1914 Chapter 17 Finale

17. Christmas in the trenches.

Erich Kroner, Oberst

The new order soon after Christmas.

The 1^st Guard was to be disbanded and some of us will report to the Eastern Front. The others will be absorbed into the other Divisions there at the Western Front and continued the battle. For those of us going to the east, we were to reinforce the 8^th Army there in the battle against the Russians. I was one of the unlucky ones to be posted east. I dreaded that posting for I knew from the archives, war with the Russians were never pleasant and the weather than at the beginning of the year was hard winter.

I send the order to the officers on the disbandment.

Peter Weiner, Hauptmann

It was a shock that we were moving east but I knew my role as the soldier was to fight where I was sent. The euphoria of the festivities was over and we were to face a new enemy. I gathered my men and told the next task. It was met with sighs and mutterings.

“I signed to fight the French.” I looked at the veteran.

“Why much I go? I want to stay.” I heard the moaning and mutterings and then told then to pack up.

“We will fight wherever we are needed.”

“Tell that to Napoleon. He regretted invading the Russians.” Trust Kaiser to bring up the historical facts. He was one of them selected to go east. “He got bumped off more than he could take.”

“Napoleon is French. We are Germans.” I heard the Sergeant spoke. “Maybe you could sneak in and change the roster for yourself.”

Everyone laughed at that even myself. If that was possible then only Kaiser could do it.

“What don’t you return to Berlin and be the real Kaiser?” The veteran who spoke that then stood up and saluted Dietrich as if he was the Kaiser.

Dieter Luther, Gefreiter/Sergeant

The idea of being a soldier then dampened with the last few months of conflict. I did not like to move on without my men but they were going to the east. For me then, it was the western trenches.

I looked at Peter. He was a good cousin and above all, an officer. I made the rank and showed the Army how we had shaped up. I wondered how he will do in the east. I was told that those going east will have a week off in Berlin before they moved on. It was good for them in terms of their morale. I also knew a few who said that they will desert then but it was not of my concern.

Mine then was another member of the family was in the Army.

Ernest Luther, the rear gunner on the airplane. He had turned eighteen and decided to join despite the objection by Uncle Pieter Luther. I was given the letter that he was coming to the Western Front but where I was unsure.

I have not told Peter about this. It does not matter for Peter was not close to Uncle Luther. He need not know for it will affect his concern for the two of us.

“Au revoir, men.” I borrowed from the French and saluted the men leaving for the east.

“Auf Wiedersehen, Sergeant.” They replied in German towards me.

Abel Langer

I got my transfer order. I was going east. I felt relieved then. It may give me new pastures and outlook to my role in the Army, I joined the others in the farewell feast.

“Like here, it stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea. It involved most of Eastern Europe.” I listened to another doctor who had some reading on it. “The Russians invaded eastern Prussia in the northwestern but we pushed them back. That did not stop the Russians. They came in from the south in Galicia. They defeated the Austro-Hungarian forces while we went for Warsaw but failed.”

“I was told that this year, we will retake Galicia.”

So it was another offensive in the war and not be entrenched in the dugouts. I was not against the entrenchment but it was delaying the war and more to it, we were losing soldiers from the snipers and the random bombings. I felt that war should be penetrative and getting it done. Like what we do as Surgeons. We do not hesitate to operate and remove.

“Abel, all the best to you in the Eastern Front.” I smiled at the other who wished me luck. I was keen to go and leave all of it there behind.

Including Stella.

Facts Listing

1914 – 1917

On the Eastern Front, it was estimated to reach over fifteen million with the Germans side at nearly six million. The losses on the Western Front was lower at below four million casualties. The German lost about two million.

In total the war caused a loss of nearly twenty million lives.

1940 -1945

The total loss at the Western Front was about five million in the militaries but the civilian’s death was about one point six million.

The total loss in the Eastern Front was over fifteen million with the civilian casualties at about twenty-four million.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastern_Front_(World_War_II)#Casualties

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_Front_(World_War_II)#Casualties

Deep Sea Chapter 1

From the depths of Jimmy Loong

End June 2015

Completed in end of January 2020

I wrote this tale back in 2015 and posted parts of it but I got stuck at the closing chapters. I did some re-writes and added in some new chapters. 

It was the same with the Lone Ranger too. I did apologize for my oversight and nastiness to post the tales then. Since then, I have made my mind to post after I completed the whole tale. 

Onto the tale, it was one of my efforts then to try the steampunk genre. It was tough but fun. Its a matter of explaining the mechanical parts that overwhelm me at times but fun to learn those new designs. 

