Murder At Zero Hour

  Chapter 13

  The Past

  By any right I should have been dead. Needless to say, I was rather surprised when I started to slowly swim back into consciousness. My head ached something terrible. I was angry that it had being used so poorly the past few days. My eyes fluttered open to take in my surroundings. A light shone brightly into my eyes. I snapped them shut again from the blazing pain. I then realized I was sitting upright and propped up against a hard chair.

  “He's coming around,” a voice said. It took me a moment to realize it was the voice of Captain Wodenhill.

  “I didn't tap him that hard in the head,” Childs answered back.

  “Hard enough,” I muttered and sat up with a groan. I wasn't tied down, but when I opened my eyes, I saw the corporal was fingering a sharp-looking bayonet. He gave me a wicked grin.

  I was in a gaudily-appointed room. The long window curtains were drawn back to reveal a wall running around a well-manicured lawn. The chair I was sitting in looked old enough for the last King of France, and the desk before me was quite overdone as well. I let out a little giggle and caught myself from laughing out loud. I certainly felt a little punch drunk from the blow to my head. The surroundings were just a little out of place for my predicament.

  “So you're still alive. Quite the pity in my opinion,” the captain said.

  I turned my attention to him and saw him smirk at my predicament. I rubbed my head and said, “I don't remember asking for your opinion. But tell me, why I am still alive? I would have thought you would have had me buried away somewhere by now.”

  “As you should be,” Childs said.

  “Quiet you,” Wodenhill snapped. “I'll do the talking around here. Don't forget that you're just a corporal.”

  Childs put his eyes down and took a step back. However, I noticed the bayonet was still at the ready.

  “Well, Lieutenant Grant, you've certainly have been a spot of trouble for us. I could see that from day one, but the colonel wouldn't listen. He never does, but I think you've figured that out by now.”

  “Figured what out?” I said dumbly. His hand lashed out and struck me on the side of the jaw. It hurt terribly, and I saw stars dance in front of my eyes. I almost slid off the chair, but I just managed to hold myself upright. I wasn't about to give him the pleasure of seeing me fall over to one of his blows.

  “Figured out that the colonel is a stubborn man,” he said without emotion as if he hadn't struck me at all. “He wants to find out what you really know. If he didn't, then Childs here would have tapped your skull a little harder and made sure you disappeared for good.”

  “Surely Lyons and Carter will want to know what happened to me,” I said. At this point they were my only hope.

  “I'm sure they would,” Wodenhill said with a sadistic smile. “In fact, they've been out all night looking for you. They even came to see me, but what information could I give them? Even I didn't know where you were until the corporal here returned and told me what you had witnessed. We may have let you live for a bit longer if it wasn’t for that.”

  I let out a bit of a laugh and said, “You’ve been doing your damn best to kill me. Who sent Reese out to make sure I was dead?”

  “We thought it best if you were taken care of before you connected the dots together. That was obviously a mistake, because we should have killed you even earlier.” Wodenhill said

  “Mistake or not, at least I'm not a traitor dealing with the Germans. You’ll certainly be shot for this.”

  His hand swung out again, but at least this time I was ready for the blow. I made it look as if it hurt worse than it really did. Not that it took too much acting on my part. My head was still reeling. But Wodenhill was a weakling who had never faced the rigors of true trench living. He was a coward too. At least those words sounded good to my ears. I really had little hope of getting out of this alive.

  The captain slowly nodded. “So it really was you out on that hill. Well, my friend, you have just signed your own death warrant.”

  “Your treason will be your own death warrant,” I raged at him. I saw Childs move towards with me with the bayonet at the ready. I had to buy some time and see if I could escape. “Before you kill me, could you at least tell me why you sold our supplies to the Germans?”

  “You must understand, my boy,” the voice of the colonel boomed out. He must have been standing in the doorway behind me. He strode past and sat at the desk, looking over me with an appraising eye. “You've been causing me plenty of trouble and I should have listened to Wodenhill here from the start. But I thought you wouldn't discover anything further about our little money-making operation.”

  “But why, Colonel?” I asked.

  He laughed and replied, “Men will do many things for money. When I was a child, I saw my father squander his fortune away. After he died, there was nothing left for me but the debt. I could barely hang on to the family home, and I had to beg with my very own relations to survive. Not what kind of life is that for a man of my background?”

  I flicked my eyes over to Childs and saw that he had taken a step back and was leaning nonchalantly against the wall. His knife had disappeared from sight too. Perhaps I could make a break for it and find a place to hide before the military police rounded me up. Smythe still had his authority, so I knew I would have a hard time convincing anyone I was innocent of whatever trumped-up charges I faced. I bought a little more time, shrugged my shoulder and said, “I wouldn't know anything of the aristocracy.”

