June 12, 1916
The sounds of distant - but not constant - machine gun fire could be heard even from behind the lines. No offensive action was underway at the moment, but that did not stop the gun crews of either side from taking shots at each other. The British with their Vickers', the Germans with their Maxims'. The war never stopped for even a second.
Ector sighed deeply at the useless futility of it all. This was not the first war he had seen, but never before had he seen something as reckless or stupid as this one.
As the staff car he was riding in continued onward, Ector could see the reserve units marching by. Fresh-faced lads, more than half of them not yet in their twenties. He wondered how much longer they had for this world. The thought was enough to disturb his very being.
The car pulled to a halt, and Kay turned off the engine. The both of them exited the automobile and headed towards Division Headquarters just ahead of them.
Ector removed the coat from atop his uniform, and the moment he did Kay took it into his arms.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Ector told his son as he straightened his uniform.
"Of course, Colonel," Kay addressed his father, "Shall I accompany you?"
"No need," Ector said, "See what you can scrounge from the Commissary, our ration supply is dwindling. Also, be sure to check about our reserve of homing pigeons, and stop by to check in on our wounded as well."
"Yes, sir," Kay complied, and headed off in the opposite direction, leaving Ector alone outside of Division Headquarters. He took a deep breath before entering.
He passed by the sentries who stood at attention and the clerk who motioned him to head to the basement. Ector did so, and soon enough he found himself in the company of his fellow battalion commanders as well as the commanders of the 113th, 114th, and 115th Brigades.
Ector looked over in the direction of Leondegrance, and gave him an inquisitive look wondering what this meeting was to be about. But from the look on his face, it appeared Leondegrance did not know any more than Ector appeared to.
Ector next looked over to Urien Rheged, the Colonel of the 14th Royal Welsh Fusiliers attached to the 113th Brigade. Unlike Leondegrance however, Urien's expression looked stoic and judgmental as he made eye contact with Ector. He rarely saw eye-to-eye with those equal to him in rank, and for the life of him Ector could not determine why.
The whole room stood to attention as Major General Ivor Philipps entered the room.
"As you were, gentlemen," Philipps answered their salutes and made his way over to the table in the center of the room, with a large map of the sector the 38th Welsh occupied as well as outlying regions.
"A thousand pardons for not calling this meeting to order sooner," Philipps began, "but since the passing of His Majesty, God rest his soul, there has been some... reorganization on the part of our strategy."
Philipps motioned for the brigade commanders to come closer. Ector and the other battalion commanders stepped forward behind them.
"The time has come, gentleman. Our orders come directly from General Horne, who received explicit instruction from General Haig himself," Philipps continued, "The British Expeditionary Force, with the support of our French allies, are going to smash right through the German lines along the Somme River and put an end to this war. And the 38th Welsh will have the honor and the privilege of being the tip of the spear."
There was a moment of silence as everyone in the room began to comprehend Philipps' words.
"XV Corps will primarily be concentrated in these sectors," Philipps said as he pointed to locations on the map, "The 17th and 21st Divisions are tasked with taking the fortified German positions at Mametz and Fricourt, respectively. Once Fricourt is captured, the 7th Division will move up to assist the 21st in clearing out the nearby forest area. Our job will be to cover the Eastern flank of the 17th as they capture Mametz and relieve them if need be, and subsequently clear out Mametz Wood. Once both the Fricourt and Mametz forests have been cleared, all four divisions will move up to support the next phase of our operation - the capture of Bazentin Ridge. Instructions on our actual assault at Bazentin will shortly follow. Any questions?"
"Yes sir," came the voice of Brigadier General H.J. Evans, commander of the 115th Brigade and Ector's CO, "What do we know about the Boche defenses at Mametz?"
"Our observation planes have determined that a regiment of 3,000 occupy the village and its outskirts. We are unaware as to which regiment this is, but we have a possible fix on four to twenty machine guns forming a defensive perimeter. We do not believe they have access to field artillery or chemicals-"
"Forgive me, sir," Leondegrance suddenly interrupted, and Philipps looked up from his map to stare the Lieutenant Colonel in the face with much scrutiny, "but four to twenty machine guns is a very substantial gap in assessment. If we are to proceed with this attack, we should properly know what the enemy's strength is."
"We will proceed, Colonel Carmelide, for those are our orders," Philipps responded with a hint of arrogance in his voice, "and next time you feel the sudden urge to speak your mind and interrupt a superior officer, I expect you will ask permission beforehand."
