Posts Tagged ‘ettie’

TNCP c24

Posted: February 24, 2011 in 1917
Tags: , , , , ,

Anandale kicks around the aerodrome. He is bored. Putting out a cigarette he goes over to the hanger and speaks with the Flight Sergeant. Anandale has his eye on a Bristol Fighter.

[Flight School]

“I’m looking for a plane to take up.” Anandale takes a fancy to the one the air mechanic is working on. “What’s this one doing?”

“You can’t have this one. Pilot Officer Wilson snapped the joystick. Came off in his hand. He must have been pulling on it too hard.

The mechanic smirks.

“That’s a shame.” Anandale continues without remarking on the inuendo.

“It requires a woman’s touch does a joystick.” The Flight Sergeant adds.

Anandale sees the joke and goes over to the plane – there is nothing wrong with the ‘control handle’ as they are supposed to call it. It sits good and proper in the cockpit.

“I’ll be nice and gentle.” Anandale says, humouring the mechanic.

“Like that girl you’ve been seeing in Aberdeen.” The mechanic says.

“No silly buggers.” He continues as Anandale runs across the airfield to the barracks to pull on his flying gear. “It doesn’t need pressure this one.” The mechanic adds as Anandale gets out of earshot.

Quarter of an hour later the Flight Mechanic pulls sharply down on the prop, it spins, the engine coughs and it settles down. The Mechanic pulls away the chocks from the wheels and off she goes.

Anandale is passionate about flying. You can see it on his face. As the plane gets away from the aerodrome he heads towards the small fishing harbour of Crail and the sea. Controlling a plane in 1918 requires all manner of actions – joystick, fuel gauges, height, pressure. Anandale pumps on a lever seeing that that fuel guage is low. He pumps it harder to no avail and curses. As he gets out over the sea the engine gives up … it splutters, the problem clear for Anandale to see as petrol sports from a pipe going into the engine.

He quickly loses height. Turning into wind to get back to land he risks stalling so he puts the mnose down to get some speed. This is a tricky game … can he keep up the speed to get him back. Approaching land he knows he is going to crash so he aims for a potato field. This proves equally hopeless as the field isn’t long enough and a stone wall is coming up fast. Giving it a little lift at the last moment the plane hops the stone wall, tumbles into the field beyond. A wheel snaps off, the wing goes over on its side taking off a skid then the plane comes to a rest. He’s okay.

[Richard Murray has been foiled again]

Come Armistice Anandale and Gustav stay on during demob.

TNCP c13

Posted: February 13, 2011 in 1917
Tags: , , , ,

Jack, Henrietta and Gustav return as their division. Ettie gets back into her nurses roles unnoticed. Jack receives the M.C. ‘In the field’ while Gustav returns to his RFC unit … and with considerable reluctance to flight training at Crail … where Jack appears 7/8 months later, and where Ettie also makes her move.

Gustav is alive. Shots ring out from the German trenches. There is machine gun fire from the British lines. Gustav tries to pull Anandale free. He won’t budge, his legs are trapped. Anandale hands Gustav the camera and plates. The plane plane. Anandale is resigned to his death. He shows Gustav that he has his revolver ready.

“The last one’s for me.” Anandale says.

Anandale nods his head at the flames. He isn’t going to let himself burn to death. Gusav makes his move. Taking the satchel of photographic plates with him Gustav pulls himself towards the British Lines.

Gustav struggles on, keeping low to the ground.

Ettie watches Gustav through her telescope and pin points the sniper. She points this out to Jack who takes a look, then adjusts the gun. Ettie watches as a spray of bullets pick out Loffner and fill his head, shoulder and body with bullets turning him into a broken pulp of flesh and blood.

“That’s it.” Says Ettie.

Jack takes the telescope so that he can look. There’s not much left. He shakes his head.

“Sixteen months I’ve been out here and I’ve never seen that … “ Says Jack. “Seen what a machine gun can do. I’m reminded of the Sixth Commandment, when Moses came down from Mount Sinai. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

“It’s time I gave it a rest.” He continues. “You know I’ve got my papers in for a transfer to the Royal Flying Corps?”

“Royal Air Force now. Since April.”

Gustav tumbles over the lip of a shell hole for cover.

Jack looks round as the bottom edge of the tarpaulin lifts. Seeing a German helmet he instantly falls on the soldier and pulls him in to the bottom of the pillbox. He gets a knee in the man’s back. George is resting on a makeshift bed – Jack gives him a kick to get up.

“Get out there and see if there are any others.” Jack calls. “We might be surrounded.

“Kamarad. Kamarad.” Calls the German soldier.

Jack pushes the German soldier up against the wall and takes a good look at him. George returns. No others. Together they get their German Prisoner to raise his hands and empty his pockets. Two packets of unopened cigarettes. Adi tries to give them to Jack. Jack won’t have them.

“No. Not me. Don’t smoke.”

Jack makes signs with his hands to indicate that he doesn’t smoke. Adi appears to understand this and agrees … he doesn’t smoke either. George takes one packet. Ettie takes another. Jack gives the remaining one back.

“The man’s like me.” Says Jack. “He doesn’t smoke. Uses them to barter.”

Reaching deep into one of the German’s trench coat pockets Jack pulls out a Mausser pistol.

“We’ll have this though.”

Adi is happy to let go of it.

“La guerre fini. It’s finished for you. Kaput.”

The German Runner looks in a breast pocket and takes out a picture. It is of a

“Mutti. Mien Mutti.”

“I get you. Your mother. She’ll be missing you. You’ll have to let her know you’re alright.”

Adi has no English. He makes gestures, as if to bury the picture in the soil.

Jack, George and Ettie appear to understand.

“Dead. Buried?”

