Chapter (10) THE CRATER. (Going Home)

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THE CRATER

 

In the middle of no-mans land, two men lay together in a water filled shell crater. Their bodies caked in blood stained mud. Motionless, with glazed eyes they stare at the sky.

 

“I heard some of the Frenchies refused to attack the Gerry trenches, sarge. Do you reckon it’s true?” The young Private continued to gaze out at the grey clouds.

“Best keep gossip like that to yourself lad.” The sergeant put another woodbine between his lips and pushed the tattered packet, back into the breast pocket of his tattered tunic. He looked at the silver lighter a second, before flicking the flint wheel. The small yellow flame illuminated his face as he lit the cigarette, showing the dried mud and blood splattered across his face.

“’Ere, Sarge. How long we been in this hole?” The Sergeant inhaled deeply on his cigarette before blowing a cloud of acrid smoke towards the sky.

“Don’t know lad. Sometimes I think we’ve been here forever.” The Sergeant tried to move his legs in the thick mud, nothing happened.

“That Gerry machine gun has been quiet for a long time. You reckon he’s still out there sarge?” The Sergeant took another long drag on his cigarette.

“You want to stick your head up and take a look, Private Wilson?” The private smiled.

“Nah. I’m good sarge.” The two men lay back against the damp muddy side of the shell crater and stared at the grey-clouded sky. The private was the first to break the silence.

“Hey Sarge. I wonder what’s going on in the trenches. You think many of our platoon made it back alive. It’s been a long time since we saw anybody.”

“Don’t know lad.” Replied the sergeant. “Those Gerry machine guns made a bloody mess of the attack.” The private took a handful of mud and threw it with venom as he recalled the carnage.

“Aye and I reckon our own artillery killed as many. Dropping those bloody shells right in the middle our boys.” As he spoke the sergeant’s blank expression changed as he looked down at his chest and inserted a finger into a blood stained hole in his tunic.

“You think they’ll come look for us?” Asked the private. The sergeant had been wondering the same thing for a long time, he turned his head to look at the soldier, a doubtful frown on his face.

“You know what lad, you’re right. The attack was over long ago. We should’ve heard the medics shouting by now.” The sergeant strained to look over the rim of the crater.

“Can you hear anything lad?” Asked the sergeant. The private didn’t immediately understand the question.

“Sarge??” he asked.

“What can you hear lad?” Repeated the sergeant. The private sat up a little and listened. After a few seconds he answered the sergeant.

“I can’t hear anything sarge.” A smile formed on the sergeant’s mud caked face.

“Exactly lad. When was the last time it was quiet for more than a few seconds. When the attacks finish there’s always gun shots and shouting all over the place.” Looking at the sergeant the private shrugged his shoulders and added.

“The shelling stopped too sarge.” To the two men, the quiet suddenly became obvious.

“The shelling stopped.” Repeated the private, not quite able to believe his ears.

“Aye lad. The shelling stopped.” The sergeant put his hands by his sides and pushed back trying to lift himself into a sitting position. He spat the remains of his cigarette into the brown soupy water. Putting his hands around his mouth to form a funnel, the sergeant shouted as loudly as he could.

“MEDIC.....MEDIC.” The two men sat and waited for a reply, but none came.

“Try again sarge.” Said the private. The sergeant cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again.

“MEDIC...OVER HERE.” The silence made the men uncomfortable. Neither man spoke for some time.

“Sarge? What’s going on?” There was a nervousness in the private’s voice.

“I don’t know lad. Let me think for a bit.” The sergeant too felt uneasy.

“You still got your rifle lad?” Asked the sergeant.

“Yes sarge but it’s full of water and mud, don’t know if it’ll fire.” The private reached across and pulled his Lee Enfield out of the mud. He tried to wipe as much of the mud as he could off his rifle. He pulled the bolt back, the breach was empty. The private lifted the rifle up to the sky and looked down the barrel. No chink of light was visible.

“It’s full of mud sarge, it’s never going to fire. I don’t have any ammo anyway.” The private let the rifle drop, his wet hand still gripping the barrel. The sergeant wanted to stand up and but found he couldn’t move his legs.

