by Griff Hosker
“Right Lumpy, into the woods. We need sleep and shelter.”
We found a woodcutter’s track and followed it. It did not look well used. I remembered on the estate, they had cut down wood for the fires when the leaves had fallen. The leaves had yet to fall. I gambled that the wood cutters would not be operating just yet. We followed the trail and I spied a hut. It was a rustic, homemade affair but there was a roof and a door. We approached it cautiously. I drew my Luger. I nodded to Hutton who pulled the door open and I peered inside. It looked empty. There were no windows but there was a crude chimney.
“I am going in. Tell me if you can see any light when I am inside.” I closed the door and struck a match. There was a hay filled mattress, a crudely made chair and table. There also appeared to be an oil lamp. The match went out and I opened the door. “Well?”
“A slight glow from the bottom sir but you would have to be standing next to it to see it.”
That decided me. “Right get inside. See if you can light the oil lamp. I’ll have a look around outside.” I closed the door and listened as the match was struck. He was right you could not see the light. I searched the back of the building. I found an old can. I shook it and something sloshed around inside. When I opened the top I could smell the fumes. It was fuel for the lamp. At the moment light was more important that food. We needed to know where we were. I also found a water butt. I did not doubt that it would be a little scummy but it would have to do. There appeared to be little else that we could use.
I carried the can back inside and saw that Lumpy had lit the lamp. “We have more fuel and there is some water outside.”
Lumpy held up the Dewar Flask. “We still have cold tea and I have half a packet of fig rolls.”
“You are a wonder, Lumpy. Right now that sounds like a feast.” I took off my greatcoat and spread the map out while Lumpy divided the biscuits into two piles. He poured my tea into the mug while he ate the biscuits and then drank the last of the tea directly from the Dewar Flask. I looked at him, “I think I will save my biscuits for the morning. Food might be in short supply.”
He looked crestfallen, “I forgot sir, I was so hungry…”
I laughed, “Never mind. Now come here and look at this map; just in case we get separated.”
“No sir. I am not leaving you.”
“We don’t know what may happen so pay attention.” I took out my pencil and drew a circle around the crossroads I had identified. “We are here.” I scribbled a rough line from the Somme to Nieuport. This is the front line. We are going here.” I drew a line from the crossroads to Ostend.
“That looks a long way, sir.”
I shrugged. “We will walk at night and hide up by day. I am not sure we will find anything as good as this again but we can hope. I hope to get three nights of eighteen miles done and that will leave us with about thirteen for the most dangerous part: into Ostend.”
“So we have four nights worth of walking?”
“I am afraid so.”
“What about food?”
“We may not find any. Water should be easy to come by most of these French towns have fountains and the like. We will be using your flask to carry what we can. There is some rain water outside. We can drink some in the morning and then wash with the rest. Now we will have to keep watch during the day; four hours on and four hours off.”
He gave me a determined look. “You let me sleep earlier sir so you get your head down and I will study that map.”
“Right sergeant.” I looked him in the eyes. “We can get through this just so long as we don’t panic.”
“I know sir and, sir?”
“Yes?”
“Put them biscuits in your pocket they are a sore temptation to me.”
Laughing I pocketed them and then lay down with my great coat over me. I was asleep in an instant.
I woke when Lumpy shook me. “Time for your shift sir.”
I looked at my watch. It was nearly noon. “I said four hours!”
“I know sir but you looked tired and I managed to stay awake.” He pointed to the table. I found some blackberries, damsons and elderberries outside sir. I have had my share. They are all for you.” He grinned. “We’ll save the fig rolls for dinner eh sir? The water in the flask is clean sir. I filtered it through a handkerchief. It was a clean one sir, but it isn’t now. Night!”
He lay on the now warm hay filled mattress and was snoring happily within moments. I drank some of the water and ate the fruit. I didn’t like to say to Hutton that eating so much fruit might not be good for us but it was food and we needed fuel for our bodies. I risked a wander around outside. I knew that we had walked a mile from the road and I could dimly hear traffic trundling along it. I presumed that it would die down after dark.
