The Unknown Soldier
By
Pella Douglas
The sun was close to the horizon and Hans thanked God that the night was near. He muttered the prayers of his childhood as he ran in the rapidly fading light. He would need to rest soon, but Hans wanted to keep running. He needed to keep running, heavy machine guns waited patiently for those who did not. The rest of his unit had found that out to their cost.
Recent memories came flooding back but he refused to acknowledge them. Holding back tears he pressed on through the barren landscape. Before long he stumbled into a valley that surrounded a small stream. The sight of the water urged him on but he approached it cautiously; easy paranoia warning him of mines, ambushes, snipers and worse. He edged his way carefully down to the bank of the stream, and when he reached the water without incident he allowed himself to relax slightly.
Dropping to his knees, he reached his cupped hands into the stream and brought them back up to his lips. The water rushed down his throat and Hans felt the cold branching out through his chest. He smiled a rare smile as the feeling spread along his tired and aching body. He eagerly reached for more only to let it fall back before he could take another sip.
Something strange had disturbed him.
It was a sound; quiet at first but growing louder and louder with each passing second. Hans grabbed his gun and took cover as it wheezed and groaned like a dying man. A flashing light appeared and then a large blue box followed it out of nowhere. Once it had materialized the world fell silent once more.
Hans could see now that it was a tall wooden hut with a lamp on the top of it. There was a sign above the door, it read: Police Public Call Box. Two figures stepped out of the hut. The first was a man dressed in a dark green frock coat; the second was a young woman. She had short blonde hair and was wearing some sort of steward's uniform. The hair and the outfit gave her a rather boyish appearance.
At first Hans was astounded, but he quickly let go of the feeling. Most likely these were Englander spies and their hut a new mode of transport. Not that it mattered much to him; all he wanted was some food and way out of here.
"So you have no idea where we are?" the girl was saying.
"Well, that's not exactly true," the man reassured her. "I do know that we're in Western Europe around the beginning of the twentieth century. I'd say France or maybe Belgium perhaps, definitely one of the two."
"What if we've landed in Passchendaele? It really wouldn't surprise me if we bumped into Uncle Jacques. Maybe I could warn him. You know, get him out of the way sort of thing."
"Charley, Charley, Charley," the man replied, "We're probably years away from the war. Personally, I'm rather hoping we've landed in the first decade; I have some fond memories of that period. I remember the spring of 1905 in Zurich, helping Einstein with one of his papers. On a new determination of molecular dimensions, I think it was. And did I ever tell you about the time that I met Mata Hari? Now she was a fantastic…"
Charley rolled her eyes.
"I suppose I should be grateful really," she said, ignoring him. "At least you didn't land the TARDIS on the deck of the Titanic."
"That's the spirit Charley. Come on, let's explore and find out exactly where we are."
"You were almost right Fräulein…Charley," Hans interrupted, his rifle covering both of them. "Passchendaele is about three miles in that direction and the further away the better."
"Ah," the man said sadly, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Thank you very much Doctor." Charley replied sarcastically.
"Remove your hands from you pockets immediately."
"I was only going to offer you a jelly baby," the Doctor said revealing a paper bag.
"Be quiet!" Hans said in what he hoped was a threatening manner, but then in a quieter tone he added, "Do you have anything to eat."
"Of course," the Doctor said mildly, "You can still have my jelly babies, but if you want something more substantial I'll just nip inside the TARDIS and..."
"Do you think I'm a fool?" Hans said. "I know this…this hut is your travelling machine. I saw it arrive. The girl can fetch what I need and if she tries any…"
"She won't I promise," the Doctor interrupted before turning to his companion, "Charley would you please do as this young man asks?"
Charley was obviously unhappy but began to move towards the TARDIS anyway. As she did so the Doctor turned his attention back to the soldier in front of him.
"Do you mind if I sit down while we wait?" he asked.
Hans granted his permission with a wave of his gun. The Doctor smiled and placed the bag on Jelly Babies between them.
"Just in case you change your mind," he said before sitting cross legged on the damp ground.
"What are Jelly Babies anyway?" Hans asked, curiosity overcoming his fear.
"Oh, they're just sweets," the Doctor replied with a shrug. "Try one."
Hans gingerly reached forward as if the sweets were an unexploded bomb. The Doctor smiled encouragingly as he picked one out of the bag and popped it into his mouth.
"See?"
"They're delicious!" Hans exclaimed.
"Yes, they are aren't they?" The Doctor laughed. "Go on, have another one."
As Hans reached forward to take another Jelly Baby, the Doctor peered closely at his features.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I'm sixteen." Hans replied a little too quickly.
"Fourteen more like. Let me guess, you were at school when the war started and you saw all those terribly brave men marching off to war with proud expressions on their faces. You couldn't wait to join them."
"It wasn't like that at all."
But his face said differently. Beneath the grit and the grime his cheeks slowly began to flush.
"I think it was," the Doctor continued. "A few years past and the Kaiser became desperate. The officials started taking anyone and you saw your opportunity to be man didn't you? But what happened next I wonder?"
The Doctor's questions opened up old wounds and Hans could see himself almost year ago, feeling proud as he put on his uniform for the first time. And then there was that time on the firing range, his instructors congratulating him on his superb marksmanship. On the training grounds he had felt like a hero of old, screaming with primal rage as he charged a straw dummy with his bayonet affixed to his rifle.
The real war had been nothing like that.
"Why don't you tell me about it?" The Doctor insisted.
But Hans was reticent.
It wasn't deliberate; the words just would not come. He had refused to face what had happened for so long now, that it was almost impossible for him to talk about it. There was an understanding in the Doctor's demeanour as he waited patiently for the boy to speak.
"I…I tripped," Hans replied eventually.
