Tigers on the Western Front (Royal Zombie Corps Book 2)

by Harald,C. M.

  Marsh got his Tigers back out of the trench and quickly around the first clump of wire in no-mans-land. He looked back to see the rifle squad pull back, having not fired at the enemy, but bringing their prisoner with them. Even the enemy artillery had not opened fire yet. All but two of his Tigers were keeping up, those two having been badly damaged in the legs. He knew he would have to look carefully at them in case the damage lead to further problems, zombies did not heal, although he had some ideas on how he could repair them. A glance up the line saw another combat team pulling back, although he could see that they had far fewer Tigers left. Unlike during the advance, Marsh had the Tigers moving from shell-hole to shell-hole to help protect them in case the enemy opened fire. The occasional crack of a bullet passed overhead as the enemy fired the occasional shot from their reserve lines, but there was little of significance. Marsh knew the fire would soon come from the front line as the enemy seized back their trench via the undefended communications trenches that connected each trench line. In a matter of seconds, the picture changed with mortar rounds beginning to land in no-mans-land. It was clear that the counter-attack was underway.

  Marsh paused briefly behind the remains of a stone wall. He thought it may once have a small building, although the shattered wall was only a few feet high now. He watched as the security squad weaved across the mutilated terrain he had already traversed, mortars landing around them. One second, they were all running, the next, a mortar round squarely hit Simmonds. Mud, metal and body parts flew in different directions as Simmonds ceased to exist. Marsh screamed his name, but it was too late. Simmonds was gone in the blink of an eye.

  As Marsh looked through tear filled eyes, he could see Colonel Hudson mounting the enemy parapet before breaking into a run in no-mans-land. Hudson was possibly the last to have left the deserted trench, ensuring his men got out first. He watched as the Colonel leapt over a stand of wire, his athleticism belying his age. The mortars continued to fall in rapid succession, one landing close to the Colonel, who was blown off his feet. Marsh dug his nails into his hands in terror. Without conscious thought, the Tigers left their shell holes and raced back towards the Colonel. The man had regained his footing, but was now staggering back towards the enemy lines, clearly stunned by the blast.

  'Marsh, what the fucking hell?' Wells shouted, levelling his rifle to shoot at the backs of the the Tigers as they tore past him, advancing in leaps and bounds on the the Colonel. They were travelling far faster than they had at any point so far in the battle, the speed was superhuman, even those that had been badly damaged in the combat so far. Wells fired, missing his target and letting out a stream of swear words.

  'Don't shoot!' Marsh shouted, a glimmer of hope formed about the actions of the Tigers, 'They're trying to help him.'

  'What you on about?' Wells replied, reloading and taking aim again.

  'Think! The trench, they moved to defend me when I got scared.' He gulped as Wells lowered his rifle looking incredulous as the thought took hold, 'I got scared again. I think they're protecting him for me.'

  'That's one hell of a chance to take. If you're wrong...' Wells raised his rifle and took aim again, but checked his fire, hoping Marsh was correct, ready if he was not.

  The first Tiger to reach the Colonel bundled into him, almost like a rugby tackle, but instead of going down, rose with immense strength throwing the Colonel across his shoulder. Turning on the spot, the reanimated corpse headed back toward the Allied lines, several other Tigers falling in behind it. They were using their bodies to prevent any Germans from getting a clear shot at the Colonel. The Tigers that were not needed also headed back towards the Allied trenches at their original pace, apparently satisfied with their efforts to protect the Colonel.

  'Let's go!' Marsh shouted to Wells above the noise of another incoming barrage of mortar rounds.

  Knowing that there was nothing else that he could do, Marsh left his cover and hurried back to the friendly lines. Within seconds Marsh, his Tigers, the Colonel and the protection squad, were in the forward British trench. Without waiting for further orders, Marsh moved everyone into the communications trench towards the reserve lines so as to not spook the follow-on troops that were still in the forward trench, no longer needed now the assault had failed.

  'What the hell went wrong?' Marsh asked when Wells caught him up, 'Simmonds is gone.'