I discovered Hutton’s fruit bushes but, as I went deeper I discovered some cob nuts, wild garlic and mushrooms. I suspected that Lumpy would not know the difference between a mushroom and a toadstool. I was a country boy and I had been taught well. I filled my pockets with the bounty. The nuts were particularly plentiful and they would keep us going without causing problems of digestion. The mushrooms we would have to eat fresh.
Once back in the hut I had a rummage around and discovered an old blackened pan which the woodcutters obviously used. Using some stones I made a sort of tripod around the oil lamp. I put the pan on the top. The oil lamp was giving off heat. It would not cook quickly but it would cook over a period of hours. I cut up the wild garlic and mushrooms and placed them in the pan. Nothing much seemed to happen but I knew I just needed patience.
While I waited I examined the map again. We would have to bypass Lille. It was a large town and there would be police as well as Germans there. The problem was that it was not far from the front. Once we passed there we had the area around Ypres to contend with. I knew that had been heavily fought over and there were large numbers of troops on both sides. After that there was just Ostend and the problem of how to get back to our lines. It seemed even more unlikely now that we would manage to negotiate all of those obstacles.
I heard a hiss and realised that the mushrooms and garlic were actually cooking. I smiled. It was a small victory but we might actually have some hot food and that always made a difference.
Chapter 21
We both felt better after the mushrooms and garlic. I put some water in the pan with the juices and made a very thin soup which we drank. It was better than plain water and probably healthier. When it became dark we set off. We both had a spring in our step and, as I closed the door behind us, I silently thanked the woodcutters for their hospitality.
We had not heard any traffic for some time. I was confident as we stepped out along the road. I now knew our route and we both had an idea of how long it would take us. The road we travelled was lined with trees and we would have shelter should either a vehicle or people come along. Our greatest danger lay in German soldiers being sent to the front at night to avoid our air patrols. A column of German soldiers might well inspect the sides of the road more closely than a vehicle. We walked along the road without speaking. I had explained to Lumpy about noise travelling long distances at night. I knew he found it hard to curb his garrulous nature.
I was happy to walk in silence. It enabled me to marshal my thoughts. This was like the moment my regiment had all died. I had expected to die and yet I lived. We should both have died the other day and we had been spared. I resolved to make something of my life. I had Beatrice but I had nothing beyond the end of this madness. I spent the night working out what I might do after the war and where we might live.
We met no one on our walk save the creatures of the night which sometimes stopped as we approached and then scurried off into the dark. The houses we passed were all in darkness. All the way north I was acutely aware of the proximity of the war. We found the occasional burned out house; a victim of the early fluid days of the war. We were both tiring when I smelled the smoke from the wood fires and knew a town or village wa
s close by.
Verlinghem was a tiny hamlet at a crossroads. We had reached the point where we needed rest. The hamlet itself was not suitable. We crossed the village quietly. Hutton pointed to the small dribbling horse trough. I nodded and watched while he filled our flask with fresh, hopefully, drinkable water. As he was filling it I saw another wood away to the west. I tapped Hutton on the shoulder and we made our way there. This was on a slight rise; it overlooked the village. We entered the woods and soon found a trail. I hoped that we would find another hut. We travelled a mile and a half and saw nothing.
The sun was coming up and we needed to be out of sight. The ground to our left fell away and I saw, in the first light of dawn, a small dell covered in spindly trees and undergrowth. It would have to do. We made our way down and I used my knife to cut some thin branches from a willow. I used them to make a crude shelter. I climbed back up and looked down. The sun was peering over the eastern horizon and I could see more clearly. It looked natural. The branches and leaves would die but by that time we would be well north.
