Angels at Mons

by Carl Leckey

  The Sergeant gives us orders. “Get buckets of hot water from the kitchen lads. I’ll arrange a sand box fire to warm the old girls up.”

  It appears my budding romance is on a rocky path again with one step forward and two steps back.

  In the kitchen I explain the situation to the sympathetic cook Sergeant he promises to inform Denise of the situation. I am upset because I have nothing to leave her for Christmas except a bar of chocolate. He assures me she will appreciate the gesture.

  We return with the steaming buckets and fill the radiators. Meanwhile the Sergeant had acquired some boxes filled with sand and pours petrol into them. He sets them on fire before pushing the boxes under the sumps to thin the engine oil.

  It takes some energetic swinging on the starting handles before the engines start up. I am glad to be driving again but the thought of leaving Denise takes the shine off it. We drive our vehicles to the front door the Sergeant goes inside while I remain with the vehicles keeping the engines running.

  Jake returns the buckets to the kitchen and retrieves our kit. The cook gives him parcels of food for the journey. The hospital staff have already loaded my ambulance up with stores requested by the casualty station.

  We clothe ourselves in every piece of kit we can reasonably wear.

  The Sergeant returns and dons his extra clothing then climbs into his cab. Jake joins me and we are off, loaded to the gills. It is the Sergeant’s idea to load all the stores into my ambulance he explains the reason for this.

  “It’ll give you more traction Scouse. I’ll keep my vehicle empty in case we encounter some casualties.”

  As we turn to join the main drive to the camp below, I see a female figure at one of the downstairs open windows waving goodbye, I cannot be sure if it is Denise but I hope so and return the wave.

  As we pass the Chateau chapel where Denise has invited me for a midnight tryst I have to smile. Dominating the entrance to the chapel stands a huge Angel, wings outstretched as if in flight. That’s appropriate I muse, my guardian Angel is leaving with me. What would my mate Toot make of that coincidence?

  As we load petrol at the dump before proceeding, the Sergeant informs us the Adjutant has been in contact with the hospital inquiring of our whereabouts.

  “I’ve no choice you see lads we have to make a try for our base or I’ll be in the shit, it would have been nice to spend Christmas here just the same.” He adds wistfully.

  We move onto the side road leading to the main highway. A steam traction engine is patrolling up and down using its bulk to clear the snow ahead of us. After a couple of nail biting skids I make it to the main highway and join the endless line of vehicles heading towards the front line, so much for Christmas in a warm happy peaceful sanctuary.

  It is back to the perpetual horror of war for us in the season of good will and peace to all men, what a sick joke are these religious festivals in the trenches of the Great War.

  The enemy has developed a new tactic, their aeroplanes are attacking the supply lines, as we travel along we pass many burnt out trucks and slaughtered teams of horses dumped in surrounding fields. The sky is as clear as a summer’s day despite the winter conditions as we inch our way nearer to the front line I see the reason for the devastation, a flight of enemy bombers heads towards us.

  There is no escape, nowhere to take cover with the vehicles, snow and roadside ditches block any exit from the road.

  The first bombs hit a vehicle somewhere ahead which explodes in a spectacular fire work display.

  “They must have hit an ammo cart.” Jake shouts as we grind to a halt.

  The bomber is followed by a single enemy plane machine gunning the infantry soldiers moving to and from the front. The soldiers take cover in the frozen snowdrifts, in ditches, and behind and under vehicles.

  Some brave or stupid lads stand unafraid firing their rifles at the attacker, myself I am petrified. Experience has taught me after the other aerial bombing we have to get under cover, any kind of cover. The Sergeant in the vehicle immediately ahead of mine leaps out of his cab and dives under his ambulance.

  Jake and I follow his example and take cover under ours just as the sound of ricocheting bullets grows closer. When the plane passes overhead I hear the patter of his fire hitting our ambulance. Close by there is another explosion, then the raid ceases as suddenly as it began.

