Trench 1915, p.24
Trench 1915, page 24
“Thanks Fischer,” said Lothar.
“You can thank me when you come back alive, all of you. We’ll be waiting in Ragnarök Base. Bis später (See you later),” said Fischer as he climbed inside the armored tractor.
“All right! We are set. Start ‘em up!” yelled Kraus.
The vehicles’ engines roared to life. The Lincoln machine lurched forward with the prisoners walking on the side. Behind them were two Killen-strait tractors with their MG turrets trained on the prisoners. Though the vehicles did not move with great speed, they did negotiate the terrain well. Maxis and the others waved goodbye as the small convoy vanished into the forest.
“Let’s get into position men,” said Maxis.
The group walked over to the foxhole and dugouts. Maxis positioned himself on the heavy machine gun. By his side was Graf who loaded his slug rounds into the shotgun. Lothar got behind the mound he made for himself. Then they waited for Kruger to return to them.
“Maxis, I see Kruger and he is coming in fast,” announced Lothar, as he watched Kruger running and hopping over some of his traps. Kruger jumped in the foxhole and gave his report.
“Sarge, the British are closing in! Almost three hundred of them moving on the dirt road.”
“Alright, squad, do not fire until I give the go ahead. Kruger, take position. I have some words of inspiration to say.”
“We’re listening,” said Lothar.
“Stand fast men. We are experienced soldiers and know no fear. Let’s show Tommy how real soldier’s fight. Stand fast! Immer mits Präzision (Always with precision)!” Maxis finished and everyone shouted, “HURRA!”
“If we survive and succeed, I have a bottle for us all, courtesy of the Regiment of Britannia,” said Maxis as he points at his rucksack.
“HURRA!!!” Louder this time with excitement.
CHAPTER 21
Bloody Trap
The sound of bagpipes could be heard in the distance. The tune of “Scotland the Brave” grew louder and louder until the Regiment of Britannia came into view walking in formation. On the side of the formation is Cpt. Atkinson riding his horse and walking beside him was the bugle boy. Maxis pulled out his binoculars to take a closer look.
“Kruger, do you have a visual on the officer and the bugle boy?” he asked
“I have a visual. I also see the bagpipes near the back and the Scots marching with them.”
“Kruger, here is a set of targets for you. Take out the officer then bugle boy. Cut the leadership and their way of communication.”
“I see. Then they will be forced to charge into my traps. I laid out a lot of rigged artillery shells. HE type, and AP type are both scattered about with some special traps I made myself; a set of phosphorus and smoke shells on the second line, and last line is where gas shells are, in case we need to escape, the gas will cover our backs.”
“Perfect, Kruger. Fire when ready. The rest of you wait until I give you the go.”
The R.O.B. marched along steadily until a loud bang and a horse fell to its side dead. The bugle boy pulled out his horn but was immediately jerked back and collapsed to the ground dead. There was utter confusion in the formation and the bagpipes stopped playing. Maxis loaded a blank round into his rifle and put the rod grenade in the barrel.
“Shit man, where that shot come from?” shouted one R.O.B. soldier.
“Are we under attack? Bloody hell, are we?” said another.
One of the lieutenants took over and ordered, “Lads, defensive position. Don’t run but keep your guard up. Do not charge unless I give the...” He was quickly interrupted by the explosion that instantly took out six of his men, to which a sergeant immediately yelled, “Move it boys! Jerry is greeting us. Let’s give him a taste of British steel. GO!”
“Wait...cough...you damned fools this...grunts...a, trap!” gasped Cpt. Atkinson, trying to warn the troops all the while struggling to free himself from the dead horse. But it was too late. One of the Scottish Highlanders set off the first trap killing him instantly in the explosion. Everyone froze.
“Hold position! Krauts laid out traps, cheeky bastards!” said the Lieutenant.
“What do we do, Sir? We’re sitting ducks and...” The Scottish Highlander was cut off, after being hit by a sniper’s bullet.
“Damn it all, sound the attack! Advance, we dare! CHARGE!” screamed an officer as he pulled out his saber.