Hutton was already making some fallen leaves into a bed. I spoke quietly, “Not exactly the Ritz but it will have to do. You sleep first, Sergeant Hutton, and I will keep watch for four hours.” He looked as though he was going to speak. “This way I will ensure that we share the watch equally. I will wake you at ten. Now sleep.”
He nodded and lay down. He was soon asleep and I laid my greatcoat over him. I took my Luger and left him. We still had nuts but we needed more food. Hunger and tiredness robbed a mind of the ability to function. I began to forage. I saw many rabbits but I was not willing to eat raw meat just yet and we could not afford a fire. Had this been spring then there would have been an abundance of bird’s eggs but this was autumn. I found more mushrooms and a few hazel nuts. There were blackberries and even a stand of late fruiting raspberries. They would have to do.
I suddenly heard a noise. I left the trail and went to hide behind a large elm tree. The noise became conversation and I heard the voices of two teenage girls. They were coming to pick the fruit from the bushes where I had been standing a few minutes earlier. They began to pick, chatter and giggle. I could not make out their words but I recognised the language. They were French. It seemed an age before they were satisfied with their haul. They turned and headed down the slope. I gave them a start and then followed.
The two girls headed for a trail and skipped along. My senses were attuned to the country once more. It had been a skill I had used when on a cavalry patrol. There was a ribbon of smoke rising from behind the trees. I moved cautiously and saw the girls enter a farmhouse at the very edge of the woods. It was less than a mile from our hide out. We had been lucky to avoid it. When the door closed behind them I made my way back to the dell.
Hutton was still asleep. I ate my half of the bounty of the woods and drank a cup of the water. Our diet would soon have an effect on our health. We had eaten neither bread nor meat for a couple of days and we had had more fruit and nuts than I had had in the last two months.
At ten I woke Hutton. I whispered, “There is a farm less than a mile away. Don’t leave the shelter unless you have to. There is some food here.”
He looked at the fruit and nuts, “I’ll be looking like a bloody squirrel soon!”
“It is food and it will keep us going. We will have steak pie when we get home.”
He grinned, “Now you are talking sir. With gravy and mashed potatoes!”
The thought of hot, rich food sent me to sleep. Hutton let me sleep for four hours and shook me awake. “It’s getting warmer sir. I had to leave the shelter sir. Sorry but I have the shits.”
I nodded, I had expected this. “Drink plenty of water.”
“What if we run out?”
“We will get some more.”
We left at dusk. I took a circuitous route to avoid the farm. As luck would have it I found a trail which appeared to head north. I risked a match to look at the compass and saw that it did lead north. It was not the direction I had intended to take but it would do. It was slower going than I would have liked but I could not see us meeting anyone. The path led across fields and through pieces of scrubby woodland. We were passing some cows when I saw some rabbits gathered close to the herd. They were getting milk.
“Hutton, come with me. Drink the last of the water. You need it.”
The rabbits fled but the heifer continued to chew contentedly. “Give me the Dewar Flask and hold her head. Hum to her. They like that.”
“Hum what sir?”
“Just a song, sergeant. I am going to milk her.” It had been some time since I had milked a cow but you never forgot and we soon had a flask full. I poured a cup for Hutton and I drank some from the flask. I refilled the flask and we left across the field. The milk would counteract the effects of the fruit as well as providing nourishment.
We scurried through Quesnoy in the dark of night only pausing to grab a handful of water from the water trough. We were back on the road once more and, although we were making better time, we had to be more vigilant.
We were a few miles from Dadizele, our next stop when disaster struck. Perhaps we were overconfident or just careless; I don’t know. We had left the road, which turned west towards the front, and were heading on a small narrow trail which led north. We were just negotiating a rocky downhill section of the path when I heard a sudden noise and a cry. I turned and saw Hutton sprawled at my feet. He was clutching his ankle and in some distress.
“Sorry, sir, I slipped on the rock and twisted my ankle. You leave me.”
