DECIM 1789 AE Pt. 3

I followed the friendly's through the maze of trenches, our most present goal was to clear the machine guns that were firing on our boys who had not yet crossed dead man's land. The easiest way to clear a trench was with bombs, or hand grenades. We had specialty people with us, who just carried bombs and a revolver.

Every time we would encounter some trouble around a corner, we tossed a couple of bombs and cleared it after, the bombs would eliminate most resistance, and if the soldiers were alive they would surrender or get shot or stabbed afterwards. I was the second man in the makeshift squad to clear out the trench.

We could hear machine guns firing some twenty meters away. The battlefield was a huge ball of confusion. We had no idea where the friendlies had holdouts, or even success in pushing the enemy back, we were supposed to put markers on the areas we took, and we did, but many would forget in the confusion of battle.

To understand the battle of clearing a trench line, one must understand how a trench line is created. It is not just one straight line down the entire front, but a series of turns every ten or so meters. Every corner could hold an enemy, we had no way of knowing. We had to take every corner as if an enemy was waiting for us.

I was right behind the man in front, a bigger man with broad shoulders that took most of my view. I never caught his name. We were catching our breath on a corner, about to peak, the bombers were behind us, we were bayonet men, the men who were supposed to find the enemies and take the brunt of the attack.

The big man turned the corner and was almost immediately shot in the arm. He fell back and stumbled into the wall of the trench while dropping his rifle on the ground with a thud. I tried to drag him over to cover behind the corner. As I dragged him the O.R soldier put two more bullets into the man. One in his leg, and another in his chest. The large man was hard to move, and by the time I got him behind safety he was dead, lifeless.

I signaled the bombers and they tossed three bombs over the corner. After they exploded I turned the corner quickly with my rifle raised. There were two men lying on the other end of the trench. I pushed up to the first man.

He was leaning against the wall of the trench hunched over. Blood wetting his coat from the inside. His boots were almost fickle, and crumbled as the guys stepped on them. The second guy lied down a bit further from him. He was still alive, barely.

He was hiccuping blood and grabbing at his throat as blood poured from them. His face filled with terror. His eyes began to wet as one of the bombers put a bullet in his head with their revolver. His head thudded with the bullet and his hands fell down to his side. His throat was thrashed open and I could see chords in his neck through the blood. We pushed on.

The next corner was the machine gunner. We could hear it. The bursts that came ringing out. I signaled the bombers and they all tossed bombs. When they exploded I rounded the corner with my rifle raised. The smoke got in my eye and I moved forward.

The machine gun nest was dug out slightly further than the rest of the trench, separated and isolated. I ran forward with my bayonet raised and jumped into the parapet. There were four men lying down disoriented. One of them clutching the bulky machine gun in his hands. I immediately shot the man in the back, he slumped over his machine gun and I quickly racked my rifle.

At that time the other machine gunners all raised their hands and started yelling. At this point two friends came up behind me. In the panic of the remaining three men, I looked up from their fortified position. I saw countless bodies laying limp in dead man's land. Some leaned over the barbed wire, many others just lied out as if a kid playing with toy soldiers tossed them out and forgot to clean up.

The snow is red with blood. I then turned back to the pleading men. One holding out a photograph of a family, probably his. He was pleading. I didn't understand what he was saying, but I got the gist. The two others looked at each other more than at me. I simply raised up my rifle and shot the man holding a picture of a happy man, with a happy wife, and happy kids, that man was not the same as the man before me.

He fell back into the side of the parapet still clutching on to the photograph. The two others followed my lead and shot the other two. How many men out there had families, why should he be treated any different then the men he killed.

Looking back, I am not proud of many things that I did during the war. There are many spur of the moment actions that come up without thinking too hard. I'm not sure what I should have done then, even now. It was common practice, during the war, to not take machine gunners as prisoners.

When looking out on the field of the dead, I felt no sympathy for the men pleading for their lives right in front of me. But it was an empty action of vengeance. As I said earlier, I had no connection to any of the dead men, only that they were fellow countrymen. What was I avenging?

He, like me, was a soldier, he did what he was told. If I was on that machine gun I would have done the exact same thing. In the end, all I can do is think about my actions during the war. If I could tell my younger self what to do, I am not sure what I would tell him. He was an angry man.

A man who thought he knew the world, and how people ought to be. Don't know if anything could change his mind, don't know if I would even want to change his mind. I have more time to think about these things now. Lately, that is all I am doing, thinking.

I can see that photograph very clearly, even now. I wonder if his son grew up thinking about revenge, or how it impacted the wife. I do not know. What would I say to the man, if I saw him again, after I die. What could I say to him? What would I say to God he stays there judging my actions. Do I have any defense? The only thing being that it was war, and war brings out only the worst in people.