  'I saw it. There was nothing left. Bloody Simpson and his messing around with our tactics. We'd have won otherwise and Simmonds would still be here.'

  'What about the Old Man?' Wells asked, still stunned by the unexpected behaviour of the Tigers.

  'Just stunned and a few splinters. Half scared to death by his close encounter with our Tigers. He'll be fine but he's off to the medics. I didn't realise he would be coming forward with us.' Marsh said.

  'You think he'd miss the chance to see all that he's put in place? He's staked his reputation on us you know.' Wells removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. They came away dripping with sweat, 'That was a close one.'

  'Closer than you realise.' Marsh felt the slit cut into his battledress by the Bavarian bayonet, reaching inside, between some buttons, and sticking his fingers through the hole.

  'Marsh you worthless piece of shit!' The shout travelled along the trench. If there had been enemy listening posts out in no-mans-land, they would easily identify the British positions for the noise. What was more likely was that any enemy listeners would recognise the tone of the shout and be thankful that it was not aimed at them.

  "Where are you, you excuse for a soldier?' The bellow was closer and it was clear Simpson was heading their way, intent on taking out his frustrations on Marsh.

  'What do you think he wants this time?' Davies asked

  'Probably wants to know who left the kettle on.' Morgan joked before going silent as he remembered Simmonds was not there to laugh at the joke.

  'If we ignore him, he might go away.' Davies optimistically suggested, lighting a new cigarette from the glowing stub of his last cigarette.

  'There you are!' Simpson steamed around the bend in the trench, seeing Marsh, Davies and Morgan leaning against the trench walls, their Tigers secured long ago, 'Stand to attention when I address you.' Simpson demanded when the three failed to show any sign of paying attention to him. Their lack of reaction further irritating him.

  'What the hell were you doing out there?' Simpson demanded, his face going red with anger and an arm flapping in the direction of the enemy trenches.

  'What do you mean Sarge?' Marsh pushed himself away from the trench wall and put his hands on his hips, attempting to stand his ground.

  'You bloody well know what I mean man. Sending all those zombies after the Colonel. Is it not bad enough that we use these vile beings? You want to make it worse and set them on our own side?' Simpson spat.

  'But the CO is safe Sarge, my Tigers got him out.' Marsh could not see what Simpson was getting at. It just seemed like Simpson was seeking any excuse to attack him.

  'It's unnatural, that's what it is. The Colonel would have made it back fine, but no, you have to terrify everyone with those zombies chasing after him in an unauthorised manoeuvre.'

  'It worked Sarge, he's safe.' Marsh repeated.

  'Only by some incredible good fortune. I saw you hidden away there, terrified. You lost control of your Tigers and they went in to kill him.' Simpson sneered the accusation, 'You panicked and they attacked. It was pure luck that you got them back under control.'

  Marsh glared at Simpson but did not answer. There was some truth in what Simpson said, but the sergeant would never understand that Marsh seemed able to control the Tigers at an instinctive level.

  'If it's not enough for you to use your Tigers in an unauthorised way, there's also your actual attack. You were not authorised to operate your zombies in that way. You were expected to follow standard infantry doctrine, advancing on the enemy en mass.' Simpson had got right up in Marsh's face.

  'No Sarge,
we were to try out new tactics, not use the old ones. These aren't infantry you know.' Marsh was getting fed up with the bullying of the Sergeant.

  'I can bloody well see that can't I.' Simpson was exasperated, 'Who gave you permission to experiment?'

  'The Colonel and Lieutenant Scott.' Marsh explained, 'On account of we've new weapons and we need to learn how to use them.'

  'Well in future, you do it the way I tell you. I don't care if General Haig, or Christ Himself tells you otherwise. I'm in charge and you do what I bloody well say. Is that clear?' Simpson ordered. Marsh nodded to get rid of his antagonist, knowing he would not pay the slightest bit of attention to the sergeant in future. 'Bloody worthless soldier, should have sent you to the cookhouse when I first saw you. It's a miracle we've found any use for you in this war.'

  Simpson stormed off while Marsh breathed a sigh of relief.