I shook my head. I told you Sergeant Hutton we do this together. This is not the spot to examine your injury. We will find some shelter. Here, I will help you up. You can lean on me and use the rifle as a stick. Go steadily and don’t put any weight on that ankle. Your boots will stop it swelling.”
We hobbled, gingerly down the slope. It seemed to take forever. I heard the intake of breath from Hutton when he caught his trailing ankle on the ground. We would be caught in the open soon. I saw that we were travelling over what must have been a farm at one time. There were field boundaries and walls but it was overgrown. It looked to be an enclosure for animals but there was no animal waste to be seen.
We followed the contours of the land and headed down. As the first faint rays of sun appeared I saw what looked like the deserted farm building. It looked to have a roof and a door. We had struck lucky once more.
The door was just ten yards away and a sanctuary beckoned. “Nearly there, Lumpy. Just grit your teeth and think of England.”
“Funny sir I remember saying that to a girl once.”
Just then I heard a growl followed by the ominous clicking of a double barrel shot gun being cocked.
Hutton looked at me and I felt a barrel tap me on the shoulder. I turned and saw an old man, pipe jutting from his mouth and he was pointing his shotgun at me. There was a sheep dog at his feet growling and looking ready to take a lump of English flesh from my leg. “English! We are English airmen.”
The barrel lowered a smidgeon and he said, “Anglais?”
I nodded vigorously and said, “Oui.” I mimed an aeroplane flying and then crashing.
He lowered the gun and smiled, “Avion?”
“Yes, an aeroplane,” I pointed to Lumpy’s leg. “He is hurt.”
The old man nodded and he opened the door. He went inside and turned up the lamp. I could see, as soon as we entered that this was not a deserted ruin, it was his home. He had a room just like ours on the estate. There was a simple pot bellied stove, a table with three chairs and a bowl with a pitcher next to it. The chairs neither matched each other nor the table. He gestured towards the chair and, after uncocking his shotgun placed it in the corner. I noted that. He kept it loaded. Hutton sat down and I saw the relief on his face. I looked around the room and saw that there were just some family photographs and curious mementoes but the place above the fire was dominated by a picture of the Belgian king. This man was a
patriot and that gave me hope that he might be on our side.
He barked a command at the dog which went outside. He poured some water into a pail and handed it to me. I took off the boot very carefully. I could see the pain which Lumpy had to endure. I dreaded taking off his sock and finding the ankle broken. I slowly peeled back the sock. I held his foot by the heel. It was visibly swelling and very red but it did not seem broken. I knew how to test for a broken limb but that would have to wait for a while. We needed the swelling to go down first. I lowered the injured foot into the water and the relief on Hutton’s face was clear.
The old man nodded and took a frying pan. He began to carefully carve some thin slices of ham which he threw into the pan. He disappeared out of the back door.
“Do you reckon this is safe sir?”
“As safe as anywhere behind enemy lines is likely to be. You just rest. We take each day one at a time and deal with whatever we have to.”
I glanced around and saw a photograph of the old man when he was younger. He was wearing a uniform of some kind. There was one of him and who I took to be his wife on their wedding day and there was a much more recent photograph of a young man holding a shotgun in one hand and a brace of rabbits in the other. The old man returned with a basket containing a clutch of eggs. He saw me looking at the photographs and continued to the stove. The smell of the frying ham made me begin to salivate.
The old man turned the ham and cracked a couple of eggs into the sizzling pan. He glanced at me; I pointed to the photograph I had just been looking at. “Your son?”
He looked puzzled and I struggled for the French word. “Er fils, votre fils.”
He nodded and, after taking out the ham, cracked another two eggs. He looked at me with the saddest look I have ever seen. “Il est mort.” He said it slowly so that I could understand. I nodded. “Boche!” He mimed shooting and spat into the open fire.
I wondered if he had been a soldier too. It answered one question, however, the man was no friend of the Germans which made him our friend.