Ypres 1917 "And we would yell, 'Hello, Tommy' and they would yell," "Hello, Fritz." The old man froze. He was suddenly unable move, to turn his head. A sensation seventy years old suddenly bloomed into life. "Angel?" he whispered. "Hi, Barney." The reply was soft but the voice was the same. "Do I turn around?" The audience of teenagers stood quietly enthralled in this latest bit of theater. "I won't stop you." There was a long pause before the old man spoke again. "It has been a long time, my friend. What will I see?" "What do you want to see?" It was a gentle remark that suddenly brought a crispness to early winter air. "What color is your hair?" "Auburn." "Your eyes?" "Green. Why?" "My hair, what little is left, is now grey and my eyes are tired." These tired eyes were suddenly etched in pain again as they searched the trenches. They did not see the commemorations but the dead. "Your eyes were brown; warm and compassionate." "They saw too much." Silence filled the air as the high schoolers moved on to explore another section of the trenches. "You did that." There was no acknowledgment by the other veteran. "What will I see if I turn around now?" "I told you long ago never to fear me. I would never hurt you, but protect you." The old man turned. He stood looking at figure swathed in the deepest green. The face was hidden by veil attached to a large hat. "Still in disguise, Angel, after all these years?" "It is easier that way." Angel stood calmly as the old man lifted the veil to reveal the unchanged face. His smile was genuine as tears filled his eyes. "Now is not the time for crying, Barney. We have peace." "I still remember you covered in mud, cussing and swearing at the weather. I remember you telling me to keep my head down." The wind began to blow hard. The sun hid behind yet another cloud and without warning the rain began to pelt down. There was so much mud. It was everywhere: in the clothes, in the weapons, in the ears, in the food. Some said it was in the crap as well. And the smell. It would never go away. The scent of death and decay, of vomit and putrid. The acidic clouds of spent magazines and shells seemed to cover No Man's Land in semi-permanent fog. Angel bent down and looked at the face. It was Fritz. "I told you to keep your head down, you stupid Kraut." The half frozen, mud encrusted hand reached out and closed his eyes. At least he was free. Free from mud and the mundane. Free from the pain and fear. Free from the lice that permeated the coat and the bedding eventually finding its way through the cloth to feast upon the slowly rotting flesh that the men called their bodies. Free from the the sudden flash of heat the drove men to tear off their leggings taking not only the lice away but the skin and the muscle, leaving the stunned soldier with a skeletal appendage needing amputation in a filthy field hospital. Free from the vomit and faeces that became a raging torrent with every rainfall. Free from the rats who were the size of small dogs and the small dogs who lived to kill the rats, yet regularly tripped the unwary recruits into the disease ridden water. He was free from the comradeship and the vile, rude jokes. Free from the shared smokes, prostitutes and dreams. He was free from from those who clung to earthly life and had gone to join his friends who had gone before him. "Er ist....dead?" Angel looked up into the eyes of a young medic. "Yes. You don't belong here." The statement was flat. How many times had this been said? "None of us belong here." The brown eyes looked carefully at the dirty face that was examining him. Was that face old enough yet to shave? Was this yet another boy brought forth to be slaughtered in this insane farce? "How old are you?" He couldn't help himself. "Old enough to have been here for two years. He," motioning to dead man, "was a great singer. I shall really miss his concerts." The trenches were close enough that when there was a lull in the madness the troops would entertain each other by swapping songs. "He sang Schubert like an angel." "I know. Fritz had trained to be concert singer. He had hoped to go to Beyreuth when the war ended." The two soldiers stood quietly over the fallen man for a few more moments before they laid him on a brier. "Keep your head down, Barnhardt. I won't shoot you, but I can't guarantee what others will do. Your boy needs his father alive. I'll see you soon, Fritz." Angel stood up, picked up another dead body and disappeared into the mist leaving a most stunned "enemy". "Who the hell was that?" Barnhardt voiced into the eerie silence. "Angel." came the response from another member of the