Leondegrance gulped, and Philipps resumed going over his map, his subordinate generals intensely scrutinizing his strategy. Ector looked over to Urien, who merely gave him a stone cold look before lightly shaking his head.
"For this attack to have any chance to succeed," one of the other generals spoke to Philipps, "we will need artillery support. A creeping barrage if possible."
"And we shall have it," Philipps told him, "General Haig plans to unleash such a barrage beginning on the 24th and continuing for the next five days leading up to the beginning of the assault on the 29th..."
Ector remained silent, but only because he had internally panicked and shut down. July 29th? That was just a little over two weeks away. Most of the men of the 38th had never seen combat on such a scale before as Philipps had described. There were shortages of supplies and the territory they were to capture was deep behind enemy lines. To top it off, Philipps did not even have a full assessment of German strength. How many men? From what unit? How many machine guns? Artillery pieces? Fortifications? Are they wooden dugouts or concrete pillboxes? And what was the situation in Mametz Wood?
Ector knew this next battle would be a bloodbath, and the blame would lie with incompetent commanders like Philipps and others as much as the Germans. But he dared not vocalize his thoughts, at least out of turn like Leondegrance had.
"General Evans," Philipps spoke again, "The 115th Brigade will be at the forefront of our deployment. You will advance quickly across this point, free of craters and debris and such, before reaching the outskirts of Mametz Wood, where you will be sufficiently covered as you commence your attack."
"General, permission to speak freely," Evans said once Philipps had finished, then Philipps replied, "Granted."
"This is madness," Evans stated, and Philipps was taken aback by his subordinate's declaration.
"Elaborate," Philipps replied stiffly.
"This open area here that the Division will have to cross?" Evans continued, "It is more than a mile in length. Not only will the men be exhausted by the time they get to the outskirts of Mametz Wood, they will also be totally exposed as they charge across and provide easy targets for the enemy. As for speed, you're relying on the certainty that adverse weather does not affect the terrain. And assuming that there are men left by the time they reach the Wood, the trees themselves will no doubt have already been incorporated into the German defense plan. So rather than cover for our troops as they advance, they will cover the Germans instead. In short, this battle will be over before it begins."
"Are you finished?" Philipps questioned, seemingly unperturbed by Evans' brutal assessment. Evans kept silent, and then Philipps continued, "The fact of the matter is that with the artillery support and the 17th Division on our left, we will advance and capture Mametz Wood. The degree to which we are successful will depend entirely on how you Welchers conduct yourself, but the battle plan is sound and I will not acquiesce to deviation. We have our orders, and His Majesty King Edward will have his victory to lift us out of this darkness."
Ector had to restrain himself from mouthing off out of turn, as did Leondegrance. In fact, most of the officers in this room (including Urien, much to Ector's surprise) looked uneasily tense at Philipps' proclamation, especially Evans. Philipps' dismissing of the dangers before them and the disregard he had for the Welsh troops was appalling, but in their minds they expected nothing less from a high-born English officer.
Knowing that Philipps' bullheadedness would continue on with this plan anyway, none of the officer's provided any input for the rest of the meeting. They quietly listened to Philipps' stratagem and deployments until each man understood his role. Shortly thereafter, Philipps' ended the meeting and dismissed everyone.
Ector hoped that he had finally found common ground with Urien, but he brushed right past him out of Division Headquarters and made for his staff car. As Ector watched Urien be driven away back toward the front, Leondegrance came to stand alongside him and opened up his cigarette case.
"So..." Leondegrance said as he lit up a smoke, "that went well."
"You don't say?" Ector replied stiffly.
"You know, I don't blame the General," Leondegrance said, "He's just following standard military procedure; obtain a victory for England with the blood of the Welsh."
"At this point, I don't think we need an added level of callousness for our own men," Ector replied, "but I agree, Philipps has no clue what he is doing. Our lads are just that - lads. They're going to be charging right into Hell and have no idea how to do it."
"Well, that's what we're here for, right?" Leondegrance offered, "We need to find a way to get in and clear Mametz without killing all the lads. The creeping barrage is promising, but there's still a risk. The 115th will be at the center of it all, so how should we proceed?"
"One thing at a time, Leon," Ector responded, "We need to see to the men, first and foremost. We will need time to resupply; food, medicines, ammunition. We need to check on the replacements. And we haven't much time to do it."