The German Runner looks at them blankly. He pulls out other bits and pieces from various pockets: a piece of black bread that neither Jack nor George will eat.
Ettie tries the black bread. There are stubs of pencil, a few coins, cuttings from papers … and a painting no bigger than a postcard. Jack takes the picture. The German wants Jack to have it. The German Runner tries to explain what it is. That it’s of a famous building in Vienna. Jack doesn’t understand a word.

Gustav gets behind a low wall where he is horrified to find rows of dead Guardsmen.

George hands Adi some tea. He offers the German a sprinkle of sugar. He doesn’t take the sugar. Jack goes back to the machine gun. He props up the picture so that he can look at it. Its a painting of a fancy church. The perspective’s a bit off. The artist has used a ruler on the brickwork. Very amateur. But done with an obsessive desire to pick up every detail. It makes Jack think for a moment about what he is doing. About what they are all doing there. Then it’s back to work. Jack has it all mapped out in his mind. He knows where he should now place a short burst. George steps in to feed the belt. The white terrier looks at Adi. Adi pulls and preens at his moustache with such nervous rapidity that it looks like a nervous tick. He kicks dirt at the dog. Ettie digs under her jacket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of linen – a piece of meat. She clears a space to prepare it – bangs it flat to make it tender, cuts it into strips and pops it into a billy can with a little water.

There’s another machine gun burst. Gustav looks up when the machine gun fires from British Lines and heads in that direction. A shot cracks against the wall pinning him down. He’ll have to wait.

As the tarpaulin is lifted once again Ettie, the German Runner, Jack and George turn their heads. This time the head is dressed in a pilots sheepskin cap and he wears goggles. It’s the pilot from the downed R.E. Observer.

“Bloody Hell.” Jack calls out. “It’s turning into the Central Station on match day.”

“You got the chips I ordered?” Asks George.

Gustav clocks the pot and aroma of something cooking.

“Thanks for the cover.” Gustav says.

“You’re from the R.E. Observer?’ George says.

“Who’ll be next?” Jack asks. “The bleeding Kaiser and King George V dressed up as the ugly step sisters from Cinderella?”

“They send their apologies.” Says Gustav. Looking over at the German he asks. “Who’s your guest?”

“Him?” Says Jack. “He’s our war artist.”

“A student of the Academy of Art in Vienna taken up residence,” he says.” Ettie explains.

A shell hurtles in their direction, then another, and another as a barrage begins. Everyone presses themselves into the wall of the pillbox. Ettie finds herself pushed up against the German Runner. Ettie remarks on the German’s impressive moustache – more ferret than facial hair growth.

“You could put that down a hole and it would come out with a rat. If I could grow a moustache I’d have one of those little chappies under my nose the size of a hairy postage stamp, just enough to absorb the drips if I had a cold. Like Charlie Chaplin.” Ettie says.

Then she tries some German.

“When did you learn German?” Jack asks.

“I didn’t. I just told him ‘in England it rains a lot and the King collects stamps.’ I learnt it when I was with Miss Ethne, from Ollie … you remember, Miss Ohlendork her German Governess.

Adi moves away from Ettie.

“You know the British think this spot has been retaken by the Germans… that’s how it looks from up there.”

“How about we declare our neutrality?” Geroge suggests. “Like Switzerland. We stick up a flag claiming independence from the Empire, Germany, France and Belgium.

“They’d still kick the shit out of us.” Jack says.

A shell lands a the entrance blasting away the tarpaulin. Something hits George who lets out a terrible grown. As the dust settles Jack goes over. There is a deep gash in George’s belly. Jack is joined by Ettie.

“Let me.” Says Ettie.

Ettie does what she can. There is a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded in his groin.

“You’ve caught a Blighty one.” Said Jack.

Ettie speaks with Jack.

“That piece of shrapnel has to come out.” Ettie says.

“Can you do it?”

“I’ve see it done. It’ll take a couple of minutes. There’s no anaesthetic. If I don’t get it out it’ll go septic and he’ll die … Two, three days tops.”

Jack puts the machine gun back on its legs. He then pokes the end back out between the sandbags. He looks over the gun, very quick, routine, pulling back the crank, checking for faults, cleaning out debris. He then gives it the shortest of bursts.

“Shame I have to advertise we’re still here but if they don’t know the gun’s still in action they’ll come over and take a look.”

Gustav Hamel looks about him at the others. Jack makes the introductions.

“George Wannop from Cumberland. This one calls himself Adi. The dog doesn’t know who he is. I reckon it’s Willy, Sergeant Barwick’s dog. This Adi fellow calls it ‘Foxl’. Dog doesn’t know the difference. I think it’s gone death from all the bombing. And my sister. Henrietta Bloody Wilson. A darned fool if ever I’ve I knew one. She’s been following me about since we were this high. Gustav looks into Ettie’s eyes. They know each other. Though this might not be the place to let on.

“Flight Lieutenant George Hepple, R.A.F.” Gustav says by way of an introduction.

Gustav & Ettie study each other. They speak out of earshot of the others.

“I thought you’d be a Captain by now.” Ettie says.

“I didn’t know you’d joined the machine gun corps.”

“This isn’t my day job.” Ettie says. “I came in to get Jack.”

(Takes her nurses uniform in a back pack – to avoid ebing shot as a spy? Changes back into Nurse Heni to comfort dying soldiers in the ditch)

“I need one of you over here.” Jack says. “The belt’ll jam otherwise.”

Ettie goes over. She lifts the belt of .303 Amo and feeds it into the machine gun as Jack lets off a few bursts.

“There’s no relief coming.” Ettie says. “That’s what I came out to say. They’re pulling out. No one could get to you.”

“You did.”

