The Land In Between

It was the fifth year of the Great War.  There had been rumors the Americans would enter the war a couple of years ago but they stubbornly maintained their neutrality instead.  The spring and summer offensives of 1918 left us and the Germans in about the same positions we had started the year.

Our squad was getting ready to go over the top on a night patrol of No Man’s Land as part of the preparations for the first offensive of 1919.  The ground between the armies was a jumble of craters, barbed wire and swampy low land that could stop armored machines cold.  Our main task was to scout routes across to the other side.

The need for stealth meant our primary weapons were trench knives and hatchets but each man carried grenades and a pistol as well.  Darkness would hide us from German snipers but we might run into an enemy patrol.

It was just before midnight when we slipped over the trench parapet, our faces darkened with burnt cork.  Sergeant Hutton led the way into the desolate landscape.  We moved slowly and deliberately, stopping often as the sergeant marked his map and took notes.  The smell of rotting flesh was strong and the new soldiers were visibly queasy.  

It was a few hours later when we walked into the Germans.  They had about the same number of men and were probably doing the same sort of recce mission we were. 

The fighting was up close, personal and quiet.  Neither squad wanted to draw machine gun fire from the trenches which would hit friend and foe alike.  The sounds of this fight were the rustle of clothing, grunts and cries of pain as knives and hatchets found soft flesh.  No shots were fired.  No quarter was given.

There were three of us left standing when it was over – Sergeant Hutton, Private Jenkins and me.  We searched the Germans for documents then headed back to our own lines.  It felt horrible leaving our dead squaddies behind like that but there was no choice.  Jenkins was particularly shaken and distracted as we started walking.

That may be how the pack of ghouls had him on the ground before we even knew they were there.  Jenkins screamed as the ghouls tore and bit chunks of flesh from him. 

“Get into that shell crater,” Hutton yelled.  He jumped in beside me and pulled out a grenade.  A few seconds later it sailed through the air and landed next to the feeding ghouls.  The explosion ripped some of them apart but the others resumed feeding on poor Jenkins.

But the explosion also got the attention of soldiers in the trenches.  Machine gun fire from both sides swept the area.  I pressed down as low as I could in the crater as bullets buzzed overhead.  After the shooting died down Hutton peeked over the edge of the crater.  “We need to finish them off.”

Jenkins was surrounded by shredded ghouls.  Hutton and I stomped the heads of the ones still moving.  I made the mistake of looking at what was left of Jenkins.  The sight combined with the strong stench of rotting flesh was too much.  I dropped to my knees and vomited.  

I had heard the stories but this was the first time I had encountered ghouls in person.  No one knew what had caused some of the corpses in No Man’s Land to rise.  Ghoul packs had been reported all along the front.  I had heard rumors that the Germans were behind it but that didn’t make sense.  The ghouls attacked British, French, German and everyone else. 

I had seen plenty during my time on the front lines but the ghouls added a fresh horror for my nightmares.  I hoped this war would be over soon.