"I'll see to my battalion," Leondegrance said as he finished his cigarette, "You better see to yours."
With that, Leondegrance stood to attention and saluted Ector. Ector answered it, and Leondegrance took off back towards where the 10th SWB were stationed, leaving Ector alone. He stood next to the staff car he arrived in, waiting for when Kay would return.
There were a lot of things Kay had grown accustomed to since arriving in France. The stench of the Division Hospital was not one of them.
He passed by the wounded and infirm. Some were lucky enough to simply have dysentery. Others were blind, deaf, missing limbs, or otherwise mangled by the chaos of war. Even those not as mutilated cried out in pain as the surgeons attended to their wounds. He wondered just how many more from the 38th alone would end up here.
As Kay continued to walk through the aisles of wounded and dying men, he tried to keep his eyes open for any from the 38th who may be ready to return to the trenches. It was not a task he took pride in, but one he did nevertheless.
Then, as he was perusing the hospital, he heard a nurse's voice call out, "The bleeding isn't stopping!"
Kay paused a moment. He knew that voice.
"Keep pressure on his arm right there," a more authoritative voice spoke up, likely the head nurse, "Tie it off to cut circulation."
"Alright," the nurse's voice sounded again, before being interrupted by sounds of pain, "Hey, hey... calm down. Breathe. It's going to be alright. Good news is you're not going to lose the arm, the bullet went through clean. I'm going to give you some chloroform for the pain."
Kay definitely knew that voice. Was that... Could it be...?
He rounded the corner from where he was to the source of the voice, and saw her administering chloroform to a wounded soldier with the head nurse standing over her. She was in a bloodied nurse's uniform, but there was no mistaking her for anyone else.
"Gwen?" Kay said aloud in shock, causing her to gasp and quickly turn to look at him.
"Kay!" Gwen nearly shouted as she suddenly stood up at the sight of him, "I mean, er... Lieutenant. This is most surprising-"
"What on Earth are you doing here?" Kay asked, but before Gwen could answer, the head nurse replied, "Lieutenant, this is a hospital. Whatever business you have with my staff, I'm sure it can wait until-"
"I'm here under orders from Lieutenant-Colonel Carmelide to bring his daughter to him," Kay stated plainly, ignoring the look of shock on Gwen's face, "I will return her shortly. Now come along, Nurse Carmelide."
The head nurse sighed, then said, "Very well, fine. But please make it brief if you can, Guinevere, we're shorthanded as it is."
Speechless, Gwen hesitantly followed Kay out of the immediate area, then stopped a moment so she could wash the fresh blood from her hands at a nearby sink. Kay was patient and silent as she cleaned herself. After she finished, he motioned for her to follow, and then the both of them were concealed in one of the hospital's alcoves.
"Kay, I thought you said that my father wanted to see me-" Gwen began, but Kay interrupted her by saying in a fierce whisper, "I made that up so I could talk to you in private. Now, I will ask again: what the hell are you doing here!?"
"I volunteered for the Nursing Service," Gwen stated plainly, taken aback by Kay's sudden anger, "What else does it look like?"
"I can see that you volunteered, but why? Why here?" Kay asked, his temper increasing steadily.
"Because this is where I am most needed," Gwen responded coolly, "Look around you, these men need tending to, and-"
"You could've done the same exact thing at a hospital further back behind the lines, or even back home if you wanted to," Kay was fuming, "but for whatever reason you chose frontline service? What's the matter with you?"
"I made a choice, same as you, same as my father, and same as Arthur. This war affects all of us, in case you weren't already aware. If it wasn't me coming here, then it was somebody else. I'm here to do my duty and with any luck maybe bring some sanity to all this chaos," Gwen stated proudly, growing tired of Kay's talking down to her, but Kay simply put a hand over his eyes and shook his head.
"I'm an officer, Gwen. Your father and my father. We didn't have a choice in all this. And as for Arthur, you know he-" Kay began before pausing, the realization clicking inside his head.
"It's Arthur," Kay stated without any doubt in his mind, "That's why you're here."