  'What does he know?' Davies asked as soon as Simpson was safely out of earshot, 'Probably just jealous that he messed up and you didn't. If he'd not cocked up, we'd have held the line and Simmonds would still be bloody here.'

  'Well I know who got it right out there, and I'm sure the CO will as well.' Morgan tried to reassure Marsh.

  Resistance

  'It is with considerable concern I feel the need to voice my opinions to the War Office. General Haig has dismissed my valid objections without due consideration of their merits. To pursue the use of this new weapon is contrary to my conscience as an upstanding Christian.'

  Extract from a letter sent to the War Office in January 1917 by a Corps commander in Belgium (name withheld for publication). Published by On the Conduct of the War Committee, House of Lords Select Committee, 1919.

  The next time Marsh suffered another incident with Simpson was a week later. Colonel Hudson was busy inspecting the damage to the zombies from the attack. The Colonel had been both grateful and delighted by Marsh's intervention on the battlefield. The Colonel, other than a few scrapes, had been stunned by the explosion. Ignoring the standing order from Simpson to not innovate, Marsh had discussed several new ideas with the Colonel. Not least among these was the use of some sort of body armour, or at the least, head armour to protect the Tigers from lethal shots.

  The debacle among the combat groups, that Simpson had been at the root of, had reduced the number of animate dead they had available to them. Although the attack had made over a dozen new zombies, twenty-three had been lost to enemy action and a further five were of no further use and had been humanely disposed of. In this sense, the attack was a failure. However, Marsh's successes with careful battlefield movement had led to the Colonel adopting the tactic as the default tactic for the unit. Likewise, the Colonel had been impressed by the use of zombies to rescue him and was playing with ideas whereby zombies could be used to clear casualties from a battlefield. It was probably going to be too revolutionary an idea for the Royal Medical Corps, but nevertheless, it could be a fruitful idea. Marsh and Hudson had also spent some time discussing the apparently instinctive command that Marsh had over the zombies and how this seemed to be communicated by thought alone.

  Simpson therefore felt particularly aggrieved that the soldier he saw as incompetent was feted as highly successful in this new form of warfare. As Scott and Wells were off at the front investigating possible zombie sightings, with the intention of capturing them, Simpson saw the opportunity to vent his anger on Marsh while his friends were unable to protect him. The latest form of venting was making Marsh peel potatoes ready for the cooks in the evening. Simpson had put him to all sorts of menial tasks including cleaning the toilets and arranging extra guard duty. The more obvious occasions only happened when there was no-one around to challenge Simpson. However, even when there were witnesses, subtle bullying still occurred. It never occurred to Simpson that Marsh could raise the issue with the Colonel. Likewise, it never occurred to Marsh to take advantage of his privileged access to the Colonel to take his revenge against the vengeful sergeant. When his friends suggested it, he dismissed the whole idea as foolish.

  While Marsh was not happy at the treatment he was receiving from Simpson, it did give him time to think. There were two things he spent his time thinking about. The first was his ability as a soldier and the challenge of making his family proud. This was something that he could not easily reconcile. He was not sure how his family would respond to the knowledge that he had unexplained and special skills with the Tigers. He was quite certain his family would not like the idea of zombies, once the creatures became common knowledge. He knew that they would fear that it would be something that could have been done to his heroic brother, a stain on his memory. After all, the zombies were the children, brothers, husbands and fathers of people back home, not simply weapons that could be deployed. To be reanimated as a Tiger was not something that he would wish on anyone, but then the needs of the war were paramount and he was convinced that if they could get the Tiger concept to work, lives would be saved in the long run. Even though the zombies dealt death in a brutal fashion, he knew it was necessary, just as killing in war was necessary to achieve valid goals. Nevertheless, he still feared that he was not a capable soldier. Certainly unusual and useful, yes. But capable? Marsh knew that he simply did not fit the mould of a typical soldier. It was not only his non-combat weaknesses, but also how he repeatedly got himself into trouble on the battlefield, such when the Bavarian had taken him by surprise in the last attack, or the hand-to-hand bayonet fight he had ended up in during his first action. Yet, each time he had got himself into trouble, his skill with the zombies had helped him out of the situation, even helped him to save others.

