The Good Captain

“So, we was absolutely freezing, and we shoulda been huddling together, for warmth like, but we wouldn’t. We didn’t wanna come off as mummy’s boys. Not out there.” I said emphatically. I was half-lying on me back, and half sat up against me pillow. It was about as soft as a pile of gravel, but it was better than what I’d become used to in the past year. The other lads were on their respective beds around the room and all ears turned my way. We were exchanging our sob stories and this was mine. The British fellas listened intently as I carried on describing the conditions in which my story began, while the Frenchies tried to understand what they could.

“You’ve seen it, after all. You know what it’s like out there. Out trench was pretty damn close to No Man’s Land, which is bad enough at the best of times, but that day… Anyway, the men start handing round cigarettes, not worried about running out ‘cos we figure we won’t be needing them any more. Those bullets with our names on ‘em were waiting for us, just outside.

“We lit our fags with our own matches and smoked in silence for a while. The mud seeped in through our boots and socks and froze our feet. I hadn’t seen me feet in a few days, and the last time I’d dared remove me sock I was treated to quite a shock. Me foot had appeared to be moving. I swear, I almost dropped me sock out of fright! It were covered, totally covered in black and pale lice and they squirmed and nibbled at me toes all day long. Not that I could feel it, of course, what with the cold. It certainly weren’t a pretty sight.

“I was squatting down in the trench, just outside our bunker, leaning against the wall. We’d had several days of mud—hell, we’d had a whole damn year of it!—so the wall were slimy and as the floor were too, I found meself slipping more often than not. Me bayonet rested beside me, looking quiet and innocent. Funny that; how guns can look so harmless when they’re just left lying about. It’s not the same with knives, knives always seem to look deadly even when not in use. Funny old world, eh? Anyway, we may have appeared calm; stood or sat around casually smoking. But the truth was we were scared. Scared—bloody terrified we were! You see, we had been together for the past two years and we was a team. We’d never lost a single private and this was all down to the actions of one man. Captain Jacobs, he was called. He was a proper posh bloke, from Oxford and he was the nicest man you could ever hope to meet. And the most lenient captain I’ve ever had. He had fox coloured hair and light grey eyes that twinkled when he spoke to you. He was only a few years older than me, and I’m six-and-twenty, but he always came across as though he were much more mature. Old before his time, as it were. Fatherly. He had this way of talking to you that made the mortar shells fade away, the hunger pains not stab at your gut so much and the Hun’s seem like a distant nightmare. He’d tell me and the privates tales of his time at university and his wife, Mary, and their two young boys. He made us feel safe.

“Captain Jacobs lead us through many a fight during the battle of the Somme, and he never let a man fall behind. He’d say to us ‘don’t worry chaps, for if you get into a tight spot, I’ll pull you out’, and he did. Time after time we passed through Hell and he brought us all out the other side. Oh, the faith we had in him…

“But this battle were a different matter. Y’see, Captain Jacobs bought it at the last fight. He was gunned down by a hail of bullets across his chest and died quickly. He died a hero’s death, for he never stopped shooting the enemy until the light went from his sparkling eyes and his life passed out of his mouth with his final breath. We never had a chance to take his body back to our trench and I’ll wager it’s still out there, lying in a bomb crater surrounded by other heroes like himself. Cried for him we did. It was like losing a brother—and I should know as I’ve got four back home. How his Mary took the news I don’t know, but I was the one to report his death being his lieutenant an’ all. I wrote home that very day and wept onto the page as I described the loss we were all feeling. Poor Mary, and those boys; having to grow up with their old dad’s death hanging over their heads.

“The feeling of his death hung over us too, that day we went back over the top. It was all around us, everywhere we looked, everything we said. It was as though the stench of death were haunting us all. The privates were worried—and for good reason. I was leading them and I had not got the skills of my superior. I could not think of a single inspiring thing to say, nor could I get a smile to form on me face. Every time I thought of what I would have to do I felt bile rise in my throat and had to work hard at keeping it down. Finally we received the orders to get ready to go over the top.