"What? No," Gwen began, "No, that's not why I'm-"
"You volunteered to be near the front in order to be close to Arthur," Kay said, "Why else would you volunteer for service at Division Headquarters? It wouldn't be to be near your father, he'd want to keep you away as far as possible from any of this. No, you are here for Arthur. I can understand you missing him, but this is not the place to-"
"Oh sod off," Gwen interrupted Kay this time, "Yes, I did volunteer to serve at Headquarters here so I could be near people I knew and trusted. Arthur, my father, you... but if none of you were here I still would have volunteered for the front. I know the risks, I understand perfectly well how close to the danger this is. And that is why I am here. Like I said before, if it wasn't me it was somebody else. Me? I want to give people the care they need the moment they need it and not wait for them to be shipped by the truckload to Paris or London or wherever. For some of those people it's already too late. But here, maybe I can make a difference. Maybe there still exists some Christian goodwill in this world despite you and the Germans tearing each other to pieces like animals."
Kay stood silent as he listened to what Gwen had to say.
"If you're thinking of getting me transferred, you needn't worry. Father already knows I'm here, and though he is naturally worried, he knows me. He knows I'm not just going to up and leave when we're needed most," Gwen explained.
"But... if Leondegrance knew you were here, then how come he hasn't told us before?" Kay asked.
"Because he knew, as well as I, that you would react just as you did just now," Gwen stated, crossing her arms, "And it's for this reason I would appreciate you not telling Arthur about me. Not yet at least. He has enough to worry about without adding me into the mix."
Kay took a deep breath as he processed her words.
"Fine, I won't tell him, but there will come a time soon where he'll know. Are you prepared for that?" Kay asked seriously.
"I am," Gwen said, and then she hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "How is he, by the way?"
"Arthur?" Kay began, "Last I checked, he was doing well."
June 14, 1916
Arthur was drowning in the mud. He tried to free his head, but the German soldier pressing him down into it wouldn't let go. His lungs screamed for air but he himself could do nothing as the German pressed his knee onto the back of his neck.
It had been an unexpected and sudden attack by the enemy trench. After a brief fifteen minute bombardment, German troops had advanced from their trenches and had caused a breach in the Welsh lines. Every man jack of them was engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat. At least, that's all Arthur could assume since there was no one stopping the German that was moments away from killing him.
But suddenly, Arthur felt the pressure release from his neck, and immediately he lifted his head up and took in a big gulp of air. He started breathing heavily, then looked up to the cloudy sky, momentarily thinking that he was going to be arriving at the Gates of Heaven. But he wasn't, and he thanked God for sparing him for at least a few more moments.
Arthur looked to his right, and there he saw the German soldier that had nearly killed him being beaten with the stock of Gawain's rifle. Gawain had a fury in his eyes as he bashed the German's skull in.
This was not the first time Arthur had seen something like this, but being faced with the prospect of his own demise a moment ago followed by his would-be killer being killed himself... well, he didn't know what to think.
"Arthur! Get up! We're being overrun!" Gawain called out, and suddenly the sounds of the battle were clear as day in Arthur's head. He could hear everyone shouting, he could hear gunshots being fired, he could even hear the sounds of the bayonets, clubs, and shovels making contact with human flesh. It was a cacophony of violence and madness.
He saw a German soldier with his bayonet fixed charging behind Gawain. On instinct, Arthur picked up an SMLE rifle from a fallen comrade, pulled back the bolt, chambered in another round, and quickly aimed and fired at the man behind him. The shot was accurate, and the German collapsed onto the ground. Gawain did a double-take at his own would-be killer, then looked back at his friend in awe and gratitude.
"Get alongside me!" Arthur said as he pulled the bolt back on his rifle. Gawain did as instructed and the two of them lay kneeling in the mud with their guns pointed towards the top of the trench-line.
A moment later, the helmet of an advancing German soldier was visible. Arthur took a shot, and the helmet flew up in the air. As he chambered in another round, Gawain had shot another advancing soldier before he could reach the trench. As more continued to press into the trench, Arthur and Gawain held them off with their rifled until they emptied. All the while, the rest of their unit was still engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
A German wielding a shovel had managed to jump overhead, intending on striking down the pair of them. Before he could, Gawain thrust the bayonet of his rifle forward and the German was impaled on it. He tried to kick it loose but it was stuck between the ribs, so Gawain discarded his rifle and picked up the German's shovel instead. He then rushed to his left to stop a German from using his bayonet on him.
Arthur loaded the rifle he held in his hands, chambered a round, and proceeded right. He saw Galahad furiously struggling against a German with their rifles grinding against each other. Arthur bashed his head with the butt of his rifle, freeing Galahad from the struggle as he resumed fighting the other Germans that had them surrounded. Two more soldiers were advancing on Arthur and Galahad, so the two of them shot the other two down. Another German tried tackling Arthur from behind, but Arthur was ready this time and dodged his lunge, watching him fall into the mud. Not wanting to take any chances, Arthur pierced his bayonet through the man's back before pulling it out.