“You know me.’ Ettie says. “They gave up. Left you for dead … or to be picked up by Jerry.”

Gusstav goes over to speak with Adi.

“So who are you?” Gustav asks in whispered German.

“I’m an Artist.” Adi replies. “I was at the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts before the war.”

“Why do I think you’re making this up?”

Adi points at the postcard sized painting he gave to Jack. George takes a look at it – not impressed. He hands it back to Jack who wouldn’t know the difference.

“And now you’re in the Army.” Gustav says. “A Corporal I see.” Gustav gets Adi to stand, to raise his arms, so that Gustav can check his pockets. Adi flinches as Gustav goes into the back of the coat and gets a bayonnet point pressed against his throat to keep him still. Adi shakes, he wets himself. Urine soaks through his trousers. Gustav watches it seap, steaming over the bench and into the mud and sludge on the brkoen concrete floor.

“You speak good German for a Tommy.” The German runner continues, as if nothing is amiss. “With a Munich accent.” He adds, saying a truth that Gustav finds hard to hige. “Is that where you come from.” Adi continues.

“Don’t worry about him.” Jack says. “We’ll send him down the line when we get relieved.”

“This one’s relieved himself already.” They laugh.

As Gustav helps himself to the contents of Adi’s pockets he continues to ask questions. He finds two items that Jack had failed to find – the note that Adi had been trying to deliver and a loaded Mausser pistol.

Adi convincingly feigns indifference to both items. His war is over he believes, a period in a British prisoner of war camp. So what. So much the better. His war was over and he’d come out unblemished, his face, his mind and his limbs in tact.

Adi says nothing. He’d heard of Sheile. A pervert. Not his kind of artist at all.

“Did you come across Egon Sheile?” Gustav asks. “He was at the Academy. Isn’t Klimt a tutor? Gustav Klimt?”

In a split second Adi’s expression changes to one of hatred.

“You speak very good German. If you’re not German, then my name’s not Adolf Hitler.”

Gustav ignores the man. ‘Everyone lies in this war,’ Gustav thinks to himself. He has found that sons of farm labourers are now sons of farmers, a brewer’s clerk now manages a pub owned by his family and no-one – no-one will admit to being in domestic service … and here we have a nurse posing as a Tommy machine gunner. The ultimate conceit. Or is that his? The son of German surgeon, and the daughter of a Cabinet Minister. ‘What does it matter?’ he thinks toi himself, wishing that all would be good in the world if only he could have a drinl. ‘God has decided to kill all the men of working age in Europe,’ he thinks to himself – to give the place up to Asia and the Americas. Gustav shuffles over to Jack, the one they’e all turning to in here, the man with his finger on the trigger who can keep the gun in action and the Germans behind their line.

“He says he was an art student,” Gustav says to Jack alone, “at the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. A drifter. He’s a shifty blighter.”

Jack shakes his head; he’s more willing to take the man for granted.

“He’s no different to any of us – just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Gustav has his doubts. He hands the loaded Mausser to Jack. Jack appreciates that with their backs turned the Jerry could have turned this on them at any time.

“One for my grandchilren, I think.”

Gustav admires Jack’s optimism. Like the others around him he feels his end is neigh – that is, except for this German Corporal whose arrogance would deflect a blast of shrapnel at 10 foot.

Gustav pulls back the man’s greycoat and looks at the insignia on Adi’s uniform and informs the occupants of the pill box who they have with them.

“He’s a corporal.” Gustav catches Adi’s eye; it is a look of distrust of each other. “He’s in the List Regiment. Bavarian Infantry. He’s a dispatch runner.”

“Well, we’ll not get that back to the C.O. in a hurry. You’re our first visitors in four days. We’re supposed to be three days in here.”

Gustav talks to Jack alone.

“The List Regiment have been moved up from Verdun. They’re planning a big push right here just as our lot are pulling out.”

“You’re the last man standing.” Gustav continues. “They’ll get at this spot then push right through the line and on to Paris.”

“If I desert my post, that’s me finished. If I fail to keep the gun in action, it’s field punishment No.1 at the least.”

Catching the drift of this George makes a contribution.

“We take the gun with us.”

Jack gives the group a cursery glance. He’s not up for it.

“I’ve never left a position. Never.”

“They’ll bomb the hell out of this place.”

“We go we’re dead.’

“We’re all dead.” Says Gustav. “We’ve been dead since the day we were born.” He clicks his fingers. “We’ve jsut never known the second of our demise.”

A whizz bang flies in, sounds like it is on a course to destroy the pill-box they are in then explodes short.

Gustav reads the message that Adi has failed to deliver. He reads it. He could translate from German concurrently but thinks twice of doing so, not least because of the look Ettie is giving him. He play acts a boy with elementary German, consciously puts on his natural English accent from his mother’s native Hampshire with unnecessary enthusiam.

‘That bugger on the machine gun must be constipated because he hasn’t had a shit in four days.’

“What’s that?” Asks Jack, figuring out that the reference is to him.

Gustav looks back and forth between Jack and Adi.

“You’ve got a sniper on your arse.” Gustav says. “You’ve got a latrine pit?”

Jack leaps on Adi and tries to pull his head from his shoulders. No one does anything to stop what can only end in the German being throttled. Ettie steps in.

“Jack, he’s bloody u.s. to his lot and ours. Let him go. He was just doing his job.”

“Have you seen behind the wall? Look in the ditch there. I’ve rolled six men in there … all killed by his … his accomplice to murder.”

“Murder in war?You’re daft.”

“They put their heads up.” Adi continues. “Tell him that. They want to die. Who would stand up like that if they didn’t want a bullet through the head?”