The bagpipes began playing loudly as the order to attack was heard and every soldier fixed their bayonets and moved forward, forgetting the fact the whole area had been set up with traps. They shouted their Regiment’s motto and other war cries before getting snuffed out by shells detonating, then Maxis fired the remaining rod grenades. No one looked back to see their friends blown up or cut down, but they pressed on ever so into the ambush.
“AAAHHH, MY BLOODY LEG!” one soldier screamed bloody murder as his leg was caught in bear trap before getting shot.
Maxis witnessed this and asked, “Kruger, did you set up bear traps?”
Kruger responds with a wink and smile. Another soldier set off a snare that yanked him off the ground before the sound of a click from a grenade was heard before it detonated. The first wave was slowed down by the traps hidden everywhere.
“They are almost through the first line. They are starting to learn my pattern, Sarge,” said Kruger as he fired his rifle.
“Trupp, Feuer eröffnen (Squad, open fire),” Maxis said calmly as he cocked the machine gun.
The squad unleashed a hail of bullets at the oncoming British soldiers. inflicting more harm on them as they ran for cover. Some dropped to the ground and low crawled. The R.O.B. returned fire though could not hit anything as they were badly being suppressed. Some of them performed the “Mad Minute,” firing as fast as they could, hoping their bullets would hit. The other R.O.B. soldiers armed with their experimental rifles laid down repeating fire and those armed with M1909 LMG tried to find a suitable spot to set up.
The second battle at Base Camp Elizabeth was bloody and chaotic with bullet tracers flying around, screams of men dying, and the tents catching on fire, just pure madness.
“Remember Maxis, control burst, control burst,” Lothar shouted to Maxis while firing.
“Sarge, they’re closing on the second line, just say the word and we’ll show ‘em what a mad dog looks like,” said Graf ,firing the slug out of his shotgun.
The British moved past the first line of traps before igniting one of the phosphorus shells which created a plume of smoke and fire. Maxis grabbed the gas grenades and threw them as hard as he could. The greenish gas poured out and some were caught in it and choked. Immediately everyone pulls out their makeshift respirators to counter effects of the gas.
Graf also helped by throwing the incendiary grenades to block off any attempts to flank. By most of the Regiment of Britannia’s soldiers had simultaneously set off the phosphorus shells and smoke shells covered the whole area, resulting in many soldiers’ boots catching on fire.
“Graf! Start hunting!” Maxis yelled, as he fired the machine gun.
“I’m on it!” Graf immediately jumped out of the foxhole and sprinted into the smoke, putting on his gas mask as he ran.
Graf surprised the R.O.B. soldiers that were inside the cloud of smoke with a shotgun blast to their torsos. Another Brit appeared from the left, thrusting his bayonet forward at Graf but was quickly countered by a hard hit on his head from the butt of the shotgun.
Graf went on a complete killing spree with his crude yet effective weapons. He used up the last of his shells before switching to his pistols and when ran out of ammo for his sidearms, switched to his trench mace and impact grenades. He bashed with his mace and the soldiers were obliterated on impact with the disk grenades.
“Maxis, I’m running low on ammo here. I got three mags.” said Lothar before pulling his pistol, quickly outshooting an enemy soldier to their right.
“Same here. I’ve got two clips left for my rifle. We are about to get overrun,” Kruger added, concerned. to the concern.
“I already ran out of ammo for the MG, but I hear you. We’ve done enough damage. Squad, fall back. Let’s get out of here! I’ll provide cover.,” Maxis ordered as he started firing his Luger M1906.
“Graf! Stop playing with Tommy over there! We’re falling back!” Kruger shouted.
Graf was holding a British soldier by his collar ready hit him with the trench mace. He let him go and said “You got lucky this time,” then ran away. Maxis provided cover for Graf as he sprinted back when bullet grazed his left arm ripping the symbol off his sleeve.
“Graf!”
“I’m fine. Just a flesh wound.”
“Then get moving!” Maxis responded.