“Something’s not right  Private Wilson. I can’t move. I reckon it’s safe enough to take quick look over the top. Get up there lad. Tell me what you can see.” The Private tried to turn over but found he couldn’t move either.

“Sarge, SARGE.. I can’t get up. My legs are numb.” Panic rose in the private’s voice as he reached down to massage his legs. His hands followed his thighs as far as his knees and then he felt only mud. The private grabbed the rifle and tried to lift himself up with it but as he pushed down, the rifle sank into the mud.

“SAARGE.” Cried the private. “SARGE. I can’t feel my legs. Where are my legs?” The sergeant didn’t answer, he eyes were focused on the grey-clouded sky. Small patches of lighter clouds had started to appear in the blanket of grey.

         The shell that made the crater they were lying in, had killed the men as they attacked across the body-strewn mud of the Somme. Red-hot shrapnel from the shell had removed the private’s legs at the the knees. A smaller, but just as deadly piece of shrapnel had burned through the sergeant’s chest. The men had died instantly from their wounds.

 

         The early morning sun slowly warmed the land and as the last of the autumn mist disappeared, two men stood looking at the field of stubble before them.

“It’s been a hundred years mate. Do you think we’ll find anything?” Asked the taller of the two men.

“This area of the Somme battlefield is the least detected. So we could be lucky.” Replied his colleague. The man switched on his powerful metal detector. He adjusted the dials until the humming stopped. Dropping a coin into the stubble he moved his detector back and forth over the coin. A final adjustment of the dials and he was ready to start.

“Farmers are unearthing munitions all the time mate, so we have to be careful.” The taller man took a spade and a sack from the back of the Land Rover.

“The German trenches were over by that hedge line.” Said the man with detector as he pointed out the area to his friend. “Apparently our troops got about half way to the German lines when their own artillery fell short and blew them to pieces.”

“Poor b******s.” Said the tall man. Pointing once again to an area a couple of hundred yards into the field the man with the metal detector said.

“I think we should start over there.” Neither man spoke as they made their way out into the field, each reflecting on the conflict that had been played on the ground beneath their feet.

“I think this will be as good a place as any to start mate.” The man turned on his machine and started to move slowly forward passing the detector back and forth across the stubble just in front of his feet. Up and down the field the men walked. The morning sun was now high in the sky.

“Are you sure that thing is working.” Asked the tall man. “We’ve been walking up and down for two hours and all we’ve found is an old nail and a horse shoe.” Just as he said it the second man stood stock-still. He passed the detector back and forth over a small patch of ground directly in front of him. He said nothing but turned his head to look at his colleague.

“What....WHAT?” Said the tall man.

“It’s a huge signal mate. It went off the scale. I reckon it could be a shell.” He removed the detector battery pack from his belt, took off the headphones and laid the machinery carefully down on the ground.

“Be careful with the spade mate. I’ll run back and get the cleaning trowels.” Before the tall man could speak his friend had turned away and was jogging quickly back in the direction of the Land Rover. The tall man placed the blade of the spade onto the hard earth and putting his foot onto it and pushed gently down. The spade cut about two inches into the reluctant ground. The tall man repeated the procedure until he’d cleared the stubble from a piece of ground about two feet by two foot. Using the detector he checked the location of the signal. The headphone pinged loudly in his ear. Whatever lay beneath the surface, it wasn’t very deep. His friend reappeared with a small bag.

“Anything mate?” He asked as he dropped to his knees and rummaged in the bag for a trowel.

“I’ll take off another inch or two but then I think we should do it all with hand tools mate. It’s a hell of a signal.” The tall man continued to carefully scrape away the hard ground with the spade. Checking constantly with the machine. The signal grew louder each time. When he’d removed about six inches of soil he put the spade aside and dropped to his knees next to his friend.

“Pass me a trowel mate.” For the next two hours the men knelt in the stubble, gently removing the soil, scrape by scrape, hand full by hand full. The autumn sun still had plenty of heat in it and burned through their clothes to sting their backs.

“I’ll fetch some more water.” Said the tall man as he stood up.