Ettie can’t listen anymore, she scrambles out under the tarpauline. She scrambles low through the muck and water to the smashed stone wall a few yards from the pill-box, leaning round the side she sees in close up the most blatant horror of the war – many dead men, some not quite so. Broken bodies, torn bodies. A sight more horrific than anything she’d see in the field hospital – these are the men, the bits of men, that will never make it back on the a stretcher. Dead or alive they will be left here to rot or to be minced into the soil. There are three, perhaps four Grenadier Guards, all in thier late teens or early twenties, just alive … another ten very dead – some are green, some are grey. One a leg ripped away from his torso has his fingers in the wall and is just a nod away from making his face a target. Ettie watches as this boy’s last effot on earth is to pull his head over the wall – a bullet takes him in the face and blows the back of his head off and he slumps back to earth. The others around him are to weak to move away from the human debris, they barely even flinch.

A Sergeant who is missing his right arm and leg looks up at Ettie.

“You’ve come for Jack?” Ettie nods. “The lad deserves it. A credit to his mother that one. He’s been out every day to see that we have a little water or a bite to eat. To take away the dead. You could roll that one into the shell hole.”

The Sergeant nos towards the lip of a shellhole. Nervous about these things having been trapped in one herself Ettie snatches a nervous glance. It is gross – an arbatoir of human skin, limbs and offal.

Driven by sympathy Ettie changes back into her nurses uniform to do something she does best – comfort the dying.

“You want to stay? You go to this amount of trouble to get Jack back the ndecide to stay?” Asked George.

“For now.” Ettie said.

“For now. You’re crackers. You don’t know if you’re coming or going.”

“It’s a Wilson trait.’ She said.

“That’s Henrietta for you.” Said Gustav, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to have met her before today.

Jack and George turn to look at Gustav. He’s given something away – that Ettie and he know each other. Adi looks equally troubled by it.

“What the hell.” Ettie says. Chances are they’ll all be killed at any moment. She removes her balaclava and helmet, removes her mittens and takesw fomr water from the cannister to clean away the grime on her face. Jack, of course, knew who she was a few moments after she entered. Gustav figured it out too. This left George and Adi in the dark.

“May I present Miss Henrietta Sarah Wilson.” Gustav announces, first in English, then for the benefit of their German prisoner, in his language.

Jack, used to his kid sister’s antics growing up with her in County Durham finds this all bafling. He’s starting to put two and two together though – the key is this George character from the R.F.C.

“George Hepple?” Jack asks. “Trained at the flying school in Crail.”

George nods his head, though with one eye on the German. This is sensitive information after all.

“You’re the wonder kid. The one who took to flying like a duck to water – loop the loop on your second day. My brother told me about that.”

Jack soaks a rag in water and uses it to clear away the grime and dried blood from Gustav’s face.

Now he gets it.

“That’s how you two met,” He says, point first to Gustav, then to Ettie. “At that display of flying skills at Carlisle Racecourse.

“We never met.” Gustav adds, meaning him and Jack.

“Didn’t need to. I was there with my brother Billy. You took this clown up for a spin and she lost her hat as you flew over the crowd. You’re the one that got us interested in flying.”

Jack tried to put his finger on it – George reminds Jack that they have company in the form of their German prisoner. Nothing should be discussed openly in front of him.

“You’re German – this one’s right.” Gustav shakes his head – this isn’t something to discuss here.

George asks Jack to stop. He seraches for the words – an explanation. It comes from Ettie.

“Jack, he’s English. His father is German, but he’s lived in England all his life and his mother is English. The family are even registered now – regiesterd aliens. His father was surgeon to the King and Queen. How more English coudl you get.”

“Even if their surname’s Saxburg-Cobourg- Gotha.”

“Hemel. Gustav Hemel. You flew a Bleriot monoplane.”

“They changed their name to Hepple.”

“So why dod all the papers say that Gustav Hemel was lost over the North Sea (English Channel) in May 1914? They thought he was spying for the Germans. Am I right?

Ettie shakes her head.

“He always wanted to fight with us, for the British. He always wanted to use his flying skills but they wouldn’t have allowed it.

“Hed’ have been intered.”

“What have you got in there?”

“Photographic plates. They show the build up of German troops right here – just as we are prepared to pull out.

Adi, listening intensely to the exchange though not beng about to understand works out that those photographic plates must not get into British hands. He sees a hammer, is able to reach for it and takes a lung a Gustav’s direction. There is a scuffle.

“He’s more trouble than it’s worth. He’ll get the lot of us killed. See how he lunged at George.”

“He’s not George.”

“He was after the plates. To destroy them.”

“Because I am a good German and I am fighting for the Fatherland while you play games.

You are a boy, a child, playing games. Not knowing what you stand for. For … for fun and games. Is this what it is for you? THis girl .. this boy/birl, and flying –“

“None of us here thnks this is a game. Having your eyes blown out, our your guts spilled is not a game. Seeing a friend burned alive in a crashed plane not six hours ago. That is not a game.”

Your legacy, what will that be? If you survive. What a lark.”

JFV 1/11/07

“There’s no point staying here.” She says. “We should all go back. We can’t hold back the German army single hanaded.”

“Not before dark.” George says. “Anything moves out there gets shot.”

“Perhaps we could send Corporal Hitler here,” says Gustav, “back to Loffner asking him not to shoot at us?”

“Take ‘Henrietta’ here … and the German.” Says Jack. “I’ll stay until I have my orders. They found Sergeant Stones, one of ours, behind the lines after some push had been on and he was shot for desertion. They’re not getting me on that.”

Ettie shows Jack her I.D. Bracelet

“Billy died in the clearing station. Williams took me for Billy. Said I was right to try to bring you back.”

“You?