German platoon who was retrieving the dead. "Can't figure out if it's male or female. Fritz always spoke highly of ... him. Makes you wonder why God is on their side." "He's not." came a voice from the fog. "In fact, He is highly pissed off by all this non-sense." It was Angel again. "Then why don't you do something about it?" "Because, Barney, I am not that high up on the ladder. The fact I am here is enough. Maybe." "Are there any on our side?" It was the other German. "I can't say for sure," Angel grunted under the weight of another body, "but I would think so." They heard the sucking sound of retreating footsteps. The German soldiers stood in frozen amazement before the sound of high pitched whistle warned them that hostilities were about to begin again. The small truce had ended. The artillery barrage began. The men ducked down in the narrow confines of the trench, some praying and some cursing. The shelling was quite close. It would be a few hours before the troops were ordered over the top and the massacre would begin. The experienced soldiers made sure their Lee-Enfields were clean and clear from as much of the mud as possible. They were strangely calm against this backdrop of chaos as they knew the game they were trapped into playing. Soon it would be their turn. Someday, a German bullet would release them from this never ending rotation of hell. Angel sat and spoke softly to a terrified new recruit from Lancashire. He was sixteen. The barrage stopped. Another whistle. Angel took position over the top of the sand bag. Carefully marking the targets, squeezing the rounds out one by one, Angel sent those who sold their souls for release to their just reward. It went on for a little under two hours before the Germans returned to their trenches. Angel had not seen Barney, but hoped he had followed the advice. The young boy lay less than a yard away with a bullet hole where his left eye should have been. "Corporal Smith! You are required in HQ!" The Sergeant bellowed. Angel saluted smartly and left for the back trench. It was surprising how different these trenches were. Hard to get to through the labyrinth of connecting trenches and tunnels, but, once there, it was less crowded and dry. Approaching one of the sentries, Angel announced, "Corporal Smith, 1st Battalion, King's Regiment, reporting sir." The sentry opened the door, announced Angel to the Commanding Officer then allowed Angel in. "Ah, Corporal Smith," began the whining voice of the Stow School Old Boy, "you have made it. We have a very important visitor here who would like a word with you." Angel stared straight ahead, remaining in stiff attention. "General, this is the sharpshooter I believe you were referring to. Apparently makes a kill with each shot. Most effective." The General stepped out of the darkness. Angel felt his presence and hate filled every fiber of her being. "Thank you, Major." The rich voice voice filled the small room with power and eloquence. "I shall take it from here. This is matter of national interest that must be discussed privately. You are dismissed." The Major snapped a salute and left without a word. The General slowly walked around Angel who did not move. "I am surprised, you know, to see you this way. I don't know what I was expecting, but this was not it." The General bent over ever so slightly and examined Angel's face. "Yes, under all that grime, it is you." He went and sat down behind the desk. "So, how are you keeping?" Angel said nothing and continued to study the knot in the wood just above and slightly to the left of the General's head. "I see. So why the guise of a boy?" "Freeze." The world stopped. Bullets that were flying at high velocity held their positions. Water that was falling floated strangely in mid-air. Words being spoken halted. The General raised his eyebrows. "Well, when did you learn that trick? You have been busy!" "What the hell are you doing here?" Angel spat at him. "Hell? Exactly. What are you doing here?" The General smirked. "Why am I not surprised to see you covered in glory? You have all the gold braid and ribbons, but where's the mud?" "Unlike you, I don't do mud." He brushed some non-existent fluff from his cuff. "I really do not like you dressed like that." He snapped his fingers and Angel was suddenly dressed in a white robe similar to that of a Roman lady and her hair hung fashionably to her waist. "As usual, you are inappropriate." She changed herself back. "What do you want?" "You, darling." His black eyes flashed red. "I think you should spend some more time with your precious Lilith." Her sweet tone belied the vicious intent. "Perhaps