Angels at Mons

by Carl Leckey

  Bloody crackpot has leaves and twigs all over him as camouflage. He would have got himself shot only we were under orders to hold our fire. About five of our lads jumped on him and kicked the shit out of him.

  The daft sod turns out to be English head case from your mob playing at soldiers. Then he is followed by your mate the Corporal and he only bleedin surrenders to us, first two English prisoners I have ever taken. Ha- ha!”

  Relief washes over me when I realise they are in British hands and still alive. “But where are they now?” I enquire. ’

  “Oh, they will be here shortly, the medics are patching up your mate after our lads gave him a good seeing to. I think he’s got a broken nose and a few other minor injuries, not enough to keep him out of action though.

  Intelligence has questioned them, the last I heard they are trying to get orders where they, and I suppose you must go now.”

  I ask a further question. “I know this might seem stupid to you, but where exactly are we Sarg? We are supposed to be in a place called the Somme or something like that.”

  “Well you’re not far off lad we were in this position three days ago, we had orders to withdraw and the Huns advanced. Then for some reason they retreated and we chased after them, I reckon we are about back where we started. This Bloody war doesn’t make any sense at all. I’ve given up trying to figure out what those stupid buggers in HQ are about.”

  Transport begins to arrive, leading the convoy are two Staff cars.

  “Right lads, on your feet, the brass is here. That’s the end of the picnic now it’s back to work for us.” The Sergeant orders us to follow him to find a site for the latrines. Oscar is left in the charge of the interpreter.

  “He’ll do us more good by teaching our lad to speak better German than digging. I don’t think he’s got a good dig in him.” The Sergeant has noticed Oscar’s thin emasculated body.

  We are issued with shovels and set to work digging the usual latrine trenches, with instructions to dig a bigger hole some distance away from the milking parlour. This puzzled Dave and I as we had never seen a latrine hole in a circular shape. We debate the reason for the big hole until the driver overhears and explains.

  “It’s not a shit hole you daft buggers didn’t you hear what the SM said it’s for bits and pieces.”

  “What did he mean when he said for bits and pieces? Bits and pieces of what?” Dave enquires.

  “Bodies! You bloody idiot, bits of bodies. You know? Legs, arms, arseholes. It will be filled with whatever the saw bones cuts off the poor buggers when they get their bloody hands on em.

  They are chucked into the hole then the lot is covered over with quick lime, they rot away quicker with a dose of that stuff on em. Don’t you daft buggers know nowt about war, what do you think they do with the leftovers?”

  We shake our heads in bewilderment having never considered this aspect of warfare.

  ‘The driver continues revealing the more gruesome details of the war. ‘I was delivering to one of the front line hospital just after a big battle, as I drove along the road I noticed the stray dogs were fat rascals. Not the usual abandoned half-starved poor mongrels you see on the front abandoned by their owners. I stopped to have a look what a big dog was eating it’s only a human leg the bastard is gnawing on. Eh! Would you believe? The leg is only still wearing a boot, I remember thinking at the time, that fella’s going to be in the shit for losing some of his equipment.’ He laughs as he sees the horror on our faces.

  ‘When I arrive at the hospital it’s in chaos, the saw bones are up to their knees in blood guts and shit. They were doing so many operations on casualties they just flung the bits and pieces outside the tent onto a bloody great heap. The half-wild dogs were nipping in and grabbing some of the tastier bits.’

  I began gagging much to his amusement. Although I have heard enough of his gruesome story I have remain to hear the end.

  ‘You see, there was nobody left to bury them, all the lads that usually did the burying had been sent to the front line. Jesus! What a nightmare that day. Hope I never see the likes of that again, ah! But I suppose we will before this one is over.’

  Dave and I are horrified at the information he gives us, especially when the truth dawns we are now stationed in a front line hospital. The driver remains quiet for a while, then shakes his head in disgust and confesses the story he related refreshed some hideous memories.

  As we dig he became really annoyed and continually moans about his lot at being used as a labourer.