And here its, the final cut in 2020 done some weeks ago. 

Cheers

Book 1

"The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore."

— Vincent Van Gogh, Painter

1.

The Surface

The carriage that pulled away from the high gates was not grandeur in design but more to a hearse design with its extended wagon space. The carriage was steered by the pilot with the lone handle and the foot was on the pedals. It was the norm for these steam-operated contraptions and its operator preferred to be named as drivers. They were differentiating themselves from the horsemen with the oat fed geldings. Their contraption was fuelled by the coal-burning steam engine that works the gears and screws when the hot steaming turbine at the rear released the steam into the engine.  No one cares that the contraption may be contributing to the smog that was already suffocating the city. If it was, it was only a meager amount compared to the large chimneys of the factories that we're churning out the needed for the growing population there.

The carriage was a six-seater with the coal-driven steamer in the front, looking like a train steamer but with the shorter boiler upfront. The carriage was supported by six sets of wheels of which four was supporting the boiler with the pilot compartment. The rear was the passenger’ wagon separated by the leather-lined compartment wall to keep the heat off. That carriage was modified for only two seating with a table laid across it then lined with rolls of drawings on paper over the stacks of crates. As mentioned earlier, the carriage was akin to a hearse for it lacked all the fineries of the drapes and cushions that adorned the other passenger driven contraption and it also lacks the drinks counter.

Lord Henry Huggins was not a generous Lord when it comes to the plush and comfort. The man was still looking in his prime with the wide shoulders and trimmed chest despite his late fifties age. He hardly drinks with his strict high vegetation diet. He was a retired General some years back due to a bad leg from a fall off his horse. Since then, he had distanced himself from that infernal four-legged riding beast, as in his exact words.

His Lordship on retirement, however, had not dwindled on his brilliant mind that was to do wonders for the military in inventions. With his retirement, he had indulged himself in developing what he termed as military assisted designs to further mankind in the new frontiers. He was by no means fearful of funding for his inventions for his late father had left him a fortune in the family estate.   

“Watch out for those bloody holes, your son of an oaf.” His Lordship had had his writing ink spilled on the paper roll. He swabbed at it before it dried and then scratched at it to highlight the earlier details. He cursed at the driver for the mishap although it would have helped if he had paddled the carriage with some springs and cushions. It costs more to add those units. His nature of longing for the hard boards and tacks from his military days.

“Nothing beats a good night sleep on the hard boards.” His Lordship always beamed that in the morning.

His Lordship leaned out of the carriage window and hollered to his servants who were doing the paces at the rear. They were soldier mates of his but they were ranked way below him. His Lordship had them riding the fine horses he bred.

“Stewart”, The Lordship called out to his butler and personal aide riding a grey gelding with the back upright on the saddle. “Did you pack the extra set I asked of you?”

“Aye, your Lordship.” The ex-Sergeant Major voiced back with his deep baritone voice that was used once before to rouse up the sleepy heads in the barracks. “It’s in the box marked “Extras”.

“Good, old chap. Keep in pace.” Lord Henry then popped his head in but he had to annoy the driver. He pulled at the metal cup that had a wire linked to the driver’s compartment. He depressed the switch which will light up the lamp there to signal the driver. It was the only method to alert the driver above the loud noise from the coal engine.

“What’s my time of arrival, Jones?” His Lordship was a man with precision with his time and action. He does everything on a timely basis including his indulgence in the game of bridge. He hurries the others in the game so that he could complete the game within the scheduled hour. He was all about timing and carries two watches plus a stopwatch with him at all times.

“It’s all about timing, my good chaps.” That was his Lordship favorite quote. There was a standing joke that his Lordship probably shagged with the precise number of strokes. He was not married but he has been associated with several ladies of fine standings. They have moved on but none of them complained of their relationship except one that was rumored to say the Lordship held a hard baton. It was never elaborated which or what but it was the hush of the servants he rode them harder than the stable studs.

“We should be there soon, my Lordship.” Jones was formerly a Corporal who never made it beyond that rank due to insubordination. The man was a fine chap from the southern island and was built with a tall lanky frame that had on his accolades in the fighting rings then. His left hook was the subject of his bouts. Nevertheless, the Corporal had been a fine guard for his Lordship as a personal guard with the gallant protection when attacked. His Lordship retained the Corporal as well as the Sergeant Major for their loyalty and strength.

“Scram it, you miscreant for a Welsh. I have a scheduled appointment there”, his Lordship picked up his watch on the vest pocket to check. “In bloody ten minutes.”