"Dag! Grab the emma-gee! Get it moved behind!" Bors had ordered Dagonet, as he drew his Webley revolver to deal with the approaching Germans. Dagonet took hold of the hefty Hotchkiss machine gun and maneuvered the opposite direction of Bors and the Germans.
Bedivere and Lucan were having their own struggle with the Germans, but neither left the other's side. Bedivere resorted to using his entrenching took once his bayonet broke, and managed to strike a German lieutenant who had his pistol drawn prepared to shoot Lucan. Once Bedivere cleaved the officer, the unarmed Lucan dove and grabbed the Luger pistol he had been carrying, using it with great success in defending himself and his brother.
Tristan had lost his rifle in the struggle, and resorted to using one of the wooden barricade boards (blown off by the bombardment) to repel the Germans. Percival was nearby, having run out of ammunition and resorting to picking up the enemy's rifles successively.
Arthur continued to stab, shoot, and otherwise claw his way through the trenches. He did not know how long he had been at it, but time had become a blur to him. All he could do was focus on staying alive.
"Set the emma gee on the crates!" Bors called out to Dagonet, who began stacking empty munitions and ration crates together in a wall like formation. He then went about setting up and loading the Hotchkiss on top.
Bors fired his revolver until it clicked empty, and a German sergeant began charging him with his own trench mace. Bors then chucked the pistol at the advancing enemy, then he drew a large, leaf-shaped blade from his belt and punctured the man's throat. Once he did so, he leapt over the stack of crates and pushed Dagonet aside as he manned the trigger of the machine gun. Dagonet stood by with more ammunition belts.
"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" Bors called out at the top of his lungs.
Arthur, Gawain, Tristan, Percival, Galahad, Bedivere, Lucan, and every other British soldier present at once dropped to the floor of the trench. The precise moment they did, Bors let loose with the machine gun. Round after round of automatic fire tore into the German troops, their blood decorating the trenches and the men within them. The first belt had emptied, and Dagonet had loaded in another thirty-round belt. Bors immediately continued to fire.
Arthur had turned himself around to watch the Germans around him be slaughtered by machine gun fire. One of them collapsed onto his legs, and Arthur couldn't move him for fear of being caught in the crossfire.
After the third belt of ammunition was emptied, a whistle sounded retreat, and those surviving Germans clambered out of the British trench and back toward their own line. The Welsh did not rest, and took aim with their rifles and fired on the retreating Germans.
Except for Arthur, who was still pinned down by the dead German lying atop of his boots.
Supporting himself by his palms, he observed the German's corpse with stunned silence. The longer he looked at him, the more Arthur saw how young he looked. He couldn't have looked older than eighteen or nineteen. And now, he may never grow older.
One of his comrades came and pushed the German off of his boots, extending a hand and then helping him up. Arthur muttered a weak thank-you before observing the chaos all around him. Dozens of his dead countrymen and dozens more of dead Germans.
And what had been accomplished?
"Hey," Gawain's voice sounded out as he patted Arthur on the shoulder, "Cheers for saving me today."
"Likewise," Arthur replied, looking dejected.
Gawain could see the displeasure on Arthur's face, and said, "Don't think about them, think about how you're still here among the living."
"For how much longer?" Arthur asked, "'Till we end up like them? And even if we survive, what will it have amounted for in the end?"
"Dunno, mate," Gawain answered, "But you and me? We'll keep going. We always have, always will. Nothing will change that."
"We'll see," Arthur replied.
"Cheer up a little, man," Gawain said before lighting a cigarette, "The Boche won't come to harass us for a while, and maybe we'll get relieved in the meantime."
Gawain patted him twice on the shoulder before walking down the trench. Arthur looked around and found Galahad administering last rites to the dead and dying, Germans too.
"... et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis non timebo mala..." came the word's from Galahad's mouth as he closed the eyes of one of theirs.
Arthur sat himself down in the trench, removed his helmet, wiped some of the wet mud off of his face, then reached for the crucifix around his neck.
"Oh Lord," Arthur began, "Please let Your light and mercy touch all of us sinners. Help us find the path back to peace and righteousness."
As Arthur prayed with tears in his eyes, he had little idea that his prayers would be answered soon enough - and that he would play a role in making that happen.