  The rest of us urge him to protest to the Sergeant, Toot is really getting on our nerves. After an hour he’s has enough of the digging, Toot complains to the Sergeant when he appears to check on our progress.

  “It’s not right Sarg, I’m a specialist driver not a bloody navvy, I’m not a hostilities only bod playing at soldiering. I’m a regular with ten years service and shouldn’t be treated like a sprog, what about my ambulance? It can’t just be left alone. The bloody thing needs continuous servicing. Especially after the treatment it’s had since I picked up these daft buggers.” He indicates us.

  I get really mad when he refers to us in this manner. He hasn’t done much digging anyway spending most of the time moaning smoking and keeping an eye out for anyone in authority.

  The Sergeant listens sympathetically then replies.

  “You know you’re right.” The driver begins to climb out of the half finished hole we are working in, a smile of relief on his face.

  The Sergeant waves him back. “When you’ve finished this job you can go and service your vehicle ok?”

  Toot slumps back into the hole muttering to himself, he is completely dejected. The Sergeant chuckles as he strolls away.

  It is about then that Billy appears. We have just about finished on the big hole when Dave spots him approaching on a horse drawn supply wagon his face is adorned with a large dressing across his nose. Poor old Billy looks really dishevelled with his uniform ripped in a few places. Painfully he climbs off the wagon and approaches us.

  Were we glad to see him? The first question I ask him is. “Where’s the Corp?”

  Billy snarls a reply. “Bloody-Hell! Scouse, You haven’t even asked me how I got wounded and your asking about a bloody NCO, it shows me where your loyalties lay.”

  “Ah! Come on Bill. We were worried about both of you. Someone told us you have been shot as spies. Go on then tell us how you got wounded.”

  I do my best to placate my angry mate. We finish the hole hopefully to the Sergeant’s satisfaction and climb out onto the surrounding grass and flop down. It has been a busy day so far and we are absolutely knackered, the driver seizes his opportunity to escape and tossing his shovel in Billy’s direction he grunts.

  “I believe this is rightfully yours?” He begins heading towards his vehicle when he has second thoughts, Toot stops in his tracks and returns.

  “I’ll be over at the ambulance if anyone wants me. Yes ha, carrying out the Sergeant’s orders. Bit of advice for you lads, I would stay here if I were you three. Don’t go looking for more work and don’t volunteer for anything. There will be plenty to do when the casualties start coming in, keep out of sight, but look busy if anyone approaches you. I’m not hanging around to listen to his bullshit.” He nods towards Billy. “I’ve seen and heard enough crap since I’ve been in the Army.” He hastens away to his beloved vehicle.

  Billy, upset by the remark evidently aimed at him enquires, “what’s up with him then?”

  Dave replies. “He’s not having a good day. The poor sod thinks he’s above a bit of hard manual work.”

  We lie sharing smokes behind the heap of loose earth for a while yarning and listening to Billy’s exaggerated tale of heroism. Dave is appointed lookout and faces the farmhouse direction keeping an eye out for any one in authority, suddenly he lets out a yell of pleasure.

  “Eh! Lads look whose here?” Dave jumps to his feet and begins walking away from us towards our Corporal. We leap up and gath
er around the corporal pumping him for information. He puts his hands up in an attempt to quell our questions. “Later lads I’ll tell you all about it, but first things first, I have some fresh orders, we are officially assigned to this hospital, that includes,” he pauses and looks around. “Where is he? Where is the driver Toot. He’s also been assigned along with his ambulance to this station.” I volunteer against all the advice given by the old soldiers. “I’ll go get him Corp he’s over with the ambulance, he ain’t gonna like it though, he’s expecting to go back to the port to rejoin his own mob.”

  The Corporal advises. “Well you don’t have to mention what’s happening, I’ve written orders for him, he can see them himself, off you go hurry up and bring him lad. I’ve got some important orders for the rest of us. By the way, where is Oscar?”

  I head off leaving Dave explaining what has happened to us since he and Billy began their scouting trip this morning.