The squad retreated into the forest, moving and shooting until they were out of sight, leaving the camp entirely. The British tried to give chase but were stopped by gas shells they had tripped. The British grenadiers started firing their rod grenades at the retreating Germans although they missed their targets. They gathered near the outskirts of the woods and watched.
“We did it men. We drove them back. We should pursue them into the forest and...”
“Oh, shut it, Sergeant. It was merely a Pyrrhic victory. The camp is back in our hands but at what cost? No one is doing anything! Get this camp checked out for more traps before anything else happens, NOW! The Commander will not be pleased with this,” directed Cpt. Atkinson, now limping with a broken leg as he looked at the almost destroyed camp.
Maxis and the squad kept running until they reached the end of Kitchener woods. They stopped to catch their breath, but no one said a word. Maxis then proceeded to help treat Graf’s wound before moving again. They continued with Kruger taking point.
Night slowly fell and one of them pulled a flashlight out to light the way, but only one source of light to minimize them from getting spotted. It was nine and there was still no sign of any German troops. Finally they spotted a string of lights moving along. Everyone held their positions and crouched down.
“Graf, check it out. See if they are friendlies,” Maxis whispered.
Graf nodded and moved out. Everyone else kept their weapons at the ready even though they had limited ammo. Twenty minutes later, Graf returned.
“What’s the info?” Maxis asked.
“Sarge, I’m happy to say we have found our advancing force which means the pathway should be clear. They also offered us a ride.”
“Best news I’ve heard yet. Let’s go.”
They approached the main force and after a quick greeting, they boarded the wagon to return to Ragnarök base. After thirty minutes of total silence, they arrived at the base when the wagon came to a halt. At one of the tents Sitting outside was Fischer and Kraus playing cards. When they noticed the wagon stopping, they quickly got up and ran toward it.
“Well, well, what do we have here? I see the Mighty Lothar on the right, Jäger Kruger to the left; Graf, did you get wounded? That’s surprising, and at last the war-hero squad-leader in the flesh,” observed Fischer.
“It’s great to see guys made it back. The whole place was placing bets,” said Kraus.
“You were betting on our odds of survival, really?” said Graf, still holding his arm to cover the bandage.
“Don’t worry about that. The best part is I won, Ha ha. More papiermarks (paper money) for me,” boasted Fischer, cheerful and happy.
“Well, if this makes it better, I did liberate this fine brandy from the Commander of the Regiment of the Britannia,” Maxis pulled the bottle from his rucksack.
“Oh, this is going to be a good night,” said Fischer with excitement.
“Unless you plan to share that bottle to the person in charge of this base won’t you, Sgt. Maxis?” interrupted Major Reinhard, as he walked in on their conversation.
Everyone stood to attention and quickly saluted the Major and he saluted back.
“Fine work men, very fine. Though I’m uncertain whether to call this a success, since we’ve yet to get to Ypres itself. Nonetheless you are back here in one piece. Sgt. Maxis, prepare your squad for debriefing tonight before you all go and celebrate. One of the prisoners you brought in was very talkative as if he was scared of something; I want to know why. The vehicles you brought in are already on their way back to Valhalla base for R&D to analyze. I’ll send Commander Jorgensen your reports after the debrief. Now get to it.”
“Yes Sir. Let’s go, squad,” instructed Maxis.
Fischer went to fetch the rest of the squad while Maxis and the others followed Major Reinhard. After the debrief, the squad gathered at the mess hall tent and celebrated, all except Brandt. Everyone who participated took three shots of the fine brandy. Major Reinhard took a glass with him as he walked out of the tent. He stared into the night sky with the stars twinkling, but in his thoughts, something bugged him.
“This will be most destructive war man has ever seen. The most troubling part is the discovery of another military organization sponsored by their government. That makes three now. I wonder if there is a fourth. I hope not. Although the Grün squad did perform well together with Maxis at the helm and Lothar by his side. Perhaps I should recommend to Augustus in the foreseeable future that we think about forming a Task Force,” the major pondered and downed his brandy.
Meanwhile back at Base Camp Elizabeth...
