Uneven Odds

October 1914 - Belgium

“Wait, quiet.”  The commander's voice cut through the air.  

The other five men continued to chatter, but Remi had already tuned them out.  He focused on their commander, who was now standing straight up.  He was an imposing man with a perfectly waxed moustache, but at this moment Remi found himself thinking he looked like a gopher that had popped out of his hole, chuckling as he focused on his commander’s thoughts.  He was afraid, but Remi couldn’t quite understand what of.  Maybe the commander didn’t quite know either.  He hears something, and thinks he can see something… He can almost make sense of it, make something out…

“Shut up, boys! Shut up!”  The commander whispered harshly, whipping around to face the patrol group.  

At his urgency, the rest of the men ceased conversation and were on full alert.  Remi was already looking around the dense forest wildly.  He knew what the order was going to be.

“Climb! Find a tree and climb! Don’t stop until you reach the top, don’t make a sound, and don’t come down! Go!”  The commander’s voice was frantic. “It’s the Germans! They’re coming this way! Hundreds of them!”

The group scrambled, everyone trying to find a decent tree that would hold their weight.  Remi found one quickly, and hurried up the branches with ease.  The branches moaned with his weight, but he ignored it.  Once he reached a branch that bent too far for his liking, Remi stopped and wrapped his arms around the trunk, locking his fingers together on the other side and gripping for his life.  He pressed his cheek into the bark and closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing.

Once the adrenaline that had propelled him up the tree subsided, he started to notice where the branches had scratched his hands and face.  They started to sting, so Remi bit down on his lower lip and grabbed onto the trunk tighter.  His eyes shot open again when he suddenly had a thought in German.  Not his own thought, another person’s that he happened to hear.

Remi glanced down at the forest floor, inhaling sharply when he saw the large number of Germans marching below.  His cheek was beginning to grow sore from being pressed against the bark.  Remi looked back up, making eye contact with a soldier from the patrol group named Marcel.  He quickly shot a look at the Germans far below them, then mouthed “I’m scared.”  Remi nodded slowly, replying with “Me too.”

• • • • •

It felt like hours had passed since the group first climbed up the trees, and it was now nearly dark.  The last of the German soldiers had made their way through about 20 minutes ago, but nobody was sure if there was going to be any more or not.  Remi had almost fallen asleep a couple of times, and he was starting to doze off again when he heard his commanding officer tell them all to start descending.  Remi lifted his head from the bark, rubbing his now quite sore cheek and listening intently.  He hadn’t heard any stray German thought for a while, and he was no longer able to signal one out.  They were gone.

Remi was about halfway down the tree when he heard the familiar whistling of a shell.  His blood ran cold, and he hid as well as he could behind the trunk.  Seconds later, there was an explosion, followed by loud screams.  It was powerful enough to almost shake Remi from his position, but he grabbed onto a branch and righted himself before falling.  Someone else hadn’t been as lucky, though, as Remi could hear yelling and the sound of something crashing through the branches.  Through the darkening trees, Remi could make out a shape fall the last few metres to the ground, then the screaming stopped.

Whereas earlier Remi had been fighting to get up the tree, now he was desperate to get out of it.  He jumped from branch to branch, almost like he was flying towards the earth.  Another explosion caused Remi to lose his footing on the last branch, and he fell the last meter to the ground, landing hard on his left ankle.  He cried out, squeezing his fist tightly and sucking in air before breaking into a sprint.  His ankle erupted in pain with every step, and it wasn’t long before Remi had to stop.

He grabbed his ankle and let out a loud sob as more shells pounded the forest.  A large amount of earth launched into the air off in the distance, trees flying high above the leafy canopy before crashing back down.  Watching the earth swell and scatter after being hit by a shell was unlike anything Remi had ever seen before.  He would have found it beautiful, had it not been so deadly.  Remi scanned his surroundings.  Everyone else had already run back to the trenche almost five kilometers to the west.  Remi hesitated for a moment, trying to remember what direction the Germans had been heading in.  They had been walking perpendicular to the setting sun - the weren’t heading towards the French trenches.

The shelling increased, and Remi threw himself onto the ground for cover.  After a few seconds, he looked up, then gasped.  Right next to him was the face and body of Marcel, but nothing else.  His legs were gone, separated cleanly at the waist.  Remi scrambled away from the body, then looked up.  There, high in the branches, were a pair of legs, still straddling a tree branch.  Remi yelled something, but two blasts in rapid succession brought him to his feet once more.  He no longer noticed the pain in his ankle as he ran towards the trench.  His heart pounded in his ears, and he could barely see through the sweat and fear clouding his vision.  All he could do was run and pray.

The trees eventually started to thin out and the lights of his trench came into view, but Remi didn’t slow down.  He kept running until he was over the barbed wire and safely in the trench.  Once inside, he collapsed against the muddy walls, sliding down to the ground and gripping his ankle, which had begun to hurt again after the second kilometer.  The other soldiers around were trying to figure out what was happening, but the commander who had taken him out in the first place pushed through and knelt down next to the young soldier.

“You ok son?”  He asked.

Remi shook his head.  “My ankle…”  He said between breaths.

The commander gestured for Remi to move his hands, then took his ankle and inspected it for a few seconds.  He moved it around a bit, causing Remi to cry out in pain.  He squeezed his eyes shut as the man moved it around a few more times, and when he opened his eyes black spots were dancing around the corners of his vision.

“It isn’t broken, just sprained.”  The commander said as he released Remi’s ankle and stood up.  “Can you walk?”

Remi got to his feet slowly.  He took a few steps forward, shaking slightly and wincing with each one.  He could walk, but it was quite painful.

“Yes.”  He replied.  “Barely, but yes.”

“Good.  I’m allowing some men to go back behind the lines a few days early.  A lorry is coming early tomorrow morning.  You have permission to join them.”

Remi stood up straighter and saluted.  “Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

The commander saluted back, then turned to walk the opposite direction.  The sound of explosions could still be heard not too far off, but it didn’t seem to be coming closer to the trench, so there was no cause for alarm.

Remi slumped against the dirt wall, pulling out his journal and opening to a fresh page.  He took out a piece of charcoal and began to draw, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle until morning.