  On my way to fetch Toot I have to pass Oscar still talking to the interpreter. He jumps to his feet when he sees me approaching.

  I inform him, “Hey Oscar the Corporal is back and asking your whereabouts.”

  “I will go to see him right away?” Oscar replies.

  The interpreter looks uncomfortable at his intention. “You’ve been left in my charge. Nobody said anything about you leaving here. I think you better stay with me until I get different orders. If you do a runner I’ll be in deep shit with Black Mac.”

  Oscar returns to his seat on a barrel obviously upset at the interpreter’s suggestion that he might escape. “You know me friend I will not break my parole, please will you notify the Corporal I am glad he has returned unharmed. I should really like to see him again in case I am moved away from here. I wish to thank him and his men for their kindness.” Oscar emphasises this last part in a very pointed manner.

  Chapter five

  Orders

  I return accompanied by Toot and we form a circle around the Corporal. “Right lads here are our orders. Toot here is a written set of orders from HQ for you.” The Corporal hands him a sealed envelope.

  “OK lads. This farm has been designated as a forward casualty dressing station. We are to remain here as part of the permanent Staff, you will be pleased to know we have all been seconded to the Royal Army Medical Corp until further notice.

  The Sarg and our Colonel with the other ambulance are due any time now. The Colonel will be the commanding Officer of the unit. You will like this part, the Colonel is very pleased because it is his men that gets credit for finding this excellent site for the hospital.”

  “Bloody Hell, just my luck.” The driver has opened his envelope and read his orders. He is obviously not pleased with the contents. He repeats.

  “Just my bloody luck.” The Corporal invites him to share his good fortune with the rest of us.

  “Looks like I’m stuck with you blokes. I can’t believe it I’m stuck here in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of sprogs. There is only one consolation at least there will be another one of my mob with me.”

  “Ah, never mind Toot you can give these lads the benefit of your wisdom. These lads will need someone with your experience to get em through this lot.” The Corporal’s appreciation of his knowledge appears to brighten Toot up and he asks a question. “Will I be going up to the front line for casualties Corp?”

  “Not according to my orders.” The Corporal explains. “There is a rail siding about three miles away. You will be shunting casualties that have been first treated from here to railway. I don’t think they want to risk the motor ambulances in the front line, eh! But you know how things change in the Army?”

  The driver appears satisfied when he receives this information.

  “Now for the rest of us, the Scots lads will be moving out later today. I am hoping the medics should be here by then. We are to assist the medics by doing general duties. In fact anything they won’t do will be our responsibility.”

  Billy interrupts. “Hey Corp, will there be nurses, you know women nurses will they be coming here?”

  The Corporal laughs. “Nice one Bill, pity I can’t answer that. The trouble is I really don’t know, it would be tasty though if we do get some nice looking women around here. It would be better than looking on your ugly mugs day after day. Ha-ha. But let me warn you lot, if female nurses do arrive here they are strictly out of bounds for us lads. Officers comforts they will be, not for the likes of thee and me I’m afraid.”

  “What about our billets, where do we kip Corp and what will be happening to Oscar?”

  Before the Corporal answers Dave moans. “Don’t forget food, I’m bloody starving. These Scotch sods have hardly fed us since they came here. We’ve just have some shitty porridge this morning. That’s all they gave us to eat. The tight buggers we didn’t even get a bit of bread.”

  Good old Dave, the munching mouth, belly, Billy christened him in training when he was always hungry.

  “Right, I’ll answer all your questions now. First we will be in tents. The Scots lads have put them up for us located in those trees over yonder. I suppose we can please ourselves if we want to move them later, but the trees should give good cover from the Boche spotter planes.

  Anyway no matter where we put them the tent lines will have to be handy to the casualties. Food! Well some cooks have already arrived on the transport I bummed a lift on. They will cook for the Officers, patients, and I presume us, so we should get some decent tucker. But, and here is the good news Dave, there is a meal being cooked by the Scots for us, I believe it is almost ready.” Dave groans, his belly rules his life.

  This time I interrupt the Corporal I had forgotten to tell him what Oscar said.