“I can’t push the steamer any more, my Lordship.” Those ending words held a twang of cynical tone. “Your servant had got us some lower grade coals. Probably had soot over his sight when he parted the shillings. My Clarks and Guinness’ are moaning through the shafts.”

“Screw your clangs and gears.” His Lordship snapped back with his barroom tone. “I will have you flogged for your remarks.”

“Dos i chwarae efo dy nain…” The Corporal cursed in his own words. It was Welsh for go fuck your granny.

“I heard that, your oaf. I have relatives in your sodden hills too.” His Lordship was getting nowhere with the argument and decided to shut it off. He slumped back into his leather seat and huffed on his self-wrapped paper with tobacco. He picked it up from his lads in the ranks and was hooked. He disliked the wrapped prick long cigars for they lack the smoke he needed.

The Depth

The deep fishing ship named the Sea King was pushed to the limit by the battering waves of the North Sea. The hull was constructed with welded steel construction with a raised foredeck and the steel top house placed on it. The stern was designed with elliptical design while its bow was flared. The ship consists of three decks; the main deck, spaces below that and the storage below the decks.

The upper deck held the forward weather deck with the wheelhouse. The latter also served as the navigation bridge with the captain and first officer’s mess.  The weather deck is stocked with the fishing and harpoon equipment, deck cranes and hatches to the lower holds and machinery below deck. The machinery deck is divided into seven large compartments for storage. There was the forward collision bulkhead essential for the ship journey which also holds the saltwater ballast tank. At the stern was the refrigeration and main propulsion steamer engines which powered the deep fishing ship. Its steam was released through the ship’s funnel above the engine. The coal holding areas were next to the main engines. The deep fishing ship has two high beams that support the sails needed when the winds were blowing or to save on the coals. The two beams were upright with its sails wrapped around the trunk. It could be unfurled in minutes and the billowing winds will sail the deep fishing ship on its journey.

On that morning, the Sea King was greeted by the fifteen feet high waves that were flooding the decks with water. The sea waves are generated by the low-pressure areas where the gusts of wind will push the crest to its limit. As the volume of the water accumulates and the wind increasing n velocity, the crest of the wave will soar higher. It’s when the crest of the wave falls down that creates the strong energy force that resembled a solid wall that could crush on the person. The difference is that the next crushing blow may be just seconds away. It was the works of the sea to show its prowess.

The seas have never been tamed by Man, unlike the solid lands. Here the saltwater ruled the wide surface with its temperamental storms. The man had battled it with solid structures that extend to the water depths but it only reached a small fraction in reclaiming the sea. Its flaw was the need to hold anchor to the main solid land or it may be swept away. Then Man has had designed the sea surfing structures they called boats and ships if its larger but those are just mere toys structure when the sea flexed its irritation.

The Sea King has been fighting the waves for over ten years since its launch and with its bruising refit that took over three times during that decade, it had ranked it as a hero among the other ships. It was on its thirty-three expeditions voyage, then after two months of sea surfing, she was returning home to port with the catches in the hold. She had been harassed on her return with the sea calling for its captured inhabitants but the Sea King was adamant to make it to port. She fought and raked her way past those storms and ever determined to make it home. During the last three days and nights, the See King had shouldered the sea conditions.

Captain Arthur Kendrick Rodriquez stepped in from the storm into the wheelhouse where his first mate was still holding the steering of the ship. Each step taken from the lower deck and onto the storming water flooded the main deck was a hellish trip by itself. He had to anchor himself to the safety ropes and pulled him past the swelling waves. Each blow of the wave was like being given a ring fight brawl with him against four others. His yellow pantsuit was all soaked to the inside. It was freezing cold from the saltwater but he knew that his real motivation was the wheelhouse with the hidden cache of hard liquor and a gentle lady to speak to.

“How’ the chappies at the aft?” First Officer Stacy Rowles called out when the Captain stepped in. The First Officer was a young lady who had lived most of her time on the boat or overboard since she was five. She was hardly what you may term as beautiful with the weather-beaten expression but her short reddish cropped hair and the sturdy feminine body was a feisty figure to stare at.  When on shore leave, she took part in the long runs or hiking up rough trails. He had most men beaten to the finish line. On her seafaring trips, she had shed her tight shorts and tees for the thick flat straight rubbery yellow hoodie pantsuit and Wellington boots.

“I won’t recommend a stand-up fuck there with the waves churning our guts.” Captain Arthur replied while staggering to his honorable seat. He was a stout rough and huge build wrestler frame crammed into the same yellow pantsuit but his head was covered by the salted washed Captain’s hat. His face was caked with the two weeks old beard while his eyes brows dug into his forehead to give him a snarling look. He stood tall at nearly seven feet which literally mold him into the giant category. He reached for the hidden bottle of hard liquor and drowned himself half of it to stop the body from chattering with the cold.