That quiet admission seemed to take all of the boy's strength. His expression lay somewhere between grief, horror and self-loathing. The Doctor nodded gravely, encouraging Hans to tell his story.
"We hadn't been at the front for very long. The weather was miserable and the rain poured down. It was very cold, but as much as the others complained, I loved every minute of it."
"Yes, I can imagine your excitement and the feeling of being all grown up."
Hans did not acknowledge the Doctor's words. Now that he had started to speak, he found that he could not stop.
"Mother was scared to death when she found out, of course. Her letters pleaded with me to tell the officers my real age and come home, but I couldn't understand why. I mean yes, we traded a few shots with the Englanders, but mostly we played cards, sang marching songs and avoided the daily aerial bombardments. There was nothing to it. And besides, the officers knew exactly how old I was."
He paused for a moment to catch his breath.
"Everything changed on the seventh of June," he continued. "The Englanders came at us in a massive attack. They threw everything they had at us, but we stood firm and they gained very little. The next day we were ordered to counter-attack. I was terrified, but the Captain patted me on the back and reminded me how easily we had pushed the Englanders back. That's all I really needed, a little reassurance. I knew we would be alright then, his confidence was so…so…"
"Inspiring?"
"Yes, that's it. His confidence was so inspiring. Anyway, dawn broke and we prepared for the big push. By eight we stood ready at the ladders, then at half past the whistle blew and we were off. We scrambled out of our trench, but the ground was like a swamp. Running was nearly impossible and I began to fall behind everyone else. I tried to catch them up, but I slipped in the mud and my boot got caught on some barbed wire. I… I… called out and the rest of my unit came back to help me…they we're laughing gaily…and that's when the Englanders opened fire."
He could see it all so clearly in his mind now.
He watched in horror as his friends were cut apart by bullets, blood mixing with rain as their lifeless bodies fell to earth. He had been so paralysed with fright that he had been unable to turn away from the slaughter. He watched in slow motion as each man died. There was Franz, good old Franz; he had sung all of the marching songs with a passion that bordered on fervour. His voice sang only of death now as he screamed in agony. The dead eyes of Corporal Biermann stared accusingly at him, as if to say that if Hans had not tripped none this would have happened. He watched both of the Eichel brothers fall; Karl was cut down as he tried to reach his fallen brother, Rudi. And it went on and on and on…
"It's all my fault!" Hans cried.
His tears fell to the ground unnoticed and his hands were shaking, causing his rifle to bob up and down in front of the Doctor's face.
The Doctor let the boy cry, allowing him to get it out of his system.
"And you've been running ever since, haven't you?" he said when the worst was over.
Hans nodded.
"You don't need that you know," the Doctor said, pointing at the rifle. "We're not going to hurt you."
Hans reluctantly lowered the gun.
"What's taking the girl so long?" he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"It's a lot bigger on the inside than it looks."
Charley emerged from the TARDIS carrying a plate of cooked meats, cheese, and bread. Hans stepped forward and reached greedily for the food. He stuffed it into his mouth whilst the Doctor looked on.
Charley kept her expression neutral.
She was thinking about Uncle Jacques. Before the war he had been a concert pianist but Passchendaele had put an end to his career. He had lost his arm when a shell had exploded in his trench.
Whilst inside the TARDIS she had taken the Neutron Ram from the Doctor's tool box. Now she eased it from its hiding place inside her tunic. Preparing herself to spring, she tried not to alert the German soldier in front of her. But Hans was not paying her any attention; he was happily eating the food she had provided from the TARDIS kitchen.
She pushed aside any thoughts of Uncle Jacques, refusing to admit the reasoning behind her actions. This was their chance. All they had to do was overpower the boy and they could be on their way again. The Doctor turned in her direction as if to say something. He saw what she was planning immediately.
"Charley, no!" he cried out.
Hans looked up as Charley raised the Neutron Ram above her head. He went for his discarded weapon, his sticky fingers finding the trigger. The shot echoed around the walls of the valley and caused the Doctor and Charley to dive in opposite directions.
Hans got his feet. He knew that he only had four bullets left in the magazine of his Mauser, but it was more than enough to deal with Fräulein Charley and her friend, the Doctor. He knew that he should never have trusted them. Why had he? But the Doctor had been so kind, was it all really just a ruse to distract him? He stood holding his rifle unsure of what to do next.
And then the decision was made for him.
Alerted by the sound of the gunshot, Machine gunners began to rain death on the little valley. Hans did not stand a chance; his silhouette was surrounded by a halo of light from the TARDIS and he died looking directly into Charley's eyes.
As the machine guns ceased their fire the Doctor took his cue. He grabbed Charley roughly and flung her through the doorway of The TARDIS before joining her. A second volley of shots came ringing through the air. This time, however, none found their mark. The Doctor slammed the door shut and walked wearily to the central console. He pulled on a cord above him and a monitor descended on its scissor-spring. After a few seconds of adjusting the controls the Doctor found what he was looking for: The broken body of Hans.
"What did you do that for?" he demanded. "He was only a child."
"I was trying to help." Charley said defiantly.
The Doctor shook his head. "I'd already persuaded him to put the gun down."
"Well I didn't realise that."
The look that the Doctor gave Charley was sceptical, but he let it pass.
"He shouldn't even have been there," he said instead.
"No-one should have been there. Not him, not us and not Uncle Jacques."
"Was that a Freudian slip?"
Charley bit her lip, realising her mistake.
For a moment it looked like he was going to say something more, but instead the Doctor took one last look at the screen before slipping the TARDIS back into the space-time vortex. With his attention diverted elsewhere he never saw the tears of guilt streaming silently down Charley's face.
There was a long moment of silence between them.
"I didn't even know his name." the Doctor said after a while. "And now he's just one more unknown soldier lying dead on the fields of Passchendaele."