Commander Wellington stood in front of the now devastated base camp, steaming mad and in shock. Trying to contemplate how such a thing could have happened to this place. 1Lt. Wilson walked up beside him.
“We did a head count, Sir, for the defenders and for the company we sent.”
“How many for the defenders, Wilson?” Commander Wellington asked.
“For starters, it seems that the Germans have some respect for our dead. The men said they were found neatly placed in rows in a respectful manner with their arms crossed and fennings on their eyes. It surprised us when we found them like this. We counted a 135 killed in action, and 15 M.I.A (missing in action). We presumed they may have been captured.”
“And what of our company that came through here?”
“Based on what Cpt. Atkinson reported before being sent off with the medics, they were 300 strong and after retaking the camp they had 195 left. Jerry dug in hard to inflict such a toll.”
“My God...that’s one third of the company killed in action. Did the Germans take any losses? What about them?” the Commander demanded to know.
“I’m sorry Sir, but none of their corpses were spotted among the dead. It seems whatever they did to avoid such casualties they did so strategically.”
“Bastards...the lot of them. How can they possibly...” Before the commander finished his sentence, he heard a scream coming from the right. They turned to see one of their own on the ground with medics around him. They rushed over to see.
“What happen here?” demanded Commander Wellington.
“Sir, we found a survivor, we are trying to get this thing off him,” explained the medic as he and the others tried to grip the bear trap.
“Sir...SIR! I need tell you what happened. Come close, I don’t have a lot of time left.” said the wounded R.O.B. soldier.
“Don’t say that. We’re going get you out and you’ll be home before you know it,” comforted the medic as he administered morphine.
Wellington went down on one knee to listen to what the soldier had to say.
“We walked in with the pride of Britain on our minds and families in our hearts, but our training didn’t prepare us for this. After they shot the horse and it fell on the captain, the poor bugle boy, Mac, was supposed to signal us but he bit the bullet. Chaos erupted. Next thing you know, we charged in there expecting a good fight but instead we were met with a slaughterhouse, and we were the lambs. All I can remember was the explosions and the dying screams of our boys charging into the fray,” said the soldier as his eyes started to glaze.
“Alright on three. One...Two...THREE! PULL!” The medics opened the jaws of the trap and others pulled the soldier out of it. They quickly started wrapping his leg with bandages.
“There were four of them, Sir. Four of them. Did I make my country proud, Sir?...if not tell Mary...I-I...”
“We’re losing him! Stay with me, John, stay with me!”
“It’s too late. I’m sorry, Sir. We did what we could,” said the medic in a depressed tone.
Wellington stood up and removed off his hat for a moment then walked away from the scene with the 1Lt. Wilson following.
“Finish your report,” said Wellington.
“All but two of the Killen-Strait Tractors were not destroyed, but they are still missing, including the Lincoln Machine No.1 Prototype as well.”
“Not the prototype! This is too much to bear! I need a stiff drink.”
“Yes Sir, I think I know the solution to that. Private, go to the commander’s tent and retrieve something from the top torso of the statue,” 1Lt.Wisons ordered.
“Yes, Sir. I’m on it,” said the Private, running toward the commander’s tent.
“Oi, Commander I think I found something. You might want to look,” said 2Lt. McManus.
“What is it, McManus?” Wellington grabbed the two items from him and studies them. The first one was the K.W.S. emblem and in the other hand, he held a somewhat crumpled name tag that said “Maxis”.
“The K.W.S. It was them. I should have listened to Molitor’s warning about them. I was a fool for not realizing what was going on sooner. But the other name has me curious. Maxis...the last I heard that name was at...Mons. Dear God...”
“The Black Wolf of Mons!” Wellington said out loud, followed by a huge explosion from his tent. The Private violently thrown out of it.
“Man down! We need a Medic here!” shouted one of the soldiers, as he rushed over to the private.
“You come to my camp, slaughter my people, steal my prototype, my vehicles, and my brandy. You’ll rue this day, Maxis and you too, Jorgensen, my archrival and now nemesis. But never doubt, I will be coming after your prized pet...eventually. Bet on that Augustus!