“So Elise giving the new guy the standing ovation, huh?” Elise was the cook and besides cooking, she was the only one that would fancy a fuck on the stormy deck. She once told Stacy, that given the choice on a boring journey of over two months, the next best thing to do was getting laid by the crew members. She has plenty of offers given that there were only two of them who were ladies on the decks with the nut holes unless you fancy a butt plug, then you need not concern on the boobs and focus on the butt... 

“Isn’t much they can do for now.” The Captain took to his seat on the wheelhouse. He was born to sail like his forefathers and their’ before. His blood lineage was from the breeds of sailing greats of the Spaniards and the English. His grandfather told him that two things matter on the ship; the liquor and then the ship. Both will save your life.

“I thought you and that Arnold chap was sizzling then.” Arthur beside his great sailing skills somehow had a bad thing for a conversation piece. Stacy frowns her hard creases while her stare was on the next rise of the wave. Arnold was the new crew member who had joined the Sea King for the fishing expedition. His last ship went down with three-quarters of the crew but he was rescued along with the others. He was also the one showering Elise with the fucking sojourn. The sleeping quarters were cramped and for a rendezvous of sex, the parties are not ignored even at plain sight. He did fancied men but none did of him.

“He was but on the Sea King, I am frigid like the Snow Queen. My only lover is the sea. Here we get fucked on every rise of the wave.” Stacy replied. She was every bit part of the Sea King while it plowed through the wave. If the deep fishing ship gets swept on its port or starboard, she will list it over by the wave. It was crucial timing on how you ride with the wave or over it.

“I heard that we got a new adventure when we hit the port.” Stacy cut in without hesitation. They have been on the expedition for over two months then and were on the returning voyage. Captain Arthur took up his silver flask of the hard liquor and whooshed down its remaining content with one gulp.

“It won’t be what you think of. I heard that we won’t be sailing per se but actually submerging.” Captain Arthur replied. “I dinna care. I am retiring soon after.”

“Submerging? Heck, I have not done that before since Brutus tried to drown me in the bath.” Stacy laughed. She recalled that incident but poor Brutus lost his desire for any sexual assault after she knifed him at his groin. It does not pay to do by force when it comes to Stacy. She carries her diving dagger strapped on her left thigh even during her sex acts.

It was then Captain sighed when he realized soon he was to miss the danger of sailing on the high seas.

Lone Ranger Chapter 13

13.

Lance in his latest disguise then as the bespectacled medicine salesman strolled the street while tugging his horse. He had one of these spare white shirts over his dark pants. He arrived soon after the morning sun and made his way to the hotel there. The town was filled then with personnel in uniforms but there were few town folks around and even the Sheriff office’s door was left open but there were no officers there. Most of the stores were closed or shuttered shut. He tried to book a room but the hotel was fully occupied.

“I am sorry, Mr. Jones but we are fully occupied.” The hotel receptionist told him. “With the train in the town and the Armies having their meet here, we are out of rooms.”

“I’ll be darned. I lost my bags in the hills running from the Indians and now you tell me I can’t get a room.” Lance huff and groaned on his reply and then proceeded to the saloon. Once he stepped in, he was looking at the different uniforms of the gathered there. There were the blue uniform of the Army and there were the colors of the French and Prussian. They were all wearing gun belts with the various design of guns in it. There were the Corsairs there too. The place was no different from the last one and the ones before it. There was a similar décor to all of them. They were all rejoicing with the free drinks offered. Lance stepped out and looked for another place to rest. He saw the hardware store and walked towards it.

“How can I help you, Sir?” The lady asked from behind the counter. The store was like any but its shelves were close to empty. Every nails and hammer to the long handles picks were missing.

“I doubt so. Your store looked empty ….” Lance replied but he was cut off by her.

“I am closing the store so you best leave.” The lady told him. Lance was to leave when he noticed the crosses on the ceiling. “Please leave.”

Lance left the store and took it to the next street. He came across the wooden barricade with the wires on the street. It was to close that part of that town. He noticed there were guards there and the ones behind the barricades were the colored folks and natives. He stepped closer but was stopped by the guard there.

“Step back, Sir. This area is off-limits.” Lance looked at the guard. He was dressed in the Army uniform with the gun belt and the Navy Colt. On the shoulders were the Lieutenant pips there. He was wearing the Army issued hat and had a grim look on the face.

