The Sharp End

The Sharp End - Part Two

The ground continued to shake and roll for a few moments before the enemy gunners found their range and the artillery barrage, never intended for the middle of No Man's Land, found its proper target a thousand yards farther south in the midst of the Allied line.

When the crash and boom of the artillery came to an end several minutes later, Burke cautiously raised his head.

He could see the rest of his men, including Sergeant Moore, doing the same in the trench in front of him.

Burke was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the sergeant suddenly began shouting something and frantically pointing back toward the German lines.

Burke looked behind him.

Grey–green tendrils of gas were creeping across the ground toward him, like questing fingers of some malevolent creature intent on strangling the life from him.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

All thoughts of dealing with the wound in his leg were forgotten at the sight of the gas. He'd never seen gas of this particular color before, but he had no doubt it was as deadly as any of the other kinds of chemical weapons he'd encountered so far and he needed to protect himself immediately. He grabbed the mask of his respirator from where it was clipped to the front strap of his haversack and pulled it over his head. He took the rubber mouthpiece that was attached to the chest box containing the neutralizing chemicals between his teeth and bit down hard to be certain of the seal and then made sure that the nose clips holding his nostrils shut were seated properly as well. If any contaminated air made it through the fabric or under the edge of the mask itself, the clips would keep him from breathing it in so it was worth the discomfort. Burke had seen too many men asphyxiating inside their masks not to wear the clips.

The mask restricted his vision to just what he could see through the round glass lenses of the eyepieces. It also filled his ears with the panicked sound of his own breathing, but Burke didn't pay attention to either one; he just wanted to keep that gas away from his throat and lungs.

The gas was almost upon him when he turned to Perkins, intending to pull the other man's mask on for him, only to be met by the younger man's unseeing stare.

Perkins was dead.

Burke spit out a curse around the mouthpiece of his gas mask and pushed the body away from him, scrambling up the forward edge of the crater as best as his injured leg allowed. The gas was very thick, restricting vision down to just a few feet, and Burke knew that this was his best chance of escaping. Gas attacks were almost always followed up by a wave of men on foot, but Burke knew they would wait for the gas to dissipate a little before marching into enemy territory. If he could use the cover that the gas provided, he might be able to rejoin his comrades and make the safety of the Allied lines before the Germans caught up to them.

Burke left the crater behind and hobbled forward as best he could, heading for where he had last seen the others.

A light breeze was blowing in his general direction of travel and it wasn't long before the full extent of the gas attack was upon them. Clouds of gas would envelop Burke for several minutes and then he'd step free of the vapor for a moment, just long enough to get a look around and re–adjust his trajectory before being swallowed up again.

The thick material of the mask filled his ears with the sound of his own panicked breathing, but he barely noticed, his mind lost on another thought.

Something to do with the color of the gas...

His foot caught on something and he went down, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the mouthpiece of his gas mask free from his lips.

He rolled over and sat up, his hands coming up to fix the mouthpiece as he looked to see what he'd tripped over.