Read Online Black Hand Gang by Pat Kelleher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pat Kelleher
Tags: Horror
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stripes.
"You okay, mate?" asked Pot Shot.
"What the hell was that, a mine going up?"
"Dunno, but they might have bloody warned us."
"What the hell's going on?" asked Gutsy joining them. "Why's the firing stopped? D'you think it's a truce?"
"It's bloody eerie, is what it is," said Atkins.
"Hey, maybe it's an armistice, maybe the war is finally over," said Jessop. "I can go home to Maud and little Bertie."
A gentle wind began to worry the edges of the gas cloud. The fog thinned and visibility gradually improved. They saw dazed soldiers picking themselves up off the ground. If that had been a mine and it was British, then they should be pressing home their advantage and taking the Hun trenches while the enemy were still dazed.
"Where's the rest of us?" Atkins asked, looking around.
"Over by that shell hole. Half Pint's trying to calm Ginger down. Lucky, Mercy and Gazette are still out there somewhere. Ketch? Who cares? Sergeant's probably taking the Jerry trenches by himself," said Porgy.
The battle fog was mostly gone, slinking shamefully along the surface of the mud, herded by playful draughts.
"Hoods off!" came a distant shout.
Thankfully, men began removing their steel helmets and pulling off their gas hoods.
"Uh, chaps?" said Pot Shot, staring off into the distance.
"Come on, give a man a hand here," said Atkins putting out an arm. Porgy and Jessop took it and pulled him to his feet.
"Chaps?" said Pot Shot again, more urgently.
Atkins wiped his muddy hands on his thighs. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Porgy was looking past him. "What?" he said in irritation as he rolled up his gas helmet and took a lungful of air. The acrid tang of cordite hit the back of his throat and the slight hint of chlorine hung in the air. He coughed and spat.
Porgy jerked his chin.
He turned and followed their gaze "Blood and sand!" The shell-ravaged vista of No Man's Land was as familiar as it ever was. Atkins turned round. He could see their trenches and the barbed wire. For around a quarter of a mile in every direction there was the pummelled and churned ground of the Somme. But beyond...
It was as if some pocket of Hades had been deposited in the vale of Elysium. Beyond the muddy battlefield of No Man's Land, lush green vegetation sprang up, a green so deep and bright after untold weeks of drab khaki and grey, chalky mud that it almost hurt the eyes to look upon it. Great curling fronds, taller than a man, waved in the breeze. Where there should have been only blasted hell-torn rolling farmland, now, on either side of them, deep green thickly wooded hills rose up as if cradling them, their peaks marked by glittering becks and scumbles of scree. Atkins was reminded of the hills and mountains of his Pennine home and felt a pang of homesickness. The air around them was no longer chill and damp, but warm and moist. In the distance, along the valley floor, was a forest of sorts and, above them all, arced an achingly blue summer sky.
But of Harcourt Wood and its splintered, shredded trees, there was no sign.
Men, stunned by the same sight, were taking off their gas hoods and shucking off their backpacks and webbing to stand dumbstruck. Some fell to their knees weeping openly with relief. In the distance, the sounds of a hymn, Nearer My God to Thee, rose up from the trenches. Soldiers slowly, cautiously clambered over the parapets, laying down their weapons to stand in the sunlight.
"Lay down your arms, brothers, for we are at peace in the fields of the Lord!"
Groups knelt in prayer amidst the mud, their hands clasped together, heads bowed. Others just sat, exhausted from the constant tension of the front lines or wandered dazed amid the trammelled corpse-ridden fields. Warmed by the sun, steam began to drift gently up, rising like the ghosts of the slain from the desolate earth.
"It's paradise!" said Ginger, his steel helmet held loosely in his hand, a beatific smile adorning his face. He wasn't shaking or jerking, he wasn't
"You okay, mate?" asked Pot Shot.
"What the hell was that, a mine going up?"
"Dunno, but they might have bloody warned us."
"What the hell's going on?" asked Gutsy joining them. "Why's the firing stopped? D'you think it's a truce?"
"It's bloody eerie, is what it is," said Atkins.
"Hey, maybe it's an armistice, maybe the war is finally over," said Jessop. "I can go home to Maud and little Bertie."
A gentle wind began to worry the edges of the gas cloud. The fog thinned and visibility gradually improved. They saw dazed soldiers picking themselves up off the ground. If that had been a mine and it was British, then they should be pressing home their advantage and taking the Hun trenches while the enemy were still dazed.
"Where's the rest of us?" Atkins asked, looking around.
"Over by that shell hole. Half Pint's trying to calm Ginger down. Lucky, Mercy and Gazette are still out there somewhere. Ketch? Who cares? Sergeant's probably taking the Jerry trenches by himself," said Porgy.
The battle fog was mostly gone, slinking shamefully along the surface of the mud, herded by playful draughts.
"Hoods off!" came a distant shout.
Thankfully, men began removing their steel helmets and pulling off their gas hoods.
"Uh, chaps?" said Pot Shot, staring off into the distance.
"Come on, give a man a hand here," said Atkins putting out an arm. Porgy and Jessop took it and pulled him to his feet.
"Chaps?" said Pot Shot again, more urgently.
Atkins wiped his muddy hands on his thighs. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Porgy was looking past him. "What?" he said in irritation as he rolled up his gas helmet and took a lungful of air. The acrid tang of cordite hit the back of his throat and the slight hint of chlorine hung in the air. He coughed and spat.
Porgy jerked his chin.
He turned and followed their gaze "Blood and sand!" The shell-ravaged vista of No Man's Land was as familiar as it ever was. Atkins turned round. He could see their trenches and the barbed wire. For around a quarter of a mile in every direction there was the pummelled and churned ground of the Somme. But beyond...
It was as if some pocket of Hades had been deposited in the vale of Elysium. Beyond the muddy battlefield of No Man's Land, lush green vegetation sprang up, a green so deep and bright after untold weeks of drab khaki and grey, chalky mud that it almost hurt the eyes to look upon it. Great curling fronds, taller than a man, waved in the breeze. Where there should have been only blasted hell-torn rolling farmland, now, on either side of them, deep green thickly wooded hills rose up as if cradling them, their peaks marked by glittering becks and scumbles of scree. Atkins was reminded of the hills and mountains of his Pennine home and felt a pang of homesickness. The air around them was no longer chill and damp, but warm and moist. In the distance, along the valley floor, was a forest of sorts and, above them all, arced an achingly blue summer sky.
But of Harcourt Wood and its splintered, shredded trees, there was no sign.
Men, stunned by the same sight, were taking off their gas hoods and shucking off their backpacks and webbing to stand dumbstruck. Some fell to their knees weeping openly with relief. In the distance, the sounds of a hymn, Nearer My God to Thee, rose up from the trenches. Soldiers slowly, cautiously clambered over the parapets, laying down their weapons to stand in the sunlight.
"Lay down your arms, brothers, for we are at peace in the fields of the Lord!"
Groups knelt in prayer amidst the mud, their hands clasped together, heads bowed. Others just sat, exhausted from the constant tension of the front lines or wandered dazed amid the trammelled corpse-ridden fields. Warmed by the sun, steam began to drift gently up, rising like the ghosts of the slain from the desolate earth.
"It's paradise!" said Ginger, his steel helmet held loosely in his hand, a beatific smile adorning his face. He wasn't shaking or jerking, he wasn't
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