“I’ll come with you mate.” Said his friend. “We’ve gone down about a foot and a half and I reckon we deserve a bit of a break. The two men made their way slowly back to the vehicle. Each pondering on what was hidden in their hole and could be making such a powerful signal. Reaching the Land Rover the tall man reached into the back and opened the cooler box. He lifted out a bottle of spring water they’d purchased from the village shop. Condensation quickly clouded the outside of the plastic bottle.

“There’s some beers in the box mate.” Said the other man.

“You think we should? If it turns out to be a live shell or Mortar we’ll have to notify the police.” Replied the tall man.

“Good thinking mate. Let’s stick to water. We can celebrate later.” The tall man took a long drink from the water bottle. He wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand as he passed the bottle to his friend. The shade from the trees along farm track made a pleasant break from the heat of the field.

“Do you want something to eat mate?” Asked the tall man as he reached into the cooler box for a second time and removed two foil wraps. He passed one to his friend. The cheese filled baguettes were soon consumed and after another good drink of the refreshing water the two friends made their way back out into the bright sunshine.

 

“’ere sarge...I reckon that bit of sky is getting lighter.” Said the young soldier as gripped the barrel of his rifle with his left hand to steady himself and raised his right arm to point at a patch of lighter sky.

“Aye lad, I’ve been watching it for a while.” Replied the sergeant. Then continued. “It looks like a square but it’s not getting any bigger, just lighter.”

 

Passing the detector once more over the hole the signal was now a constant whistle.

“We must be close now mate.” Said the tall man as he scraped his trowel across the darker soil. The trowel suddenly came to a stop. The tall man didn’t move, he just looked at his friend.

“What?... WHAT?” Asked his friend.

“I’ve hit something mate. It felt like metal.” The two men just knelt facing each other. After a few seconds the tall man said.

“Okay. You step back and I’ll gently remove my trowel, just in case, eh?” His friend got up and moved backwards. The tall man very slowly moved his trowel away.

“So far so good mate.” He called to his friend. “I’m going to try and move some of the soil away with my pocket knife. After ten long minutes the tall man called to his friend.

“It’s okay mate, I think It’s a bit of pipe sticking up. You can come back now.” Kneeling once again by the hole the two men studied the end of the thick pipe.

“It’s a bit strange mate. See if you can clean anymore away from it.” The tall man began to scrape at the blackened soil and when he’d uncovered about six inches it became obvious what they were looking at.

“It’s the barrel of a gun mate. It’s rusty, but it’s definitely a gun barrel.” The excitement in his voice echoed by the tall man as he echoed his friend.

“It’s a bloody gun barrel. We found a rifle mate.” The two men jumped up and hugged and congratulated each other and started to dance about like children around the hole. The celebrations were short lived and the two friends returned to clearing the soil from the old rifle. With each trowel-full of soil the men removed they grew more excited. Suddenly  the tall man stopped moving.

“What is it mate?” Asked his friend. The two men where kneeling facing each other but the tall man’s face had lost its colour.

“Is...that...what I think it is?” Said the tall man pointing to a small brown object closed around the rusty barrel.

“Oh good God.” Exclaimed the older man. “It’s a finger bone.” The two men stood up. The older man spoke first.

“We have to tell the authorities mate. We can’t do any more, there might be more bones. It might be a long lost soldier.” An hour later the two men found themselves in the local Gendarmerie.

A week later the two men stood and watched as a group of archaeologist continued to excavate the hole. The area had been considerably enlarged and was protected from prying eyes on all sides by a tall canvas screen.

Over the next week the team of specialists  uncovered two skeletons still carrying the remnants of British army uniforms. One skeletal hand still gripped the barrel of his rusted rifle. In what remained of a tunic pocket they found a leather wallet. It was carefully opened and when the contents had been preserved and studied the name of Private Wilson had been found. The remains of the two soldiers were gathered up and placed in temporary wooden coffins to be transported back to  England.

 

“Sarge that sky is really bright. I can’t see any clouds at all now.” The sergeant didn’t answer, he was staring blankly at the bright light.

“Sarge. What’s happening.... everything is going dark. SAAARGE......”

The sergeant’s eyes remained fixed on the bright light.

“It’s alright lad. It’s alright.” He said in a calming voice.

“They’ve found us. We’re going home.”

Author's Note

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