Murder At Zero Hour

by Paul Westwood

  Chapter 7

  The Past

  Meadowes's replacement was some old fellow they dug up from who-knows-where. Captain Bryant was New Army and used to be a lawyer at some well-respected family firm. He was a thin, reedy man with a tidy mustache and arrogant airs. Right from the start, he complained about our lack of discipline and seemed to mostly target me for extra criticism. Perhaps he didn’t like Americans, or maybe it was just me, but at this point I didn't care. I found his attitude most annoying. I ran into his type at my old office. He was more concerned about the rules than trying to actually get something accomplished.

  Under his leadership, there was always more work to be done. Because of him, we were out all night expanding our forward trenches and filling sandbags. The men grumbled, and I couldn’t blame them since this activity only made the Germans more suspicious. Every night there was a stream of dead and wounded as the enemy shells targeted our working parties. The men had been comfortable where we were and didn’t like poking their heads above the parapet unless they had to. Not that I could blame them - after Prentice had been wounded, morale had fallen like a rock. No longer did we feel invincible. The casualties from that night had been a lesson in humility. The enemy had a heavily defended position that would be nigh impossible to crack with the firepower we had available. There just weren’t enough men and guns to do the job.

  It was with great joy when we finally received news that Prentice was going to make it through alive. There was also good reason to believe that he would be returning to us soon. They even postponed sending his replacement which was further proof of his future recovery. I know he and I were not close friends, but I still missed his sour disposition. It was odd to feel that way about him, but the circumstances of living in the trench had that effect on a man. I had even forgiven Lyons for his offhand manner of that terrible night. He was dealing with the horrors of this war in his own way. Who was I to judge him?

  I should remember to mention Childs. Ever since that night, he became quite friendly towards me. Personally I found it annoying and wanted to thrash the bugger. Lyons told me not to mind him, but the corporal nonetheless bothered me. I could feel his mocking eyes carefully watching every move I made. He seemed to be everywhere, and perhaps it was my imagination, but the man made every effort to attach himself to me. He was somehow part of every work party I commanded.

  Owens was always nearby. I found his constant attention quite unsettling. Since the death of Meadowes, he had decided to take it upon himself to be my personal bodyguard. He was a simple man with strong loyalties, so I suppose I should commend him for it. But when you’re busy and trying to take care of your duties it can be a bit difficult with someone always over your shoulder. Whenever possible I had to order him away so I could complete my work.

  A week after Meadowes’s death, I heard nothing new concerning the investigation that was supposed to have started. There should have been something useful in that book, but even the damned Red-Caps did not come to question me. When I had a spare moment, I even gave Wodenhill a call from the HQ, but he rudely told me that the investigation was currently going on, and I would be contacted soon enough. He told me to be patient and soon everything would be sorted out. That was army bureaucracy for you – ploddingly slow and inept.

  I'd thought and thought about what had happened to the captain. Honestly it crowded my mind at times, especially when it was quiet and I was trying to sleep. We knew we could all die any day – that was readily apparent right now. A stray bullet, a night watch that ended up being your last, even someone on your own side could shoot you by accident. But being murdered was not what Meadowes had signed up for. He'd been in the army, he knew the risks, but yet he continued to serve.

  The war ground on, and for the next day we were kept busy with our duties. I couldn't help notice that there was an increased amount of train and truck traffic in our area. Deeper behind our lines, many artillery guns were being placed, and massive amounts of shells were also being brought up. Something big was definitely going on and everyone seemed to know about it. Talk was everywhere about the big push. Even the Germans must have known that something was about to happen. Finally, during one chilly morning meeting, Captain Bryant confirmed our worst fears and began describing our next operation.

  “You may have noticed that a large number of artillery is being placed behind us,” he said, blowing through that ridiculous mustache of his.

  “I did notice that,” Carter chimed in.

  I was absently stirring my cup of tea and barely looked up at the new captain. I wanted a good cup of coffee, but you would swear the British had never heard of the stuff.

  “Grant, I hope you are paying attention,” Bryant said to me, chiding me like some schoolboy.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied glumly and cupped my hand under my chin in mock boredom.

  “I might as well tell you before you hear the rumor,” he continued on. “There is going to be a big push soon, and we're taking a small part in it.” Bryant then gave us a rare smile which sent a chill down my spine and said, “This is going to be a multi-unit operation, and I'm personally going to make sure we reach our objective. The Germans have been complacent along our lines for far too long, and the French need our help because of that mess at Verdun. According to them, we haven't been pulling our weight.”

  “Damn Frogs,” Lyons muttered darkly.

  Ignoring him, Bryant went on. He said, “The French forces have become bogged down at Verdun, so General Haig has agreed to help. We're going to relieve the pressure on the French by mounting our own attack. The Germans are tied down fighting them, so we're not expecting too much resistance along the Somme front.”

  I let out a snort and said, “The Boche has given us enough trouble here already, sir. Just look at what happened to Lieutenant Prentice.”

  “I heard about that, but don't let that worry you. There is going to be a massive bombardment starting in another week. There is going to be enough shells dropping down on the Germans to destroy their trenches, dugouts, artillery and supply network. I doubt if there is going to be anything left over there to stop us. Trust me gentlemen, it will be an easy walk over.” He gave us another version of his smile, a frightful leer which did nothing to improve my confidence.

  I said doubtfully, “The shelling that we gave thee enemy did little to help Prentice. The barbwire entanglements were still there when he tried to scout out their lines.”

  Carter looked between the captain and me as if expecting a bit of fisticuffs.

  “Grant has a point, sir,” Lyons said as he pushed his cup of tea away. “Our shells do nothing but blow the barbwire up and drop it down to the ground again. We need something heavier that can cut through that wire.”

  A dull thud of distant shells seemed to punctuate his words.

  Bryant sighed. “Gentlemen, I've been assured that all of this has been considered by command. This shelling is going to last for a week and will include plenty of high explosives. There won't be anything left of the German line by the time we are scheduled to push off. We will be part of the thirteen divisions taking part in this operation in tandem, so we must do our part to make it work. The entire line will be moving forward. The enemy won't be able to defend against such an enormous attack. We will take over their first lines, and once they have been secured, we will hold them until the reserves come to continue on. We have the easy part, but mind you it still is important.”

  Lyons looked at me and gave a quick shake of his head. His face betrayed his emotions – we were going to get killed out there.

  The fool captain must have read our thoughts for then he said, “We do have our orders, gentlemen.”

  “Yes we do,” my friend replied bitterly. He got up and stalked out of the room without saying a further word.

  Bryant shot me a scathing look as I stood up to follow. Carter just gaped at me. Giving a quick salute to
the captain, I went out to follow Lyons. He was ahead of me, moving quickly down one of the communication trenches towards our billet. I caught up to him and began walking next to him.

  “Those damn fools are going to get us all killed,” he said sourly.

  “What can we do about it?” I asked as we climbed out of the trenches and started taking the road into town.

  He shot me a dark look and shook his head. His eyes were sick with worry. I began to question the man’s sanity. Perhaps he had been here for far too long. The pressure of everyday death was enough to make the bravest man crack. I would never have suspected Lyon to be afraid, but I could see the fear bubbling underneath. I just hoped the fellow wouldn’t break before we had to go over the top.

  “Why don’t you go and get some rest?” I asked. “I recently picked up a bottle of good whiskey and we could have a couple of snorts.”

  He nodded weakly and said nothing for the rest of our walk back to the billet.