“Eddie Lawrence Jones. I was thinking if I can sell them some of my medicine. It’s potent and….” Lance introduced his pseudo but the Lieutenant had him chased off. He retraced his steps and then saw a familiar face behind the barricade.

It was Tonto. He was dressed like the white man in the cheap ugly suit and hat.

Tonto turned away from the barricade. He moved to the row of houses there which was used to intern the people there. He saw the few Native Indians; they were Apaches and Pauites with some Navajo. On the sideline were the Mexicans and there were the colored ones. He had sneak in last night and stayed on the street with his ears listening to the chats. He was looking for the one called the Chief. He walked to the rear of the houses and then kept to the rear vegetable gardens. He was looking for a particular house. He found it but he was caught by the sentry there.

“You are not one of us.” The figure standing there was a colored man dressed in the workman overall with an oversized wrench in his hands. He was not alone for he had three others behind but not all of them were colored. Two were white and one was a Navajo.

“Are you the welcoming committee for me to report to?” Tonto smiled. “My name is Gabriel Stone. I have just returned from England. How are you?”

Tonto handed out his right hand towards the man with the wrench. The colored man gripped the wrench as if he was going to swing it but Tonto has his hidden dagger in his left hand from under the shirt out. He grabbed the wrench with his right hand and pushed his left hand out. His dagger was at the colored man’s throat then.

“Move and you die.”

The man did not and neither did his friends.

“Don’t kill him, Dark Clouds.” Tonto heard the voice. He recognized it. It was the voice of someone from his past. It was an elder from his clan. The name was Red Horse and the elder man was dressed in the buckskin. He had aged and hobbled on the good left leg with the walking stick.

“We can talk inside.” Tonto was led into the nearby house with the herbs garden. It was the one that was different from the others. Soon Tonto was to talk but the one named Red The horse started off.  

“You are far from home?”” The elderly man asked Tonto.

“No further than the fight with the demons. Why are you here?”

“I am a Shaman like you. I was brought here to fight the demons.”

“How many of you can fight?” Tonto asked the old man. “How many weapons have you.”

Only two dozen men stood there with Red Horse. It was a ragtag army and only a few had their gun belts and no rifles. The others were holding sticks and even a shovel.

“They won’t come over here. They don’t need to. What they want is on the other side.” The Shaman told Tonto. “We are just waiting for our death.”

Tonto looked away to the other side of the town hoping that his partner will have better luck.

1914 Chapter 16

16. Christmas in the trenches.

Dieter Luther, Gefreiter/Sergeant

The news reached us at the trenches.

“Germany held another front; Eastern Front with the Austrians engaging the Russians.” It was told to us by Dietrich who had seen the report in the Oberst tent.

“Its pure madness to engage the war on both fronts. Here we now seated in the dugouts. What will be on the Eastern Front? Plodding through the snow towards Moscow. I thought the High Command should have read the war by Napoleon then. It’s a massacre to go there.”

“Kaiser, please explain.” One of the veterans called out.

“We invaded Belgium and almost took them off until the French and the British intervened. We committed our armies towards the sea campaign and now we ended with a boundary of over three hundred miles. What did our Empire do next? They declared war on Serbia with the alliance of the Austrians.”

“My mother was Austrian.” Another veteran called out.

“Well, her son is fucked to fight here.” Another replied. They all laughed and then Kaiser continued.

“The Russians opposed the invasion of Serbia.”

“Who are they? I meant the Serbians.”

“Hey, farm boy. Stay silent. Let Kaiser speaks.” Someone called up.

“He is not Kaiser.” The farm boy voiced out and thrown at with mud balls.

“Well, the Russians feared the Austrians will command the Balkans and objected. We instead declared war on the Russians a few months back.” Kaiser concluded the talk. I knew he had relatives in Serbia then.

“Enough of the talks. We got a war here.” I cut in. Then I decided to change the subject matter.

“Did we exchange out wines with the British?” There was a lull then in the battle and as it was near Christmas, one evening a soldier started singing the carols. To our surprise, the British replied with their version. Soon, we were all singing along till dawn. It became a daily ritual and hostilities ended as we remember Christmas.

“Sergeant, I have some cake. We can share it.” The recruit handed the cake out. I smiled for there we were in the dugout trenches, with our bottom of it lined of it with planks of wood. Or branches for it the ground below was wet and muddy. We needed the planks to walk over or we will have our boots sunk into the mud. The men have dug deep to above our heads and then piled the top with sandbags. For us to reach the top, we have improvised ladders made of wood and at some distance, we parted the sandbags to create the observation top.

