggen wire is untouched! How could they have missed it so completely?”

  No one answered as they were equally stunned by this revelation. As the men finally snipped the last of the wire off of Kelton, he seemed to have escaped the encounter, as before, with just a few light cuts and bruises.

  “We have to get this information back to headquarters! If they try to move on Beaumont Hamel, they’ll be slaughtered!”

  The men agreed, this section of the German 1st line of defense was unscathed, to attack here would be suicide. Suddenly over the background noise of war, the foursome heard German voices accompanied with some clanging and rattling of equipment. They froze and slowly sank into the rough landscape trying to remain invisible. A German work party of about seven men were noisily walking on the opposite side of the 50 foot wide entanglement inspecting and repairing any damage. They seemed to be quite bold in the lack of stealth, obviously believing that while in the trench they would be safe. Using their shovels as walking sticks gave a clang with each step. Their conversation was loud so as to be heard over the sound of artillery. No need for caution, no one would be mad enough to be out here! Anyway, they won’t attack until the artillery fire subsides.

  “Not much to do out here, the entanglements are in fine shape”. One German said.

  “Das ist gut.” was the reply.

  The party moved slowly past the four men and continued their slow stroll down the German side of the trench until they were no longer seen or heard.

  Kelton scrambled up the slope of the trench followed closely by Terry, Dan and Doc. The four began their long and dangerous trip back with this important information.

  Kelton yelled back.

  “At the very least, one of us has to get this information to the Command! Too many lives are at stake, understood?”

  “Understood” was the collective response as the men continued to run, crouched over ready to hit the deck.

  A star shell flew high into the sky! On the way to the German lines, their faces were toward the German guns and they could easily see the star shell being fired as it left a tracer before it burst into its brilliant light. On the way back to British lines, however, their backs were to the guns and they couldn’t see the telltale tracer. The shell burst into bright light and the four were plainly visible. They dove for the ground, but were followed by the familiar rattle of the German Maxim machine gun fire. The ground exploded around them as they scrambled to get into a shell hole as two more star shells arched into the sky. The front was now alive like an angry hornet’s nest. The British Vickers machine guns barked out their response to the German Maxim’s rattle. Stuck in the middle of this wild crossfire was the four man reconnaissance team, heads down and hoping for a lull in the action. Terry noticed first, Kelton, who had been cut and bruised was clutching his side and seemed to be in some agony.

  “Doc!” Terry yelled. “Kelton’s been hit!”

  George Cohen scrambled over to Kelton and said “Let me see what you’ve got!”

  Kelton released his blood soaked hands and Doc pulled his shirt up. In the dim light of the distant artillery flashes, Doc could see the wound. A bullet hole in his front right side, too low to hit a lung and too far to the right to catch the liver. George rolled him over to inspect his back. A clean exit wound which seemed to have missed the kidney, the blood was red not black.

  “You’re lucky” George said out loud, more to himself than to Kelton.

  The Colonel glared up at George “lucky would have been not getting shot!”

  Doc responded “I’ll need to get some pressure wraps on this wound to slow down the loss of blood.”

  Terry and Dan removed their leg puttees and shirts as Doc packed and wrapped Kelto
n’s side wounds.

  “Would you guys stop frigging around with me and get that information back to command, I’ll be fine.

  Terry said “Doc and I’ll go, Dan, you stay with the Colonel, get him out when able.”

  It was agreed upon and between the moments when one star shell hissed out, another was fired, the two leapt from shell hole to shell hole forging slowly, but steadily toward the British lines. They were past the danger tree and knew that the German fire would lessen, but there were still the snipers or the stray lucky machine gunshot, this was too important to get careless now! They continued hopping from crater to crater until finally they slid down the embankment of the British front trench.

  The two lay there for a few moments. They had made it and it took a few minutes to realize it.

  “We have to get this information to the Command and give the artillery the approximate position of Dan and the Colonel”.

  They bumped into the sentry that they had spoken to on their way out. It seemed like so long ago.

  “Where are the others?” he inquired.

  “About 200 yards out, just the other side of the danger tree. Colonel Kelton has been hit, one of our men is with him.”

  “I’ll say a prayer”. He responded as Terry and Doc trotted away.

  The artillery Commander was given the approximate position of the two trapped men and began working on a shell pattern to provide some relief and possibly an opportunity for escape.

  Major Henry Winsted was weighing up the information that had been passed on by Terry and Doc and seemed reluctant to accept their assessment of the German 1st line trench.

  “I’m quite certain that that cannot possibly be a correct observation. We have been bombarding that area for a week with the finest British cluster bombs which dispense of barbwire with relative ease.”

  “None-the-less the wire entanglement is fully intact.” Terry insisted.