Captain Gibbs of the 4th Suffolks looked at his pocket watch. The piece of shrapnel that had torn private Hughes hand off had also smashed the glass, but the hands still worked. He had to admire the German engineering. It was three o'clock. Would Jerry try again today or call it off until the morning? He had now been cut off since mid morning with only the two sections of 'C' company left holding a small section of the town. The old man was dead. Only lieutenant Hutchinson and the chaplain remained among the officers. The Royal Scots on his left had retired in the night. The survivors of the Dorsets on the right had struggled into the town two days ago reporting most of their men had been wiped out in the first massive artillery bombardment or in fleeing. At least they had brought a Lewis gun with them. Between him and his own lines lay the enemy. His men were exhausted and down to only a few rounds each. How many assaults had there been now? Eight? Ten? Each time the Germans were pushed back but managed to hold onto a little more of the town. Fortunately for his men many of the men now attacking didn't seem to show much savvy...bunching up too much and not using cover. Troops sent from the Russian front no doubt. Not so the feared Stormtroopers though. They had arrived sometime that morning, Already they had captured the eastern part of town and driven his men out. They were a different kettle of fish altogether.
He was dimly aware of a change in light on his right side. A man was standing in the doorway and had been talking to him, but his shattered eardrum prevented him from hearing what he was saying. He turned his head and got to have a good look at the man. His clothes were torn and his head bandaged and covered in mud.But he recognised his stripe as one of the divisional runners. Somehow in all the confusion he had got through.
Ten minutes later when the man had left to look for what passed as an aid station, Gibbs raised his field glasses and looked out past the town to the west. He could vaguely hear the short report and thump of light artillery and the pitter patter of machine guns, but a low hill kept him from seeing what was happening. Well, if it was a relief party then they had better jolly well hurry it up was all he could think. He called out to Sergeant O'Leary and the solid frame of the Irishman appeared at the window of the grain store. 'Sar!"
"Sergeant, tell the men to stand to. Fix bayonets and finish scavenging for any ammunition they can find. It seems Division think we're worth saving.."
More soon.
30 March 2008, 11:28:58 PM