“Hey, Sergeant. Can we call the Tommy (British) over?”

“Well, if you want to be served with a bullet or a bayonet up your butt?” I replied.

“That’s crude, Sergeant. We are near Christmas now. I am sure we can be civil in our manners.” The recruit replied. “I would.”

I nodded for I had heard rumors that both sides have seen some civility with the exchange of gifts recently. That was it took then for the men to call their counterpart to share the festivities. We ended up the exchange of gifts. I was guilty too for I exchanged some wine for the British rations. We were fed up with our own.

I approached the Hauptmann who then was unsure of the action.

“Peter”, I used his first name to address him. “We used to be neighbors. Can’t hold a truce for a day? Christmas is once a year.”

That was two days before Christmas.

Peter Weiner, Hauptmann

"I can’t authorize it,” I told Dieter. “We are at war.”

“In the previous wars, we have the truce to remove the wounded. Why can’t we do to celebrate a day on it?” Dieter argued back. I was to reply when I heard a runner barging down the trench. He was shouting that the British were calling for a football match.

“British against us? We will wipe them into the mud.” One of the men called out across the top. We laughed and then a boot was thrown over to our trench. It was a long throw and we were amazed by it.

“Hey, BEF. Take this for return.” One of the men tossed over his boot. “If you got balls, meet me on the field.”

A ball was kicked over and landed past our trench and was picked up by the men. It was a brown leather ball and pumped up with air.

“Hey, it’s football. Ours have gone flat.” The guy who collected it remarked on the ball. We do have our own, but the ball landed on some nails and got soft.

“Hey, you got a referee there?” I took in the antics and called out. I was an amateur footballer and had acted as a referee in some matches. More to it, I held a whistle with me.

“We do but he is French. We don’t really trust him.” That remark came with a length of laughter. We joined in and then more callous remarks went out until the messenger from the BEF walked to the midway with the white flag. He called for a friendly and we agreed.

That took men half an hour to agree on the players and there was the land clearance on the fighting field. We worked with others without any thoughts of hostility. I helped to push the wheelbarrow removing the debris.

“I am Steven. I am from Dover.” The British soldier helped me to push the barrow.

“Peter. I am from Munich.” I found the words came out as if I was meeting the other person casually on the street in London or at Munich.

“How do you do?” I extended my right hand. He took it and then we share jokes on the different nationalities. We did take turns to laugh at the French and the Italians.

“I guess the Italians are still waiting for their turn to fight.” That statement by me took the other by surprise and then he turned it to a matter of amusement.

“Yeah, probably true. They needed to get their acts together.” Steven's reply was dry but we laughed. It was from there to the football match and our hostilities became rivalry at the match. We played hard and changed the players when needed. We had to at times booed our own players off the field. It was not any match with the time limit but the fun was to play.

Erich Kroner, Oberst

I heard about the so-called truce and was agitated that a football match was going on. I grabbed my hat and was to reprimand them when I saw my aide came bearing than with a crate of wine.

“Oberst, the BEF send over with compliments.” The aide placed the crate over my maps. “Shall we return with some of ours?”

“Place that on the floor. The table held the maps and notes I needed.” I told the aide and then proceeded to the front line. When I was near it. I saw the indiscipline among the men. They were not in their posts and even discarded their rifles. Some were in the state of rejoice and one even wore the BEF helmet. I approached the men and was to reprimand them when I saw the football match over the top. I saw both sides were there and they were cheering their own mates. I reached for my Luger and was stopped by the Hauptmann.

“Oberst, we are on a truce for today. I don’t think you want to be responsible for an outbreak of hostilities.” I was cautioned by the Hauptmann. “The men have been battling for months and this is the first break we have.”

“Hauptmann. We are at war. How could… we fraternize with them?” I questioned the officer.

“Likewise, Oberst. I am sure their officers are having the same thoughts but the lower ranks are frustrated by the war. Most of them are not recruits like yourself and me. They are volunteers and for them, at this moment they celebrate the day with festivities. We cannot allow them to leave to return to their families. I have brought the the feeling of home to them.”

I was not to argue with the officer. I was feeling homesick and with the constant feeling of being dejected there. For a quarter of the year, I have come with expectations to achieve something but all I had experienced was dejection. I was dejected with the High Command strategy. It sounded so worthwhile when we were briefed on it. Then the implementation even with the huge army with us, we were still not making much ground.

And we started the Eastern Front then.

“Oberst, let the men have their day.” I heard the Hauptmann. I was to retort and then decided to retreat from the Front Line.

The next surprise I had was the call from the High Command.