  “Of course you wouldn't know,” Smythe said. “You Americans and your silly ideals. Let me tell you how the real world works - men take what they need and damn anyone who gets in their way. Luckily Childs here had a German father who worked the coal mines in England. Through his family, he was able to provide me with a contact high up in the German command. It took some time, but we came to an agreement that will be beneficial to both our countries.”

  “What could that possibly be?” I asked.

  This war has gone on far enough. You've seen the senseless bloodshed that has taken countless lives.”

  “I’ve seen more than I would care to recount,” I admitted.

  “And you know it is all useless. If the Germans were to win and win quickly, it would be so much better than having the men under my command die anymore.”

  “Selling weapons and uniforms to the enemy is supposed to save lives?” I asked incredulously. “It seems like a justification for murder and a chance to make your own fortune.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me and said to Wodenhill, “Give the lieutenant here a cigarette.”

  He scowled and fished out a Dunhill from a crumpled pack. He lit it and handed it over to me.

  “Thank you,” I said and drew a lungful of smoke.

  “Wodenhill here wants to have you killed,” Smythe continued on. “Personally, I think there has already been too much bloodshed. Now if you were to forget this little secret of mine and work with me, then I think you will agree this would be best for everyone involved.”

  “I still think he is a danger,” the captain said.

  I ignored him and said to Smythe, “What will the Germans do with the material you have given them?”

  “We've been battering against their defenses for a long time without any success. The plan has always been to get through their lines and break out in the open space behind. Once we got behind their lines, it would be a simple matter of attacking their defensive positions from the rear and rolling up their entire army. Now you know the Germans must be thinking the same thing.”

  “So?”

  “If they could get the element of surprise and move enough men over to our side, it would break our lines in half. A regiment of Germans wearing our uniforms and using our equipment would provide the means. They could achieve total surprise and before you know it, they would be free to roam behind our lines. We would be forced to retreat out
of France and leave it for the French. What do you think of that, my boy?”

  I leaned back and blew some smoke up into the ceiling. I saw that Childs and Wodenhill were watching me expectantly. They were hoping I would refuse so they would have an excuse to cut my throat. I finally said, “I'm not sure what to say. It seems like plenty of men on our side will die if the Germans gain the upper hand.”

  “You've seen the morale in the trenches. The English Army will scatter in front of a strong army quicker than you think.”

  I pretended to give this some thought as I looked over my captors once again. They seemed more keyed-up than expected like they were waiting for something. Perhaps they thought I had already reported my suspicions to the military police. If that was true, they would want to know if their own necks were on the line. Perhaps that was the only reason they were keeping me alive.

  Smythe said impatiently, “Look, my boy, I've been given the word that casualties will be kept to a minimum. They're sick of this war as much as we are. There just has to be someway of stopping the stalemate. Would you agree at least to that?”

  “Yes, sir,” I lied. “I've seen enough death and very little glory. I see little reason why we should fight on any more.”

  He positively beamed at me. With a friendly smile, he said, “You hard-headed Americans are always concerned with business. You are also quick to realize when you are on the losing side. It is best to cut your losses and move on to another stock. I can even give you a cut of the money being made. Would that satisfy you?”

  I nodded and snubbed out my cigarette on the ash tray. I stood up slowly and glanced at Childs to see if he was going to threaten me with that bayonet of his. “Well, if that is all, sir, I think I will get back to my company. There still is plenty of work I need to do, and I'm sure Lyons and Carter will want to know where I have been.”

  Smythe reached across the desk to shake my hand. His hand was wet with perspiration. “You're a good man,” he said. “I'll see that some type of promotion goes through for you. You've been brave and resourceful out on the front lines. Surely your hard work must be rewarded in some way.”

  “Just part of the job,” I said nonchalantly.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Wodenhill tip Childs the wink. The corporal broke out a false smile and reflexively touched his sheathed bayonet. I've fought enough bullies to know I was looking at some trouble. They were keeping me happy until they could go ahead and lower the boom. Why would they want to start some trouble here when I could easily be dealt with somewhere outside? I had no reason to trust these three as I edged towards the door.

  “I’ll have Wodenhill walk back with you,” Smythe said kindly.

  “That’s quite alright,” I said. “I know the way.”

  “Let me show you a quicker way, Lieutenant,” Wodenhill said and took me by the arm.

  I saw Childs falling in step behind us. We walked down an opulent hallway with a number of dusty paintings and dried-out plants. A small servant’s door led to the outside where I found myself on the side of the house. In the distance, I could see the wrought iron gates. They were unguarded, but hanging slightly open. When I started that way, the captain gripped my arm hard like a vise.

  “Here is a quicker way back to the village.” He pointed to an iron door set into the brick wall that surrounded the estate. “This will take us to a path that leads right to Tremont.” His voice was high as if he was suddenly nervous. It is amazing how these staff officer types can never be counted on in an emergency. Reaching out, he grabbed the door, and it creaked noisily open as if it was the entrance to a tomb. The forest pathway beyond was dark with shadow.