  ‘That reminds me Corp, I saw him when I went to fetch the driver; he really wants to see you. I got the impression he wants to see you urgently.’

  ‘Right I’ll see him as soon as sort things out, go and get your gear and find the tents, you lucky chaps can have the pick before the others arrive. Mark a good one out for the Sarg. That will be mine at the end of the line. If you want me I’ll be in there sorting my gear out, I might have a kip later, hey Scouse give me a shout when the rest of the transport arrives? Don’t forget to head for the cookhouse and get some chuck when the bugle sounds, I think this is the last peaceful day we shall have casualties will begin to arrive in earnest tomorrow I reckon.”

  As if to emphasise the fact another barrage of heavy guns thunders not too far away.

  We select our tents in the trees, they are brand new. The Scots lads have done a great job at choosing the site which is far better than the previous camp. There is no mud to contend with as the area is higher than the surrounding fields, and thankfully the ground is bone dry.

  “We shall have to scrounge some wood to make a floor if we are going to be stuck in this place very long, especially over winter.” Billy points out.

  “Hey Bill.” I remonstrate with him. “We won’t be here for winter, we will be home for Christmas so everyone reckons.”

  Billy sniggers his contempt at this old news. This is what the papers have been optimistically promising since the beginning of the war three long years ago.

  We pick a tent for the Sergeant near the Corporals, at Toots suggestion we select a larger one for the rest of us some distance away from the NCOs tents. “You don’t want NCOs breathing down your necks lads take my word for it.” The tasks complete we make our way the cook-house area when the bugle sounds. Come to the Cook house door boys. We have to laugh at Dave, every time he hears the bugle call he sings along. Food definitely rules his life.

  What a difference in the choice of food from this morning’s pathetic offerings of the dreaded salt laced porridge.

  Only a handful of soldiers have arrived carrying their mess tins ready to eat. We are first in line, wonder of wonders. A mixture of cooks Scots and English confront us at the tables. It looks to us as if they have competed with each other preparing the meal. We don’t care as long as we are the ben
eficiaries of the banquet confronting them

  Dave gives a whoop of joy as he spots the piles of fresh bread heaped on a trestle table. This is indeed a wonderful luxury, a change from hard tack and two or three day old bread often-mouldy stuff we have experienced in the past.

  The aroma wafting about has our mouths watering, we are invited to take as much as we want by the Sergeant in charge.

  Another thing that pleases us the food is not all piled together in our mess tins we are invited to have the courses separately.

  Thick brown soup is the first item on offer. “Soup Windsor” one of the proud cooks informs us. “Fit for a king.” He adds as he ladles it into our mess tins.

  Cabbage, corned beef, sausages, heaps of mashed and fried potatoes with a few different vegetables completes the main meal. Dave is in his element, I don’t believe he would have swapped this excellent tucker for a week’s home leave.

  It is all yummy we are delighted, and congratulate the cooks on their endeavours.

  Proudly they present their piece de resistance. Jam rolly polly pudding. Mmmm! The thick hot jam oozed out of the scrumptious suet duff, topped by wonderfully smooth custard.

  After finishing the outstanding feast we had slumped onto piles of hay to recuperate, when our Colonel and Black Mac appear engrossed in deep conversation as they approach.

  We leap to our feet and salute the Officer, the Colonel waves us to resume our seats.

  Black Mac roars, “You horrible men don’t you know you don’t salute an Hofficers when you haven’t got your hats on?”

  None of us choose to answer his question. We shuffle our feet in embarrassment. Our training has taught us to stand to attention when being addressed by a superior, and here we are being told to remain seated.

  He gives a satisfied smirk, salutes the Officer and smartly marches away, as if he were on a parade ground in Blighty.

  “Did you enjoy your meal men?” The Colonel inquires. We enthuse our response. “I believe you chaps have quite an adventure on your way here? HQ is quite impressed that you have advanced so far without support. This is an excellent location for a casualty clearing station and you also took an enemy prisoner, you my lads have been mentioned in high places.”