“Who allowed them the fraternity?” All the senior officers on line along the Front Line were grilled by the High Command. “This must not be allowed. We will resume hostilities at dawn.”

I picked up the crate of wine and was to toss it when I realized it was Christmas day. The caroling was overwhelming. I took out a bottle and drank it down. That night. I had half the crate and was dead sleeping till the next day.

Abel Langer

It was Christmas but I was alone. Stella was gone. She left me the day without turning up for her duty as the nurse. I asked the staff from the orderlies to the nurses but they had no news of her. It was as if she up and left without telling anyone. I wanted to check on her but the duty called. There were some surgeons away from their posts. It was due to the so-named Christmas festivities. We did not have any war wounds but we had some other patients.

“Doctor, he stepped onto the plank and it went up. We did not know the nail was there.” The soldier was impacted on the left eye and he was going blind. I did my best but the damage was done. I did the whole procedure and later send the soldier off to the recovery area. He was stunned by the incident and have not spoken a word.

“Son, you are not entirely blind. You still have one eye. I had seen worse. They leave here without their arms and legs.” I did not why I made the comment then. It hurt the soldier who then turned away. I stepped away and was confronted by the nurse there.

“You are mean, Doctor. The young man lost his left eye, and you told him not to worry. He can’t do much with one eye. Neither will those who lost their limbs. Do you know what’s it like to be maimed?”

“Nurse, I am a surgeon. I see that every other day. I am used to that.” It was a harsh remark.

“Maybe you should lose Stella and make you feel better without her?” I was stunned by her remarks. I was very much attached to Stella then. I glared at the nurse and retorted towards her.

“My relationship with Stella has nothing to do with you.”

“And it doesn’t but she is a sister to all of us.”

“What did you know of Stella?”

“She left. She made the request to the Command and they had her transferred back.”

“Why would she do that? I love her. She could have told me.”

“We do not know. Maybe she had it with you. Removing you from her life was like removing a dead limb.” That was a harsh remark made to me then. I wanted to strike the nurse then. I held back my anger. The war was not to my expectations. I was to save lives and ended up miserable.

“Merry Christmas, Doctor.” I heard the nurse spoke to me. “Open your own present by yourself.”

I looked at the nurse leaving me there. She was right. A part of me has become so isolated. I was performing my task then without a thought to the works I was doing. It was all mechanical. I may have lost the human compassion.

Like I lost Stella then.

“Fuck.”

Tweet tweet 28/03/20 My Ham and Egg turned ...

Mummy, can I have Ham and Egg for breakfast, please?

Soon, darling but its Green Egg and Ham

Mummy, Egg and Ham do not turned green?

It will be when I am finished with it. Its also called Vegetables.


That tells of my diet of recent days. We are in Lockdown for the 12 days now. And guess what? It's extended till April 13th. I will be darned I have eaten more vegetables in the last 12 days than I did in the last 12 mths. I will be darned honest, my pants are loose around the waist and it ain't no stiffness pulling it down. If it was, it should be tighter.

Good morning to those of you who are just getting out of bed. Peed first, please. Don't hesitate. It was meant to be released like morning rain.

I just posted up Lone Ranger new chapters and dunked with Deep Heat. I have got some tales stored up in the PC and two detachable HDD for extra storage. Last night, I was up ( manner of observation) and a new tale sprung up. I am penning the plot; darned rare thing for me. I usually the plot while I write. And it may be fun.

But before that, I got one tale to complete at 40K words now. It's the apes and man.

Till then, and if I am not named Covid, I will always be here. Or if I sounded like Vader, then may the FORCE be with you.

Cheers

Lone Ranger Chapter 12

12.

The situation was contained later with Tonto explaining that he was away from the campfire. He was tending the horses when the attack came. He did rush to help but it happened so fast. The attackers were focused on the group and not him.

“I don’t know. Maybe they are avoiding me. I only left the group for a short while.”

Mr. Smith wanted to go back for his men at dawn. He told Lance to continue in the pursuit of the carriages.  It was then the Lone Ranger and his partner rode off in silence. They picked up the tracks and pursued them from there. It was dawn when they caught up with the carriages. Lance watched them with his looking glass.

The Hawkins group was resting by the river bank with three guards posted out. The others were all seated by the river banks and Mr. Hawkins was not seen. Lance saw the Corsair stepping out without his shirt. His chest showed bulky muscles with the muscular forearms. He was holding the saber favored by the Corsairs and having it swung as if he was in practice. The other gentleman was seated under the tree with his hands flexing the bowstrings. The Ottoman bow was a recurved composite bow with the wooden core and animal horn on the belly. The bow was built tough with the needed strength to pull the string back. Omar was fingering the grip that allowed him the thumb draw on his bow. The grip prevents the arrow from moving when the archer is riding. The draw on the string was short but with the tautness and pulled on the string, it was enough to propel the arrow in a long distance.