  We crept nervously from under the ambulance in time to see the enemy plane racing away towards its own lines.

  Someone shouts. “There’s some more of the Bastards coming, take cover lads.”

  Screams of wounded men and horses still fills the air from the first attack and another one is upon us.

  As we take cover again a flight of British planes arrives and breaks up the impending attack. They scatter the German planes all over the sky but thankfully away from the crowded road.

  A ragged cheer goes up from the survivors, drowning out the sounds of the battle aftermath. On a quick inspection, my ambulance appears unscathed except for rips in the canvas roof. After I examine the goods in the rear I conclude they have without a doubt saved our lives. The bags of flour, bales of bandages and dressings have taken the impact of the bullets, preventing them passing through the bottom boards. If the bullets had come through they would have hit us and other vital pieces of the ambulance. We must thank the Sergeant for loading our vehicle it certainly saved our lives.

  My guardian Angel has intervened on my behalf again.

  I walk around the vehicle checking every detail, when I reach the cab the engine is still ticking over. I had inadvertently left the blooming engine running in my panic when I jumped clear. Just as well Toot isn’t here to witness my mistake

  The slight wind changes thick black acrid smoke drifts my way making me cough. I look for the source of the smoke with tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “Bloody Hell Jake, it’s the Sergeants ambulance come on mate.”

  We struggle and push our way through the dazed infantry until we reach his blazing vehicle.

  My heart plummets, a pair of feet protrude from underneath, the petrol tank has exploded and the ambulance burns fiercely. The flames make it impossible to get near enough to pull him clear. Unbelievably some of the battle hardened soldier stand around the vehicle warming themselves. They appear unconcerned about the mayhem surrounding them. The men laugh and joke about their near miss and ridicule one of their comrades that has stood his ground firing his rifle at the attacking plane. A big jovial chap takes all their jibes with fun he in turn ridicules them for diving for cover behind a snowdrift. How can ordinary men be turned into such unfeeling chaps as these? Surrounded as they are by screams of wounded and dead comrades, yet they still trade insults with each other and joke about the War.

  War the great brutiliser of human beings. I suppose what they are witnessing on this occasion appears minor to their experiences in the front line. On the other hand fresh green troops heading to battle for the first time are acting quite differently.

  Virgin soldiers an NCO once described them, a thousand years ago or so it seems.

  They hunch together in groups completely dazed. From their posture and remarks, most of them have experienced the first battle shits and they are as ashamed as I was when it happened to me.

  Whistles blow NCOs and Officers are beginning to organise things, infantrymen are rallied into work parties. Bombed and wrecked vehicles are rolled off the roads, screaming horses are being shot and dragged into ditches. The dead bodies of the fallen soldiers are laid in rows ready for pickup. All the weapons and other pieces of equipment are collected and stacked ready for collection by? I have no idea. I have never given a thought to this aspect of war. The wounded are being gathered and loaded onto carts. Life must go on in this mad, mad world of warfare

  Jake brings the shovels from our vehicle and we cast snow onto the Sergeants burning ambulance in an attempt to quell the flames.

  A hatless Officer with his uniform in tatters approaches,
his shoulder pips identify him as a Captain.

  Jake and I salute. “Carry on chaps.” he orders. “Are you the men from that ambulance?”

  “Yes Sir,” I acknowledge. “This is our Sergeant’s vehicle, looks like he bought it Sir. I saw him dive for cover when that plane attacked.”

  “It’s too bad chaps. I could have used that ambulance, but we must get the road open and vehicles moving, do you think you can squeeze past? You see I want to start loading you up with casualties.”

  I reply. “Er. I er.” As usual I am tongue tied when faced with authority. The Captain loses patience as I appear to hesitate.

  “Come on there’s a good chap give it a go will you. I’m sorry about your Sergeant but there are a lot more fellow’s here that need you now. Pull yourself together and get that vehicle moving right now, do you understand. I’m ordering you not asking.”

  Jake responds to his threat on my behalf.