you would like to secure her release? I understand you had a hand in her captivity." "No more than you did. Now, what do you want?" "I order you to quit targeting my operatives." He dared her to disobey, which Angel did. "One, I am doing my job as prescribed by the military. Two, I am doing my job as prescribed by my Master. And three, you don't order me to do anything." "I am a general. I can order you to do anything." He smiled triumphantly. "Just like you. You never cared for the foot soldier. You let thousands of them suffer in your first venture. You never cared what happened to them. You only care about what happens to you." He rose and came behind her. He began to caress Angel's upper arms while he whispered into her ear. "I cared about what happened to you." "Liar." He started kissing her neck, "I didn't kill you when you betrayed me." Angel spun around and pushed him back. "No, you did far worse. And as for betrayal, I believe that is where Lilith enters the picture. Don't delude yourself about betrayals. You created it." Angel's eyes fired out green fire which seemed to amuse the General. "Come back to me and I will end the war." He stoked her face carrying on down her neck to the shoulder where his hand was forceably slapped away. "I would rather stay in the trenches as a mortal. Besides, you can't stop this war. It is out of your control. That's why you are here. You started it but it has, as ever, backfired on you. Millions are dead, destruction is everywhere and you can't figure out how to finish it so that you are on top. That's why you need me. Not now. Not every again." He pulled her intimately close, "I wouldn't say that. We are two sides of the same coin. When was the last time you felt like a woman?" Angel sighed at his last gambit, "Last night when I helped a young boy deal with his terror. I held his hand and wiped his tears and listened to his prayers as he begged God to let him go home. Yes, last night when I was his mother." "I was thinking more about the part that occurs before the stretch marks, nappies and midnight feeds. You remember that surely," he suggested seductively. "You will never change." Angel broke free. "I intend to follow my instructions given by those who know far more than you do or ever will." She shoved him out of the way and resumed her position, "Time!" The world sprung back to life again. "I will continue to do my duty, Sir!" Angel yelled loud enough for the Sentry and the Major, who was standing outside the door eavesdropping, "It will be my honor to serve the King and Country as a sniper." Angel smiled sweetly at the General. "You will lose this war, Mary Elizabeth." He kissed her. "Not before you do, Lucien." She bit him. "Dismissed!" Hate snarled his features. Angel turned on her heel, looked down and changed appearances. Corporal Smith had won this round. The following weeks proved to be worse than ever. The General was making sure that every man who ever signed up for this insanity would know death in its ever varying forms. The bodies in No Man's Land became a mountain, but a temporary truce was never called. Angel became aware that Corporal Smith was marked man by a German Sniper. Twice bullets came whizzing past the ear. If Angel wasn't careful, it would be only a matter of time before death tried to make a visit. After five weeks, the truce was called. Barnhardt and his men carefully entered No Man's Land to collect the rotting remains of their comrades. Angel decided not to make the rounds due to the sniper threat and convinced the Sergeant of the need to keep sniper cover over their men should the Germans prove untrustworthy. "General in the trench!" The men snapped to attention. "Corporal Smith, front and centre!" Angel stepped three inches forward so as to be identified. The General, Major and Sergeant made their way towards her. "Corporal Smith," the General began, "I understand that you have been most effective lately. I understand that you have had forty-five confirmed kills in the last two weeks. Commendable." Angel said nothing, so the Sergeant barked, "Speak up, Soldier!" "Sir, yes Sir! Thank you, Sir!" Angel delivered in the best military fashion. "I would like to see you in action, Corporal. Take out man there," the General ordered. "Sir, we are in a truce. If we break the truce, we will be putting our men in grave danger." The Major's posh voice registered real concern. "Yes, however, it would send the clear message that we are not to be trifled with. Corporal, take your position." No one said anything else and Angel stepped up and set the rifle. "Take that man there. Not the one with the glasses, but