  There was no way I was going down that path. Childs would cut my throat at the first chance. I would never be seen alive again. My mother would never know what happened to me. I would just be another forgotten victim of this terrible war. With a twist of my arm, I broke free and began running towards the gate.

  “Stop him,” ordered Wodenhill.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw that Childs was chasing me. His face was already blotched red with anger.

  “Stop him!” the captain screamed again.

  I kept on running towards the gate. I brushed past the half-closed iron gate, but I was slowed down enough that the corporal caught up to me. He tackled me by the feet, and I felt my breath go out from me when we landed heavily on the ground. I kicked out and caught him hard in the chest. He fell backwards, but grabbed onto my left leg with one hand. I saw Childs draw out his bayonet.

  I pulled away, crawling as hard as I could. Wodenhill was there now and came over to give me a solid kick in the ribs. His Webley was out, and he nodded to his man. “Finish the job,” he ordered.

  “No!” I shouted and kicked out at Childs again. The bayonet fell from his hand and onto the muddy road. We both went for it, the blade slick with mud. He was closer to it and reached for it first. I grabbed his wrist, but a swift kick by Wodenhill caught me in the ribs again. It was a hard kick, and my side exploded with pain. I felt as if I couldn't breathe at all. Then a hard pain shot up my right leg. I screamed with what little strength I had left. Glancing down, I saw that the bastard corporal has plunged the knife deeply into my calf. The knife went up again. It struck my leg again, biting deep into my flesh. There was nothing I could do but lash out again with my free foot. The boot caught Childs full in the face. He fell back clutching his nose. The hilt of the knife was stuck in my leg. It throbbed something terrible.

  Lifting my head up at Wodenhill, I saw him grinning sickly. His Webley was pointed straight at me, but his hand was shaking.

  “Go ahead and shoot, you coward!” I yelled at him.

  “Damn you,” he croaked out. His finger was on the trigger, and it started to squeeze, but he couldn't hold the gun straight. The pistol fired. I winced as the bullet stuck in the mud near my head. The gun fired and missed yet again - he was a paper pusher, not soldier. It was then that I heard the running of feet towards us.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice called out. I turned over and to my relief, I immediately recognized Prentice. Carter was also with him. They both had their pistols drawn and looked at me with amazement. I must be quite the sight with a bayonet stuck deep into my leg and covered from head-to-foot in mud.

  “They tried to kill me,” I cried out.

  Wodenhill dropped the gun, and it fell in the mud next to me. I was going to shoot the bastard. I reached for it instinctively, but Prentice scooped it up before I had a chance.

  He waved both guns at Wodenhill and said sternly, “Shooting a fellow officer? I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” He turned his wrath on the corporal, who started to scuttle away. “And you, you imbecile, how dare you raise your hand against an officer? You’ll be lucky if you don’t see the wrong end of a firing squad.”

  “Yes, sir,” Child croaked and stood up, holding his bloody nose.

  Carter got down and started to lift me up from the road. “Are you alright, old man?” he asked.

  “Help me up,” I said through gritted teeth. I had to lean heavily on him since I could not stand on my wounded leg. My pants leg was awash with blood, and I felt sick to my stomach. Prentice reached down and without a word to me, pulled out the bayonet. The pain was electric. I felt suddenly woozy and staggered.

  “Steady on,” Carter said. “You’re going to need some stitching up before this day is through.”

  “Take him to the doctor,” Prentice said.

  I’m afraid I didn’t get that chance to see that doctor since Colonel Smythe appeared at the gate with a dozen guards with him. He looked over the scene and then said, “Lieutenant Grant is to be arrested.”

  “On what charges, sir?” Prentice asked.

  “For attacking a superior officer, of course. We still have rules in this army no matter how many times he tries to thwart them. You of all people sho
uld know that.”

  Prentice spat out, “Sir, even if Grant here did attack Wodenhill, there was no reason for Corporal Childs here to stab him. And there certainly was no reason for Wodenhill to fire his gun in such a situation.”

  “I wasn't talking about Wodenhill,” Smythe glowered. “I was talking about the personal attack on me.”

  “That's not true,” I blurted out.

  Prentice looked back at me and said, “Do you know what he is talking about?”

  “I saw Childs there meeting with some Germans up by the front lines. When I came back to Tremont, I was knocked out before I could tell anyone else. They brought me here and tried to question me. They told me I could go free, but I suspected I was going to be killed instead. So I ran for it.”

  “Clearly you can see that this man has gone insane,” Wodenhill chimed in.

  “Exactly,” Smythe added. He snapped his fingers and his guards pulled me away from Carter who just stood there dumbfounded.

  As I was being led away, Smythe said, “Be kind to Lieutenant Grant. He must have snapped from the stress of battle. See that he is well taken care of.”

  I looked pleadingly at Prentice and said, “Help me.”

  “Don't worry, Grant. If anything, I owe you my life. I'll see that justice is done.”