Shell

Part 5: Front lines at Gravenstafel Ridge. Ypres, Belgium. April 22, 1915.

Gravenstafel Ridge. Ypres, Belgium. April 22, 1915.

"Ich erinnere mich nicht, Gerhard! Ich erinnere mich nicht!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, soldier?" Gerhard shouted back, barely discernible through his thick gas mask.

The Masked Man shouted at Gerhard, but the shelling that had begun minutes ago made it nearly impossible to communicate. It was loud and thunderous and drowned out everything around them, including the voice of this crazed man, out of rank, who moments ago had run up to Meyer Gerhard, and grabbed him by the shoulders, shouting his name.

Gerhard shoved him off, trying to focus on what he was about to do. He had a whole platoon behind him waiting for his word, and the Generalmajor had told Gerhard and the others that the shelling was the final signal that the gas had spread as far as they needed it to. The shelling would continue even after they rushed over. They had it timed to the second when to stop. The plan was at the double whistle signal, they were going over. And Gerhard was one of the men leading them in.

Hauptman Gerhard Meyer had fought bravely for almost a year to earn command of this platoon of men. And now here he was; Hauptman. Selected to lead men for a special battle. The first use of the secret weapon that would turn the war. The gas. The Generalmajor had reassured Gerhard and the rest of the 4th that they would be fine. The gas would only incapacitate the others who had no masks.

The sun was setting and the dark green and muddy brown of the hills were on the bottom of the dim blood-orange sunset, the purple and indigo clouds were on the top. The browns and grays of the earth were blending together into blacks. Illumination flares would soon be launched to light the way once dusk gave way to night.

The Masked Man kept shouting at Gerhard. Between the shelling Gerhard caught a couple words he recognized:

"Hugo! Kriegsakademie!"

Gerhard looked the soldier up and down.

The Masked Man took off his mask in the fastly waning twilight of the trench. Then suddenly a flare in the sky lit up the trench and Gerhard saw him fully: Half his face was covered in scars, he was having trouble speaking, barely any hair to speak of, and he only had one good eye. But even here in this trench in the darkness, Gerhard could see the color of it.

"Hugo??"

"Put your mask back on!" An officer shouted as he passed by in the trench. Hugo didn't.

"Yes, it's me. You remember me! We have to go, Gerhard!"

"What happened to you?" Gerhard tried hard to hold back his disgust but he failed.

"We have to go home! You have to take me home!"

A whistle sounded somewhere behind them. Gerhard's platoon rushed forward to the edges of the trench. Gerhard suddenly remembered his duties.

"Ready men!" He shouted. They followed his orders. "Put your mask back on, Hugo!"

"Gerhard, I don't remember where -- you have to tell me where home is. My head -- I don't remember Gerhard. Berlin, right? Where we were in school?"

"Stay here, Hugo. I... I have to go over. I have to go over."

"Gerhard! Where is our home? Is it Berlin?"

It finally occurred to Gerhard just what was happening. He stopped focusing on the task at hand long enough to take in Hugo's sad state.

"You don't remember? ...Colmar? Ida?