“We was told to grab a hold of our guns and stand by our trench climbing ladders. I fixed my gaze on a splinter of wood that stuck out of a rung that was at me eye-level and tried to block out the rain that had begun to fall down upon us. ‘On the whistle, company will advance’ we was told and a feeling like a lump of cold lead settled down in my stomach. I wanted to say something reassuring and brilliant to my men, but I could neither think of anything, nor open my mouth to speak. My tongue I, it seemed, had swallowed and my voice was nothing but an intelligible croak. Then the whistle blew.

“It was my first time leading a regiment against the Huns, and I was appallingly bad at it. Three of my lads bought it in the first few steps into No Man’s Land, screaming as they went. We reached the first line of barbed wire and I almost couldn’t make it over it. There were a half a dozen men draped across it right in front of me. The wire cut into their skin and pierced their open eyes. They had been dead a while and rats and flies had been feasting on their flesh for days. They were grey, red, and brown from the mud.

We passed a bomb crater that had half filled with rainwater and when I peered inside, I could see dead men lying on their backs beneath the liquid. Their eyes were open and stared up at me through the murky waters. I almost retched, but when I heard a mine explode just to me right, taking some of me men with it and blowing shrapnel into me left arm and me side, I remembered my place as leader of the platoon. Nevertheless, I could not shake the feeling that this was like my first visit into No Man’s Land. I felt the old feelings of revulsion, horror, and fear, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping fear, but with the added burden that my men’s lives rested on my shoulders. Oh, how I longed to be back home, in England!

“I lead my men wildly astray and as they dropped like flies all around me I took them further away from our target and deeper into danger. We faced mortar shells, mines, a regiment of Huns and even a small platoon of those Southern Frenchmen, the ones who were siding with the Kaiser and his Germans. Still we carried on running, killing, and dying, and I lost me way and me head completely. I ran us into a thick fog, and we stumbled across a small, but empty German trench. I threw my ever shrinking platoon into the shaky sanctuary of the trench and let them pause to regain their wits. My own were shot to pieces, and they knew; I could see it in their eyes. They never once refused my orders, nor threatened me with a mutiny. They followed my orders without question, but I could see them resigning themselves to their impending deaths, as I resigned myself to mine.

“I have no memory of how long we waited in the trench, for I was too frightened to leave it, but after a while I saw someone approaching. He was alone and so I watched him walk steadily towards me through the mist. I raised my weapon with shaking hands and aimed half-heartedly. Then his voice rang out through the darkness. ‘Well, my friend, you are in a bit of a state!’ he cried out jovially. ‘But we can get you out of this if you just follow me.’ I rubbed me eyes hard and barely dared believe my ears. It was Captain Jacobs standing before me, smiling that roguish smile and his grey eyes twinkling like bright stars in the desolate land. I opened my mouth and gaped like a goldfish and he laughed. I pulled together my resolve and called my platoon to me. without a word we slipped out of the trench and into the night.

“The good captain spoke not a word to me and I followed silent as the grave. Oh Hell, I wished I’d not said that now! Quiet as a mouse, I shall say instead. Everywhere we went there was heavy fog to hide us from the enemy’s sight and we saw neither head nor tail of a single Hun on our journey through the darkness. I had no idea in which direction we were headed or where we were going, but I kept the captain in me sights and eventually we found ourselves at the edge of the mist. Captain Jacobs turned to me and looked grave for once. I opened my mouth to speak, but then he smiled and waved me onwards. I lead my lads out of the fog and we were at our trench! They laughed aloud and hurried into the safety of our temporary home. I looked to my old friend, and watched him walk out into the fog. The white mist clouded around him and he vanished from sight. Then, as quickly as it had set, the mist was gone and Captain Jacobs was nowhere to be found! I gaped once more, but then was pulled into the trench.

“There me body was examined and me wounds deemed too harsh for me to continue this in war. I’ve not seen Captain Jacobs since.”

I finished me tale, and looked around me at the other patients. They were looking at me with sceptical eyes. A few VAD nurses came in with a General Leonard and they lead me away from the doubting stares of me former fellow soldiers. As we walked I heard the General mention to the VADs: “He may have suffered only surface abrasions from that bomb, but he must have wandered into poisonous gases. I am sure you have heard his wild story of his former captain coming back to save him from death. He believes it to be true, poor soul.”

I did not care that no one believed me. Captain Jacobs did return from death to get me a one-way ticket back to Blighty and so pulled me out of a tough spot—just as he always promised.