Blood, Mud and Corpses (Royal Zombie Corps Book 1) by C. M. Harald

Author:C. M. Harald [Harald, C. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-07-21T23:00:00+00:00

Ten minutes before the attack was due to start, orders came down from the officers for a final kit check, and for the men to ready themselves. Scott wandered up and down checking that his squad was ready for action. He was pleased to see that all appeared as it should. Some desk-bound Colonel would have had a fit at the state of the soldiers, their uniforms covered in dirt, but what mattered was that they had their weapons and equipment ready.

Five minutes before the attack was due, the order to fix bayonets came along the line. The long steel blades clicked onto the end of each rifle, a sound that was hard to hear over the continued noise of the barrage. Each soldier now had a greatly extended reach, tipped with a deadly blade. Groups of soldiers gathered around the bottom of the ladders that had been erected up the side of the trench, ready for their climb over the parapet.

Scott, at the top of their ladder, sneaked a look over the top of the parapet.

'Won't be long now. As soon as the artillery stops, we'll listen for the whistle and then off we go.' Scott loudly announced to those within earshot.

Suddenly the guns fell silent along the line. The last shells travelled overhead, before exploding on the German lines. The men braced themselves. There was a palpable air of fear in the trench. Davies and Simmonds had gone white, Morgan was ticking, his face twitching, the two veterans, Scott and Matthews looked grimly determined, yet were both shaking. Marsh realised that he was shaking as well, first at the ladder with his hands ready to scale. Wells was right behind him, so Marsh could not see how terrified his friend was.

After what seemed like an eternity, Marsh heard the whistles blowing along the line and felt the push of Wells behind him. Marsh fumbled his way up the ladder, feeling utterly disconnected from his body which seemed to be moving automatically. At the top he nearly paused with shock at the sight in front of him, but fortunately Wells, pushing from behind, moved him on. The scene was horrific, a cratered waste of soil, muddy craters in some places while a pall of smoke hung over the German lines from the preparatory barrage. Sticks of wood attached to strands of barbed wire stood everywhere and he could clearly seem what looked like bodies lying in no-mans-land. It was hard to see the enemy trench, but a raised line, probably their reverse parapet was just over one hundred yards away. He just managed to wonder if the artillery shells had been landing that close before he started to move again.

He made off at a trot when he saw the first winking light from the low-lying blockhouse to the left, shortly followed by the rat-a-tat sound of a carefully managed machine gun, firing in short bursts to conserve ammunition and ensure accuracy. Even further to the left another machine gun started up, while he could hear voices in front of him shouting in German.

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