The attack. A short story by Charles Roberts

 

Willie Barlow, sixteen years old, stood in the water filed and muddy trench, his teeth chattering and his body shaking with nerves.  He was cold, tired, scared, and about to go over the top, for the first time, to meet whatever hand fate dealt him.  He’d joined the Army when the rest of his mates from the mill joined, he didn’t want to be left out so he lied about his age.  His instructors always looked at him sideways as much to say as we know that you’re too young, but you must have guts lad.

          His mum had been dead against him joining up as his dad had been killed in the Boar war, miles away in South Africa; all she had to remember him were his medals and a letter from the Queen.  Fix bayonets was called from somewhere to Willie’s right, he had trouble pulling it from the webbing scabbard which hung from the belt on his left hip and then almost dropped it into the mud he was shaking so much.

          He felt a calming hand on his shoulder, “no rush lad,” the sergeant said as he walked calmly by, “take your time, we have plenty of that.  Now then lad take this bag of mills bombs with you, if you get the chance throw them into the enemies trenches; you do know how to use a mills bomb don’t you?” 

“Yes sergeant," he replied, "pull the pin and throw it with all your might towards the enemy trench, then drop to the ground.” 

“That’s the way Willie my lad.”  Willie pulled the strap over his head and put his left arm through it so that he could pull the bombs out with his right hand, then he fitted his bayonet to his rifle, but found that he’d stopped shaking.  Somehow the little chat with the sergeant had given him reassurance and courage; now he was ready to go over the top.

Suddenly the whistles blew up and down the trench and all the men dashed up the short ladders and over the parapet onto the field of battle, Willie was in the first line so he dashed up with the rest and ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards the enemy.  A little voice in his head kept telling him that today was going to be his day.

He could see an enemy machine gun nest slightly to his left and another about a hundred yards to his right as he clambered over the barbed wire; bodies still hanging from it left over from the previous charge, something told him to go towards the nest on the left.  Shells were exploding all around and machine gun and rifle bullets whistled as they passed him, “you never hear the one that gets you,” he’d been told.

He threw himself into a water filled shell hole as the bullets started to hit the ground round him. The mud being kicked up as they hit the top edge of the shell hole, he adjusted his tin hat and peeked over the top of the ejected muddy soil and took a guess that he was about seventy yards from the machine gun nest he had been running towards.  Can I throw that far? He asked himself as more bullets kicked up the mud of the shell hole.

He waited for a slight lull then crawled to the next water filled shell hole, he’d only moved about ten yards forward, but estimated that he was close enough to use a mills bomb.  He was just about to take one out of the satchel when a shell exploded just over the edge of his sheltering place, covering him mud and shattering both his ear drums making him quite deaf.  He pulled himself together and took out a mills bomb, standing he threw it with all his might at the machine gun nest; as he was dropping back into his shelter he saw the grenade hit the top of the parapet round the nest and roll in.

After he’d counted to thirty he peered over the top of his shell hole and saw that they had stopped firing.  He jumped up and ran towards the machine gun nest and jumped over the sandbag parapet to see the three gunners lying dead.  He turn the gun towards the other machine gun nest about a hundred yards down the trenches and opened fire.

He could see his bullets hitting the sandbags and two of the men disappear, as the gun fell silent, at this time the rest, all those of his mates who were still alive, arrived and attacked the trenches, winning one small battle in a bloody war.  Willie was given a medal and sent home, his world filled with the sound of silence until his dying day.