the man next to him." It was Barnhardt. "I have a better site on spectacle's, sir." Angel could see this one radiated evil. The General knew it too. "No, the man next to him." He was daring her. It was an act of complete evil. It would break the truce. It would be murder. Yet, Angel was bound by military discipline to obey. Corporal Smith began setting the site. It would be a clean kill with as little pain as possible. This would have to be the single finest shot she ever made. "Do hurry up, Corporal. The man could escape by the time you are ready." The General ordered lazily. "He is moving about, Sir. I do not like to waste munitions, Sir. A clean kill is best." Angel had kept her head above the parapet for at least two minutes. This was surely long enough for the other sniper to get a line on her. Please make it a clean kill, she prayed. She retook her position and sighted Barnhardt. A moment later the shelf under Corporal Smith's feet crumbled and the sniper slipped three inches making the shot land in the trees. At the same time a whizzing sound went above the steel helmet that all Tommys wore. "Officer down!" went the cry. "Officer injuried!" Angel turned to look to see blood pouring from a wound in the General's shoulder. "Hell and damnation!" he swore. "You're here too!" He was then quickly taken out of the front trench. Angel looked to see what the General was talking about, saw nothing. The sun suddenly shone as all in the line of fire froze. Angel then jumped back on the shelf, saw the other sniper who held his hands up, aimed and fired. "Evens!" was her shout. The men in No Man's Land returned to their grizzly duty. Barnhardt look at her and Angel gave a brief salute. The madness continued for another eighteen months. More men: more dead. The General died of his injuries, but Corporal Smith shed no tears. It would only be a matter of minutes before he reappeared in a new form. The truces became more often and many of the men talked about going on strike. What would they do if we refused to fight? was a common question put forward by both sides. Yet, each man did his duty and continued to kill or be killed as ordered by those who were 'of a better class'. Barney and Angel met regularly in the middle. Angel asked after Barney's son and told him to keep his head down. Barney smiled and joked how it was more her eyesight he was concerned about. Then they would pick up the bodies of those who either unfortunate or fortunate depending on how one looked at it. The last day of the war found them together. At the appointed hour both armies laid down their weapons, crossed to the middle and said goodbye. "Hello, Tommy." Barnhardt looked different without his helmet. "Hello, Fritz." Angel took off her helmet. "It's red!" He announced. "I prefer to think of it as auburn." Angel smiled. "Goodbye, Angel." "See you 'round, Barney." "Will you? Will I see you again?" His brown eyes earnest. "What do you think?" They shook hands. "Yes, you will see me again." And the sun shone brightly. A soft breeze blew. It was November, but it wasn't the vicious Novembers they grown to know. Barney extended his gnarled hand to envelope her small soft white one. "So I did see you again." "I said you would. How's your boy?" "Fine. He lives in California." Barney didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Where had the seventy years gone? "I know. You have a beautiful granddaughter. I was relieved you left before the madness started again." "Were you there, too?" He looked hopeful but sad. "Yes. But it was different. I won't bore you with the details." She looked away over the hills as sadness washed over her. "Why? Why were we here? What was the point?" In all the time they had shared during the horror, Barney had never asked that. "Arrogance. Pride. Stupidity. I don't know." Angel thought for a long moment, still holding his hand. "I am not that far up the ladder, you know, but I would put my money on evil. Temptation. Power. That is what it is really all about isn't it?" "For an angel, you don't know as much as you should and you don't admit to half the wisdom you possess." They laughed for a moment. "Will I see you again?" "What do you think?" "Why green not black?" Barney didn't want to let go yet. "Immortality not death. They still live as long as we remember them." "I am not a Christian." "I know. That is not important to me. There are no atheists in foxholes." "What is your real name?" Burning curiosity finally got the last of him. "Mary Elizabeth." The old man pulled the veil back down. "Remember me, Mary Elizabeth. I want immortality."
Copyright © 2005 Kimberly McGuinness |