“You’re finished here. The 50th move north of Ypres tomorrow. You’re taking over the line from the French.”

“No point going out in daylight. They’ll see you from the ridge. Jerry doesn’t let a thing move around out there during daylight.”

Meanwhile they’ll blast us to pieces.

“Are you German?”

Gustav shakes his head. He’s had enough of Corporal Hitler. He doesn’t like him. A shell comes down close by, shaking the pillbox, loosening the earth and giving everyone the shakes. When the dust settles Ettie takes a look at Gustav. He’s in a bad way. Ettie calls Jack, GUustav and Adi over. She uncovers the wound as the men hold Gustav down. She then takes a couple of minutes to dig out the piece of shrapnel stuck in his groin.

“What possessed you to come out here?” Gustav asks Ettie. “Into the front line. “No one wants you here.”

“I told you. I wanted to find my brother Jack.”

“Or you wanted to be part of the fight?”

We’re all part of the fight. The Boche saw to that by bombing civilians. I saw Anna. She’s taken your mother’s name.

Ettie steps away from Gustav, takes off her trench coat and jacket and lifts her vest. George sees the bandages wrapped around her chest.

“Are you injured?”

“Hardly.”

Ettie begins to try to unwind the bandage around her breasts. She struggles. She gets George to help. He holds back.

“Come on.” Ettie says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t see a woman before.”

“I’d be worried for both of us if we take him back with us.”

“I don’t like the look of him either.”

He looks like the type who would say anything to get off the hook. He’ll say there’s a woman passing herself off as a soldier … and a German passing himself as a British Royal Air Force pilot.

Ettie takes the bandage over to Gustav and binds his wound.

We’ll get a stretcher out to him.

“We’ll have to take him.” Ettie says. “They’re finished here. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. We’ll have to find a way to et him back ourselves. Gustav looks for water from a petrol can – there’s nothing.”

“You’ll have to get water from a shell hole.”

Gustav and Ettie leave the pillbox to look for water. While doing this a shell comes over. Gustav pushes Ettie into the earth. There is no explosion. Looking round they see a green gas emit from the broken shell casing. They dash for the cover of the pill-box. Ettie pulls on her gas mask.

“Gas! Gas!”

They make a dash for the pillbox.

“Gas!” Ettie cries

Jack pulls on his gas masks, Ettie and Gustav pulls on gas masks. Ettie then helps Gustav on with his mask.

Adi doesn’t have a gas mask.

“They used to tell us to make water onto a handkerchief and place it over your mouth.”

“It’s the urine. It reduces the effect of chlorine gas.”

Adi starts to choke. Jack stands up, takes his hanky and manages to piss on it. He offers it to Adi. He won’t take it. They try and force it over his mouth.
Adi is having nothing of it.

“I’d prefer to die.”

Gustav removes his mask and takes a deep breath – in doing so he is committing suicide. He hands the mask to Ettie who passes it to Adi who pulls it on. Jack is unable to watch Gustav choke to death or to fulfil their promise to each other – he gets back to the gun and lets off a few rounds. Adi leans over and grabs his Mausser. He gets up and puts a bullet through George’s head. All turn to Adi.

“I wouldn’t let a dog suffer like that.”

Adi makes them all keep back, pointing the gun at each of them in turn. Then pointing it at JACK. He forces JACK off the gun, makes him raise his hands and takes him towards the exit.

“Foxl!”

The dog scurries away. Adi lets off a shot and misses. Seeing the leather satchel full of glass photographic plates he picks them up too.

Adi makes Jack lead the way. They leave.

A mortar from the British side lands near them and takes Jack’s arm off. Adi leaves him.

Somehow Jack is rescued … or sits out the war in a German POW camp?

TNCP c10

Posted: February 10, 2011 in 1917, Ettie, Ypres
Tags: , , ,

Despite the danger the observer puts an exposed plate in a satchel. A stray bullet enters his back – it is John Anandale. He slumps into his seat, dropping the camera between his legs. He is seriously injured, but not dead.

Meanwhile the Sergeant and the first Soldier, whose name is Stuart Wilson approach the shell hole where the lad is caught on hands and knees.

Ettie continues to cling on. Her hands are spread out above her head. He feet are spread out below. She is spread-eagled against the steep, loose, muddy side of a deep shell hole. She daren’t move.

“Beebie? Beebie?” Ettie calls.

Ettie might be clinging to a cliff face. You can see her predicament. Any movement and the wet soil slips from beneath her feet taking her closer to the murk below. An eager white terrier appears at the lip of the shell hole and is excited to see Ettie. There’s a shot at the dog that narrowly misses. Feeling threatened Ettie replaces her steel helmet and curls up into a foetal position without slipping further into the hole. The mist now hides the water in the bottom of the shell hole.

Gustav takes the plane down, flying away from the mist as it forms. There is activity around a German gun emplacement further behind the German lines. A set of six heavy artillery guns are being put into place. Anandale is uncertain of the risk Gusav is taking but has no choice. A spray of bullets come in their
direction.

Murray makes his way forward and looks up at the Observation plane.

“Help me! Someone!” Cries Ettie in sobs of tears.

Dick Murray keeping his head down, looks across the lip of a shell hole. He figures out where the call is coming from and spots the dog.

The company Sergeatnt scrambles over to the lip of the shell hole. The dog is eager, pleased to see him. The Sergeant is desperate not to be spotted.

“I’m here!” Ettie calls.

“Is that the young lad?” Asks the Sergeant, on his belly, mud and guts in his face and in danger of slipping like a seal of ice into the shell hole.

Ettie looks up.

Stuart holds the Sergeant’s legs as he slips down into the shell hole. Ettie grabs the Sergeant’s arm and gets her knees into the dung heap. The sergeant struggles to stop himself being pulled in. Ettie pulls herself up over the Sergeant’s back.

