He looked around at the men next to him. The soldier he had knocked in the mud started in on his rifle again but Vincent tuned him out. The soldier stood right in front of him but Vincent looked through the man and saw only the battle before him. He wondered briefly how many of the other men were aware as he was of what was occurring.
Then, the world turned white and he was knocked backwards.
He was dazed and the world around him was strangely muffled. He looked around and saw the sky above him – the rain clouds were moving back in. He raised his head and saw his boots. His rifle was still in his hands.
He looked to his right and saw that the man who only moments before had been angry was now lying in the mud. The man was fully covered in sludge, where before it had only been his legs and hands. In fact, whatever had caused the world to go white had pushed the man deep into the mud. Vincent looked closer at the man and realized he was also covered in blood. A large piece of shrapnel protruded from the man’s chest. The man’s eyes were open and he stared blankly at the darkening sky.
Vincent turned his attention back to that same sky. It was filled with clouds but soon became filled the face of the Sergeant. Vincent could see the Sergeant’s mouth moving but could not make out the words. Then, Vincent felt strong hands pull him upwards. He was standing on his feet.
The Sergeant yelled several times until the words finally came into focus and Vincent could make out the word, “Run!”
His head was still pounding but he let the command from his Sergeant sink in and instinct took over. He began to run. The Sergeant ran next to him, pulling Vincent by his shirt.
Vincent could not feel his legs but knew they were moving as he was upright and the world around him was filled with horizontal motion. He looked down at the rifle clutched in his hands. He was thankful for that as he was sure he would need it later.
He ran several yards before half-falling into an open hole in the ground. They had reached the next trench. He was still dazed as he sat down in the muddy gouge; but then the adrenaline that had been coursing through him reached his brain and he was fully aware of where he was and what was happening.
“Are you better?” his Sergeant asked him concerned.
Vincent nodded. “What happened?”
“Mortar fire. It took out one of the Howitzers in the last trench. The shrapnel took out many of our men. Some are merely injured but several are dead.”
Vincent recalled the soldier next to him with the large piece of metal sticking out his chest. He didn’t speak.
“Are you injured?” the Sergeant asked.
“I don’t think that I am.”
The Sergeant smiled. “You’re as tough as an old doorknob, you are.”
Vincent laughed. He assumed the expression was a compliment. “So now what?”
“Now we hold the line. There will be more men that will join us on the front line. Our job is to make sure they get here. It won’t be easy. We only moved one of the large guns up before they began to bombard us. At some point, we’ll need to barrage them with cannon fire as we move the others up.”
“By barrage, you mean attack their lines with one Howitzer.”
“We have some mortars but yes, that is the idea.” The Sergeant looked at Vincent and smiled. “I never said it would be easy. But that is our order.”
“Then we’ll do what we can to follow that order. Bite and hold.”
The Sergeant smiled viciously. “Aye, bite and hold.”
The Sergeant cuffed him on the shoulder and for the first time, Vincent noticed the pain. He looked at his right shoulder and saw blood on his uniform shirt. He examined closer and saw a tear in the sleeve. Then, he saw the small piece of shrapnel stuck in his shoulder. It wasn’t deep and as he pulled it out his first thought was, I’m glad my tetanus shot is up to date.
He stopped. The blood and pain were real. He considered for the first time with full realization that all he was experience might not be a dream after all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Passchendaele, Belgium – November 1917
The moments that make up life are often brief. Some moments draw on for years and seem insignificant in retrospect. Other moments are over before one realizes they are over. It was in one of those short moments that the future of the entire world was altered. The movement of a single finger saved the lives of countless people but at the same time created death for countless others who otherwise would not have been affected.
Vincent was given the order to fire and even though he had never been in combat before, he obeyed that order without hesitation. He had only shot a firearm a few times in his life but internally the training that had been given to his great-grandfather, the form he now assumed, took over and he knew what must be done. He began firing in short bursts spread out in predetermined areas across the battlefield.
As he was firing,