  The second problem was how to use the Tigers with greater effect on the front line. Marsh had a few ideas that he wanted to develop as the time that Simpson had given him allowed a thorough processing of the ideas. He had already brought the concept of head and body armour to Colonel Hudson. When he had inspected the Tigers following the last attack, he had found that sustained machine gun fire had done a great deal of damage to some of them. Flesh had been torn away by bullets as well as through impacts with obstacles. Most of the zombies continued to function perfectly well with such damage, as did those new zombies who had been recruited from among the enemy ranks. In the worst cases, limbs had been damaged beyond the point of repair, with these zombies having to be put down. Few had taken any damage to the head, but he knew from the reports of the action, that those shot in the brain had fallen instantly. He would have to make a recommendation to the Colonel. Clearly there was grounds to protect key joints and heads, thereby improving the battlefield survivability of the already tough zombies. Prisoner interrogation had also shown that the enemy did not yet know how to handle the zombies in any consistently effective way. The Germans were terrified by the Tigers, likely terrified of becoming a zombie. However, any head protection for the Tigers could reduce the element of fear that the enemy felt, highlighting the weakness so that the enemy could take precise counter-actions. Furthermore, any head protection might also further limit the ability of the Tigers to function aggressively by restricting their movements, senses or attack methods.

  One of the chief concepts that Marsh intended to propose to the Colonel, was that any attack should not be preceded by an artillery barrage. Marsh was certain that if he could get the Tigers close enough to the enemy trench, the element of surprise would completely overcome the defenders. He knew he could move the Tigers quickly and quietly, using the carnage of no-mans-land to conceal them. This would ensure the maximum shock value while also reducing the opportunity for the enemy to return fire. As long as the follow-up troops were sent as soon as the assault team went in, then there would be little chance of the enemy regaining the trench. Potentially, such a surprise could quickly be followed by an immediate attack on the reserve trenches with the potential for a breakthrough. The whole approach would make an extended, and expensive, artillery barrage a redundancy that would simply warn the enemy to prepare for an impending attack.

>   'Got you peeling spuds again has he.' Wells had crept up on him, a great big smile on his face.

  'Pull up a stool and give me a hand.' Marsh gestured at a spare ammunition box that would serve as a stool. There were several sacks of spuds waiting to be peeled ready for the cooks later in the afternoon, 'What's that you're hiding?'

  'Oh this.' Wells revealed a large and strange looking gun that he had been concealing behind his back, 'It's a Chauchat...'

  'A what?' Marsh interrupted, perplexed by the name.

  'Chauchat. It's a French machine gun that's small enough to be fired by one soldier. Thought it would be useful so got myself one.'

  'Where'd you pick it up?' Marsh asked.

  'You really don't want to know.' Wells grinned and lit a cigarette instead of helping his friend with the potatoes, 'It's light piece of kit, so will be really useful in a trench and carries 20 rounds which it can fire pretty damn quick. That makes it ideal for storming a trench or taking the head of a zombie. No fussy reloading after every shot, smooth and quick instead.'

  'But the magazine is open.' Marsh thought he had spotted the obvious problem with the weapon and was rather proud that despite his competence as a soldier, he had managed to quickly identify a weakness with a new weapon. 'You'll get mud in it and the whole thing will jam.'

  'Well, the Frenchie who gave it to me pointed that out, but as we're not likely to be rolling around in trenches for weeks on end, I thought it would be fine. Besides, he told me if you grease the cartridges and only put nineteen into the magazine, it's less likely to jam. Also said short bursts of three of four shots are the way to use it, as the barrel overheats quickly. Also it goes off target if you fire too many at a time.' Wells grinned as he passed the weapon over. 'And it will stop dead anything it hits, makes it perfect for what we're up to.'

  'It's light.' Marsh hefted the weapon, looking it over. 'Really basic and you can't stick a bayonet on the end.' Marsh was far more interested in inspecting the weapon than in the potatoes he needed to work through.