Staurt looks up to get a better view.

The sniper sees the top of a the soldier’s helmet begin to emerge over the edge of the mud. Not able to get a shot in yet, he waits his moment. Mist obscures his view. He’ll have to be patient.

Stuart sits up. There is a crack of a bullet as it enters his face, taking away part of his lower jaw, his nose and left eye and knocking him onto his back. A second bullet hits his soldier, then a third. It’s as if he is being used for target practice. Ettie and the Sergeant cling to the earth – she is terrified and upset. Then mortars start coming over … each one closer to where she is, tossing the duck boards into the air. She leaves the Sergeant and scrambles forward the best she can. Eager to stay alive she keeps as low as a worm. She is separated from the Sergeant as a shell blows a hole in the duckboard creating a fresh shell-hole, leaving him on one side and her on the other.

“Courage Post?” Ettie asks. “Is it this way?”

“37 degrees East. Two hundred yards.” The Sergeant advises. “Can’t be more.”

TNCP c9

Posted: February 9, 2011 in 1917
Tags: , , , , ,

A couple of Tommies, no rank, stand on sentry duty at the entrance to a dugout. The sound of this boy calling for help upsets them.

“Father!”

“I can’t stand that racket.”

“Who is it?”

The soldier shrugs his shoulders as if he doesn’t care. They are joined by the company Sergeant who has a point of view.

“Father!”

“That’s the young lad went in for Jack.” The Sergeant says. He looks around at the unlikely lads. “Which one of you has balls of steel?”

Neither volunteers.

“Which one fancies a few days extra leave in Arras?”

“Blighty for me. I’ve had no leave home in nearly two year.” Says the first.

“Any leave would do for me. I’ll do it.” Says the second.

“Wait on. I didn’t say I’d not go.”

“You were just about to call him a gonner.”

They argue. It is after all a life and death issue, though they treat it as if they are arguing over a bet of a few pennies. Weeks of boredom are relieved like this. They both volunteer. The Sergeant takes out a tuu’penny bit and they toss for for it. The first soldier wins and you’d think he was already off to an estaminet in Arras the the Red Cross tent for stationery and a letter home, a dip in a tub of hot water and a change of clothes that might turn out less ill fitting that these. He heads onto the duckboards with the Sergeant.

Moving closer along the ground towards the shellhole we pick out a dead soldier, it is Gartenfeld. The British plane continues to drone overhead. Ettie looks up. She spots it – a Bristol Fighter. She wishes she was up there rather than in this stinking hole of filth.

A Bristish pilot takes his time. There’s no trouble from German planes. They’re high enough up not to be bothered by rifle or machine gun shots. We pick out the pilot, Gustav – or as his squadron know him George Hepple.

We can make out the opposing trench lines, a massive crater, shell-holes and the devastation in No Mans Land. Away from the lines we see tracks, light railway lines and a canal picking its way across the landscape from north to south. The observer in the back of the plane, Anandale, leans over the side of the plane with a bulky camera and takes a picture over the German reserve lines. Far below mist forms and thickens along the length of a canal.

Gustav, as we’ll continue to call him, though his identity is unknown to all around him, swings the British plane towards the rising sun, then faces north. The coast and the English Channel as we know it can be made out in the far distance. The observer, Anandale pulls a plate from the back of the camera between his feet and puts it into a leather satchel, puts in a new plate, then raises the camera over the side of the plane to take another shot as they pass over a canal where mist forms, spreading out on both banks.

A moment later the plane is caught by an incendiary bullet and she hesitatess about changing her mind – would she be better off drowned or burned to death? The plane slews to its port side trying to keep the flames away from the fuselage as it attempts a swift and controlled desent. The flames catch and over the last hundred feet the descent is swift.

“Poor Bugger.” Mutters Ettie and a hundred men on both sides of the front line around them.

Someone struggles to wrap puttees around their calves. Eventually they get it right and get up. Only now we recognise Ettie’s pale, female face. She’s in Army boots, puttees and khaki trousers. She’s naked from the waste up. Ettie looks at her breasts in a mirror. She’s gamine … androgenous.

“I’ll see you two when I get back.” Ettie says, addressing her breasts.

Ettie binds her breasts against her rib cage with a length of bandage. She undoes her hair. It drops below her shoulders. She cuts it off with a cutthroat razor. Etties’s intentions are clear – to pass herself off as a young soldier. Ettie cuts her hair regulation short. Ettie then tries on a soft, peaked Machine Gun Corps cap … and then a Tommy’s steel helmet. This gives her another worry. While looking in the mirror she prepares to speak.

Attempting a masculine voice Ettie tralks through some of the lines of the favourite songs. ‘When … the Boys Come Marching Home.’ ‘Pick up your Troubles in your Old Kit Bag.”Keep the Home Fires Burning.’

(WHO WOULD BE HER HELPERS IN THIS?)

Ethne Murray and Marion Lubbock – on the way out changed to a Tommy soldier she is ticked off by the Matron for being in the nurse’s quarters? Someone, Richard, must know what she is up to?

Ettie takes the steel helmet off. She picks up a bowl of red/brown muck. No one is coming. She checks. She puts her fingers in the stuff then covers her chin, the side of her face and above her lip, then down to the neckline. This is all it takes to make her look like a weatherbeaten and exhausted young soldier.
“I’d feel it if he were dead.” She was banging her clenched fist to her heart. “ I felt it when my eldest brother Ridley died, I felt it when my brother Stuart died and I felt it when my brother Billy died a few hours ago. I probably felt it when my mother died too, only two days after I was born.’

Satisfied, she leaves.