  “It’s not that we are refusing to obey Sir, it’s just the ambulance is full of urgent supplies for the casualty station. There is no room for wounded come and see for yourself Sir.” Jake invites the Captain to examine our load.

  A quick glance into the back of ambulance verified our dilemma. This Captain is a sharp one he looks about and solves the problem immediately.

  Chapter twenty-six

  An ambulance trailer

  Gathering a number of infantrymen together he orders them to strip the dead horses of the harnesses. He takes some of the lads to an empty supply wagon he has located. They drag and manoeuvre the wagon behind me, then utilising the leather harnesses and chains he arranges them into a makeshift towing gear. Then he attaches them between the rear of my vehicle and the shafts of the wagon. On completion of the task he orders me. “Move forward, give it a try.” When the rig works perfectly he orders the men to move the supplies from the ambulance and stack them onto the wagon circling the outer edge. These are covered with gas capes from the dead soldiers to protect the valuable goods from the elements.

  The bales and other goods are lashed down, in the centre of the wagon they lay some of the casualties. They then load my ambulance with the more seriously wounded and we are off again on our trip to the casualty station.

  As I pass the Sergeants ambulance it is now just a blackened skeleton, even though I hate religion I silently ask God to look after this good mans soul.

  It seems a lifetime behind the wheel before we arrive at the station in darkness, what a Christmas Eve this has been. I have seen a close colleague killed, been machine gunned, bombed myself and survived yet again, and driven for the first time in the dark plus towing a trailer. But in my greatest achievement on the memorable day, at the tender age of seventeen I have been in sole command of the vehicles full of casualties, and I have successfully got them back to base. I wallow proudly in the congratulations of the Doctors and my mates until some of the shine is taken off when three of the casualties are found to be dead on arrival.

  Christmas day came and went with no let up in the fighting and no noticeable festivities at the station, we continue the routine runs back and forth to the front line with no Major incidents.

  New Years eve the day passes uncelebrated except for a burst of star shells and a song or two from a rum sodden casualty. One blessing we have to thank HQ for, our Flying Corp appears more frequently overhead keeping the enemy planes at bay and giving staff and patients a much needed respite from the nightly raids.

  The newly arranged pick up site is excellent, located in a partially destroyed village with a copse of trees giving us cover from the enemy artillery on our approach. As an added bonus the location is pretty near to the front line without us having to risk the ambulances. The exhausted stretcher-bearers certainly appreciate we are picking up the casualties so close to the action. A week or so after the bombing incident the snow thaws, I’m unsure of how long after as time became a blur with dates meaning nothing anymore

  Day light and dark define our times of duty as the whole front line turns into a vast quagmire. Although the lads moaned about the cold when everything froze, at least they never had to deal with the filthy mud.

  My heart goes out to the stretcher-bearers as they stagger towards us utterly fatigued, but they continue to return time and again to retrieve the casualties

  There isn’t one man from Sandy’s contingent I recognise, the turn- over of these brave men is heart rending. One day when we had word with them they report another three had been killed.

  I ask Jake “Where does the war department keep finding the likes of them after three years of war?”

  Jake shrugs and answers. “I suppose they will always find brave buggers that refuse to fight somewhere.”

  I counter this with, “What kind of men would risk almost certain death or wounding for a principle?”

  He replies “Scouse my old mate, you should concentrate on keeping yourself alive and stop worrying about others.”

  The question constantly plagues my mind. Out of all the men that serve on the front line I reckon they are the bravest.

  Toot and Sam return with two brand spanking new ambulances, loaded with a new contingent of stretcher-bearers and stores. Toots trip to the coast has given him a much needed leave because the new ambulances had not arrived on schedule at Le Havre. He found out later it was because the transport ship had been sunk by a U boat on passage from the USA.

  He had enjoyed ten days at home with his wife and kids before returning to pick up the new vehicles at Dover docks.

  We shower him with questions about conditions in blighty, Toot informs us, everywhere he has been in England and on the continent Americans fill the pubs and dance halls.

