Bayonets and Barbed Wire

Chapter 4

German Front Line Trenches, Champagne District, France

January 8, 1915

3:00 P.M.

The winter sun shone softly on the fresh, white snow which rested on the trenches and blanketed no man's land. Otto had spent the morning wading through the knee-deep canal of white which filled every uncovered space up and down the line. In the distance he could hear the sound of shells meeting their targets, and the subsequent thunder of munitions stores exploding. They had been shelling the French for hours on end in preparation for the offensive which was set to begin in five minutes.

He stood in a line of soldiers who had been brought up from the support trench for the attack. They were armed with rifles, grenades, and bayonets. Sufficient equipment for clearing a line of trenches. When the charge began, the artillery would shift its fire from the area of the attack to the reserve line and the flanks of the desired segment of trench. This would cut off reinforcements. In the event of a victory, the first wave would remain in the front line whilst a wave of fresh troops took up the assault and continued on to the support and reserve lines. Should this wave be pushed back, the first would have had ample time to set up trench blocks and machine guns.

At 3:05, an officer blew their whistle and Otto hoisted himself over the parapet, Gewehr '98 in hand, and ran forward into a shell hole. He crawled up to the lip of the crater and tentatively peeked over the edge. Scanning the enemy line through the sights of his rifle, Otto identified the distinctive shape of a Lewis gun, adjusted his aim for distance, and pulled the trigger. For a moment the machine gun went wild, firing aimlessly across a large swathe of land as its gunner fell to the ground. When the shooting stopped, Otto stood and followed the rest of the assault force towards the French trenches. Dodging rifle fire, he ducked behind the husk of a tadpole tank with the same soldier who had offered him a drink only a few nights ago. Since that time, he had come to know the man as Paul.

Paul looked over to his old dugout-mate and nodded, then stood and began to run out from behind the tank. Before he had even gone around the corner, a bullet struck his side, sending flesh, cloth, and shards of bone flying. Otto crawled over to him, grabbed his harness, and pulled him behind the rusting metal heap. The wound was worse than he had thought, and was not merciful enough to have killed him upon impact. Paul had not yet fully comprehended the fact that he was wounded, and was still trying to move a little.

Otto focused his worried eyes on his friend's wide, blue eyes, "Paul, I need you to be still, you've been shot."

As the man's strong body began to relax, Otto opened his medical satchel and pulled out a bottle of morphine. Moving quickly, he injected the morphine, threw away the syrette, and began wrapping Paul's wounds with dressing. The wrapping went around most of his lower abdomen, for the bullet had ricocheted off a rib and exited through his side.

He sat Paul up against the tank and picked his rifle back up, "The stretcher-bearers will take you back to the Rear after the attack, and if they don't come for you, I will." Paul just stared in response, still shocked over his condition.

Dashing out from behind cover, Otto joined up with the wave of soldiers who had just reached the French trench. Once in the pit, he found Ralf and Joachim and began clearing the dugouts with grenades. Anyone who tried to flee from the explosives either met the cold steel of bayonets or was captured and taken back to a temporary holding area. When they had finished clearing the foxholes, they set up trench blockers and helped Anton get his machine gun set up. Unfortunately, the group was then assigned to help reverse the parapet and the parados of the trench so that it could be used to defend their gains. By the time they had finished, the second wave of troops had successfully taken the support trench. An uneasy ceasefire begun along their section of the front as the third wave retreated to the new front line. Being that they were due for a ride back to the rear at dawn, Otto's party of soldiers slipped back across no man's land in the dark.