Ettie sets off, her steps measured at first as she consciously tries to walk like a man and lose the swing of her hips. Soon she thinks she passes as a soldier with ease – as an officer no less. It is dark. It is busy. It is chaotic with soldiers, with horses, with limbers, and artillery going in. A couple of Red Cap pass. Ettie salutes. She smiles at herself at the way she successfully passes herself off.

The boots give her blisters causing her to hobble. She is spotted by a young Captain

“You there. Stop!” Calls Captain Murray.

Ettie comes to a halt. She looks around for the voice.

“Here!”

Ettie sees a Captain at a table outside an estimanet. She goes over. She salutes. Of all the people she should bump into it would have to be Richard Murray.

“What the hell are you walking like a bloody pansy for?”

Ettie thinks fast.

“Boots, Sir. Blisters, Sir.”

“No excuse.”

Ettie musst look him in the eye but would prefer not to. She thinks fast for an excuse.

“I’ve a good mind to put you on a chaarge. What’s that accent you’ve got. Are you a Consett lad?”

Ettie won’t give this away. No point in jogging his memory too far. She does her best to give her accent a little bit of a Welsh turn.

Says Murray “And see to your trousers. You must be feeling the draft.”

Ettie finds the front of her trousers are open. She does them up. Ettie is compliant … not defiant.

“Dismissed.” Says Captain Murray.

Ettie salutes and leaves.

TNCP c3

Posted: February 3, 2011 in 1917, Ypres
Tags: , , , ,

From the sky we pick out the straightness of the canal and the competing, facing Front Lines. From the point of view of an Observation Plane, as it comes lower, we pick out – just, a partially smashed concrete pill box. It looks like a pluke on an old man’s unshaven face. On one side there is a smashed forest, reduced to tree stumps, on the other there is a lake of mud, everywhere there are pimples from shellholes.

Jack, in his early twenties, is a Corporal in the Machine Gun Corps. His face is weatherbeaten. He hasn’t shaved for a week. He is hungry and exhausted. His eyes are sunken eyes and he wears a shadowy palor.

From inside the a smashed and formless former Jerry pillbox, Jack lifts a piece of waxed tarpaulin to survey the scene outside – a wet moonscape of craters in mud, the distance slopes of a low ridge. Smashed trunks of trees. This is intermittent gun fire, a burst of machine gun fire … a mortar exploding in the distance. Jack turns to a second man, George, also in his early twenties, who is busy shaving pieces of wood off a stick of wood with a bayonet to keep a tiny, smokeless flame alight under a Billy can inside their ‘shelter.’

“They’ll not be out to get us today, George.” Says Jack.

Jack leaves the shelter carrying an empty two gallon petrol can and tin can. He keeps his head down; he moves slowly, aware that at any second he might be spotted by a sniper and shot. He goes over to a shallow shellhole, leans in with the tin can and brushes scum away from the surface. He takes some water puts a hanky over the top of the petrol can and filters water using the hanky.

As Jack fills the can there’s an almighty ‘whizz’ sound. Jack turns face down into the mud. He keeps still – maybe it’ll get him, maybe it won’t. There’s a ‘bang’ and clods of earth, pieces of human body and barbed wire are tossed into the air – some of it lands on Jack’s back. Looking up Jack finds the shellhole blown out.

“Bugger.” He mutters.

“Jack? You there? Jack?” A man calls. A man too injured to move.

Jack, keeping his head down, goes over to the remains of a brick wall. He pokes his head around. The voice is that of a Sergeant, legs damaged, unable to move. There are two dozen men here, some dead the others all seriously injured. The man next to the Sergeant is dead.

“Bailey’s had it. Could you … ?” Says the Seargeant.

Keeping low Jack gets his hands into the dead soldier’s shoulder straps and drags him over the lip of a shell hole then bundles him down its side. Not much else he can do.

Jack goes back to the shellhole and picks up a petrol can and a mess tin. He pours out a bit of water for each injured man and ensures that they all get some. Bullets strafe overhead. Looking round at the injured soldiers he finds several of them pointing at the same point on the opposide side of the trench.

“I’ve got you.” Jack says.

A German sniper using a home-made periscope-based device that uses two triggers, a length of wire and mirrors aims his rifle over the top of the trench. He spots movement in the British Trench in front – the top of Jack’s head comes fleetingly into then out of shot, then he spots the head of the Sergeant. Choosing his moment the Sniper takes a shot and his man goes down.

Jack takes cover. ‘Poor bugger’ he thinks. Nothing much he can do for now. He returns to the pill box but takes good care to fix his eye on the likely spot of the sniper.

Jack puts the water down. Geroge helps himself to a drink. Jack gets behind the Vicker’s Machine Gun and looks for the spot where the injured soldiers had been pointing. George joins Jackto feed the canvas belt of ammo into the gun. Then Jack lets off a few rounds. Not too much. He doesn’t want to give his exact position away.

Mud and dirt catches the end of the sniper’s rifle and he curses the inconvenience. If he doesn’t move he’ll be trench mortared.

TNCP c1

Posted: February 1, 2011 in 1917
Tags: , , , , , ,

A young woman in early twenties, goes about her duties in a busy World War One Casualty Clearing Station. She assists with seriously injured British soldiers coming in from the front line.

Many of the young men are hopelessly near to death – disorientated, upset, resigned … falling apart at he seems. They have horrendous face wounds, have lost limbs or splutter froth and blood when they try to breathe. Ettie gets on with her job, her only worry the occasional drone of an aircraft overhead.

Ettie appears emotionally detached, even hardened to it. Then she, to her horror, she recognises a young soldier as he is brought in. She goes straight over. She knows this boy soldier, this young man. They are family.