  “There’s millions of them.” he explains, “and they are heading this way, this lot should all be over soon.”

  He knew about the death of the Sergeant, and his promotion to full Corporal had been confirmed. At the port he had been ordered to act as motor pool Sergeant until a replacement arrived.

  “I have good news for you Scouse, your position as a permanent driver is verified in written orders.”

  Jake and I describe the horrible Christmas Eve on the way back from the Chateau when the Sergeant was killed. Because we have lost two vehicles, the two additional new ambulances only bring us up to scratch but give us no leeway.

  Toot gathers all the transport lads together and explains what he has planned for our operation. He will remain at the pool and administrate, organise repairs and be available as a spare driver until the replacement Sergeant arrives.

  Sam is allocated one of the new ambulances and one of the other senior drivers the other.

  Jake shows interest in being a driver and he is to be trained by Sam.

  Billy and Dave’s transfer to transport has been approved by the Adjutant, they will join us tomorrow.

  I have a choice of the two lads and select Billy for my second man, Dave will help out with the servicing and repairing of the vehicles.

  Toot admires the improvised trailer, and considers adapting some of the horse drawn carts we have in stock. Unfortunately, when he puts the plan to the Adjutant later, he is forbidden to progress the idea any further.

  We believe jealousy played a part in the lousy shits decision.

  I tell him something I consider pretty amusing to cheer him up.

  “On the previous run I spotted an abandoned charabanc stuck in the middle of a field, you know one of those open topped ones they use in the summer at the seaside.” He nods and I continue.

  “I had taken a detour to avoid the ruined road and intense traffic.”

  He asks “Is it buggered?” Puzzled by his interest I reply.

  “I don’t know, it seems to have been frozen in the mud to me. I’ll check it out on my next trip if you like.”

  He orders. “Yes, do that, but don’t take too long messing about in an open field, just in case the Hun spots you.”

  Toot promises. “I’ll ride with you and have a look when I get the
time.” On the next trip I give it a cursory scan and can’t detect any grievous damage. I inform Toot on my return trip.

  He goes into one of his thoughtful moods. I know the signs my mate is planning something or other.

  Life continues, days become weeks, the slaughter goes on. Toot runs the transport efficiently and now accepts his position of authority with ease. Billy and Dave with the agreement of Toot, take it in turns to ride to the front line with me, I allow them to drive on a couple of occasions.

  Toot continues with my education until eventually I feel confident enough to write my first letter to Denise. A letter once a week arrives from her, thanks to the drivers who deliver the treated casualties onward to the hospital.

  I painstakingly write the letter, slightly embarrassed I hand it to Toot for him to check it through before I dare send it. He reads it without comment and gives me the thumbs up sign. I thank him, relieved and very proud of my achievement. I hand it to the driver, instructing him to deliver it either to Denise herself if possible, or the cook Sergeant if she isn’t available.

  She evidently likes my letter and the sentiments I express, as a result, her return letters become more passionate.

  Whenever I receive a letter from her I hide myself away alone in a corner and read it time and again. I reciprocate to her passionate words and find myself expressing feelings in a similar manner. Thank goodness I don’t need anyone reading or writing the letters for me anymore, it would have been most embarrassing if the lads had sight of the contents.

  Toot, due to his patience has changed my life completely. He became like a Father figure to all of the young men serving with him. Although he doesn’t express it openly I know he is very proud of his own achievement as the teacher of Dave, Billy, and Jake.

  Billy leaves the station to enjoy a forty eight hour pass, riding on one of the supply trucks heading for the rail head. Despite our pestering he will not divulge his destination. We suspect he will be spending much of his time and money in brothels.

  Toot decides to ride with me to the front line, he says to keep his hand in, but the real reason I know he is with me is to look the abandoned charabanc over. The road has totally disintegrated by now, when the fields are frozen we often take detours. The fact that the ambulance is constructed with four-wheel drive gets us out of many scrapes.