“Indians!” The warning went out. The resting guards all grabbed their rifles from the saddles and took cover. Lance counted twenty-five Native Indians in the first wave. They were riding in hard from the low hills. Lance focuses on the native warriors riding then. He saw the war paints on their faces and chests. They were carrying an assorted range of rifles from the Winchesters to Spencer.

“Ndee!” Tonto called out on the name of the attackers’ tribe. They were Western Apache and he knew their strategy. The attacking group was a distraction. There was a second group there who will sneak in. He scoured the river and saw the second group of ten warriors was crossing the river and going for the flank of the guards.

“There were no warring tribes there.” Lance voiced out. “Who are they?”

“Peoples of the land. They are not renegades but there is a purpose to the attack.” Tonto replied and then pointed to the bank across the river. “There is a Shaman. He is here to protect the warriors. It’s the demon they sought too.”

The ten attackers from the flank opened fire at the carriages. The guards tried to double back but then Lance saw the figure emerging from the carriage. It was Sergei who rushed out with his saber and then Omar also appeared. He held several arrows in his left hand and had them nocked on the bowstring. He released the arrow and then moved onto the next one. He fired in succession but with each shot, he aimed at different targets. He brought down four of the attackers there with his arrows.

Sergei had reached the nearest attacker and his saber removed the head in the swing. The Corsair then leaped up onto the headless body and used it to propel himself at the second attacker. He was shot then in the chest but that did not stop him. He cut the second attacker in half from the left shoulder with the downward swing before he did a body turned to toss the saber at the third attacker in the chest. The saber swung out like a rounded shield in a roll and cut into the flesh. The blood spurts out but by then Sergei had rushed forth to grab the saber and used the body as a shield. With his strength, he pushed forward with the body and rushed at the fourth attacker. The attacker fired off two shots before retreating from the forceful adversary but his flight was cut short when Omar’s arrow pierced the left side of his neck. Sergei had not seen arrow and slammed into the Apache with his body. The impact of the bodies slamming together propelled them back into the tree trunk. Sergei gave it last push before he pulled up his body.

By then the others were all killed by Omar with his bow. The bowman was precise with his shots and had then lowered his bow. His last shot had killed the attacker in the neck. The remaining natives had withdrawn with half their numbers dead.

The fight was all over.

Lance watched on and saw the astounding feeding then. The guards all walked away to a far distance and then Hawkins stepped out from the carriage with the lady. They approached the dead bodies by the river and then crouched down. Hawkins was seen holding the wounded warrior in the hands and then he motioned to the lady. She leaned over and bared her fangs. She sank her fangs in and devoured the blood off them. Hawkins moved to another and saw it was a young warrior. The warrior was still alive despite the protruding arrow in the chest.

“Kaga…” The young warrior addressed Hawkins. The word was short but it was definitive to address the demon before him. Hawkins glared at the warrior and then stomped his right feet on the warrior’s chest near the arrow. The warrior screamed out in pain and then glared back at the other. He felt ashamed to cry out in pain and then called for the Great Spirit to guide him.

“He-ay-hee-ee!” It was then Hawkins moved to stomp on the face and crush the nose into the brain. There were no more sounds than from the warrior. Across the river, the still surviving Shaman cried out with the words of the Spirits. He caught Omar’s attention then.

Omar ended the chanting with an arrow into the Shaman’s throat. The elderly Shaman fell to his knees clutching the arrow and soon fell dead. Omar and Sergei then joined in the feast on the others. It was like watching the pack of lions feed on the plains. The only difference was the group then only drank the blood.

Lance leaned over to throw up but Tonto was still watching. The former looked at him and asked.

“Do you relish such feeding?” Lance asked.

“No, it’s not the feeding. It’s to know the demons in them. I could only kill them if they are beyond the redemption of their sins.” Tonto replied. “Those are not sinners. They are the demons of the sins.”

The wait for the carriages to continue their journey was later at dusk after the rest of the feeding. The journey was for three more days and two nights before they arrived at what appeared to be a major town. The difference was the army fort build on the edge of the town and the major rail tracks interchange. There was a train on the tracks with a series of wagons in the load.

“Welcome to Fort Bright.” Lance heard Hawkins called out. “This is where we will begin our next journey.”