“Billy. It’s Ettie …”

Billy’s eyes showing the glazed expression of near death gives a tiny response, a spark that reanimated him. Billy is young, too young. Ettie holds him , as if by using her hands she can hold his broken limbs and organs together. She is distraught.

“You silly B …. “ She says.

“Bugger.” Billy manages. “Go one. You can say it now. Dad won’t tell you off.”

“Bugger!” Says Ettie. “Bugger!”

That got her attention. Now Billy can tell her what he needs to say.

“Someone has to go in for Jack.” he says. “He won’t come back. You know what he’s like.”

Ettie looks at the tag on a label attached to Billy’s foot. Not good. She holds her breathe, recovers her composure – then does as she does for everyone who
comes in near to death – she puts on a brave face.

“You’ll be off back to England in no time.” Ettie says, trying to comfort him. “Chances are you’ll end up convalescing in one of those big houses on Snow’s Green.”

Billy ignores Ettie because he still can. He is resolved about one thing only. There is something Ettie must do.

“Nothing’ll budge him.” Billy says. “Nothing but a Jack Johnson.”

Ettie, sticks stiocally to her approach. Why listen to his stressed mummblings. His last thought must not be one of this sick war.

“Remember the lawns?” Ettie said. “How we helped cut them with father?”

“Jack’s reported ‘Missing in action.’” Billy says.

“Remember how we’d go fishing for tiddlers in the Derwent?”

“He’s no such thing. They know where he is. They can’t reach him … or can’t be darned.”

“Shh …”

“Keeping the gun in action all this time.” Says Billy. “That’s Jack for you.”

“Shh …”

“Silly bugger. Not one to break the rules. Not like you.”

The eerie sound of bombs exploding nearby gets Ettie’s attention. A couple of nurses get nervy and run off –

Ettie ignores the danger. She reflects on what is going on – the hell of it. Ettie untucks the blanket in which Billy is wrapped and his guts nearly spill out onto the ground. There’s a jagged piece of metal sticking from his chest. It’s hideous that he’s still alive. She knows he will shortly die. Billy sees something in Etties’s face – fortitude.

“Morphine?”

A bomb drops close by. Ettie stays with Billy. She’d gladly die with him. They looks into each other’s eyes – brother and sister, a thousand million memories growing up together. It is heart breaking. Billy has his moment, he has her attention.

“Someone has to get Jack back.” Billy says, trying to get Ettie to acknowledge this.

The field hospital is hit by a handful of bombs. Everything goes up. Billy is flung from the palliasse. Ettie is knocked against a wall. As the dust settles Ettie picks herself up – carnage, nurses, doctors, patients dead or dying. Blown to bits. Ettie is stunned and outraged. Ettie looks around for Billy. He’s on the floor. She scrambles over to him. Billy’s in a terrible way. Ettie holds him together; were she to let go he’d spill out over the floor. Honesty takes over.

“Forget the Blighty One.” She says. “You know you’re a gonner.”

This brings a weak smile to Billy’s face.

“That’s more like it.” He says. “My little sister. Always called a spade a spade.”

“Someone has to.” Ettie replies.

“And had to have the last word.” Billy adds.

Ettie is about to speak. This time she stops herself. Tears fill her eyes. She starts to sob. Billy manages to smile weakly. Despite the circumstances they laugh – not a good idea for Billy as the cramping off muscles to laugh nearly finishes him off.

“Jack’s in ‘Courage Post.’” Billy continues.

Ettie doesn’t know where he means. The names the lads give the pill-boxes and trenches are lost on her – all she gets is what comes back.

“That Jerry pill-box on the other side of the Canal.” Billy explains. “It’s a mile in. Mud up to your nuts all the way.”

Billy struggles to take something from a pocket. Ettie helps him. It’s a compass. Billy makes her take it.

“That must have cost a fortune.” Ettie remarks, distracted by the item she is holding in her hands.

“Shut up.” Says Billy.

“How could you afford that much?”

“Sssh …”

“Liquid Luminous.” She continues.

“Ethne Murray.”

Ettie is surprised to hear Billy mention this name.

“She bought it for me.” Billy says.

Ettie doesn’t get it.

“She was in Grantham before we came out.”

Ettie still doesn’t understand. What was Ethne Murray doing in Grantham? Ettie had been there, it was the camp where machine gunners were trained – there were tens of thousandsof them.

Billy explains. “She was nursing like you – surprised you never cauight up with eachother. Loved spending her money that one.”

This makes sense to Ettie.

“Not just on me. She bought a dozen of them. Handed them out at the gate as we left for France.”

Billy clasps Ettie’s fingers around the compass. He is about to die.

“Get Jack back.” Billy insists. “The Division’s moving north of ‘Wipers’ tomorrow to relieve the French. They’re going to leave Jack where he is.”

“He’s kept the gun in ation; that’s his way. He’s going to survive this war. I know he is, but you have to go in and get him.”

Ettie starts to understand the request being made of her.

Dick Piper’s written a letter home to Father to say Jack’s dead. It’s no such thing. Jerry’s going to shell Courage Post to hell if our lot don’t do it first. It’s the only dry spot for miles.

Billy pulls Ettie close.

“You’ve got a day to get him out.” Billy says.

“Jack always was in the wrong place …” Ettie mutters.

“.. at the wrong bloody time …” Billy adds.

“…but he gets away with it.” They say together.

Billy manages a weak smile. Then the pain becomes too much. A stab of pain finishes him off and his existance leaks away into the floor.

Not this time. Not unless someone goes in for him.

Billy goes into the last spasms of death.

“You Bugs.”

Are Billy’s last words.

“I’ll … “

Billy dies.

“I’ll get Jack back.”