Dusk at Cambrai - Respite (5) (1377 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Cambrai
Rating: 1.92 on 28 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Hadley Tobedone (View user info) at 2005-09-08 15:23:40 EDT
Part 1 - Abstractions: http://www.ubersite.com/m/69763
Part 2 - Das As: http://www.ubersite.com/m/69961
Part 3 - Men In a Box: http://www.ubersite.com/m/70772
Part 4 - La Mort d'un Oiseau http://www.ubersite.com/m/73280
Rowley sat on the steps, his pen and paper beside him. With all the troop movements and battles raging across France, news from home was infrequent. He was out of touch with events at home and was beginning to get homesick. Glancing around at his surroundings, he picked up his pen and began to write.
19th November, 1917
Dear Father,
The Post has been unreliable at best lately, so I hope everything is still well at home. I spent the afternoon in the infirmary, but there is no reason to worry. I was just feeling poorly after the battle today. I am much better now. For the first time in weeks, we have advanced, Father! I dare say, the way things went today, nothing can stop us now. I hope to be coming home soon.
You son,
Rowley
There was so much more that Rowley wanted to pour out onto the paper. Tales of bravery, the adrenaline and excitement would fill pages and make Father proud. Ultimately there was no way he could write it; he wasn't sure he could remember everything. His memory was still somewhat fuzzy and sometimes he saw spots. Normal effects of breathing fumes and smoke, he was told by the doctors. He wasn't so sure. When he mentioned it to Percy, his friend's response was, "If it isn't better on the morrow, we'll take you back to the infirmary. Until then, it's time to celebrate!"
With a laugh, Rowley stuffed the letter into an envelope and quickly addressed it. "We can celebrate after I get this to the Post, Percy. We can't let my father worry, can we?"
After dropping his letter into the homebound bin, Rowley and Percy ran back to the barracks to gather a group of beer-minded soldiers. Most didn't feel like driving all the way to a pub, but the duo was able to recruit two other soldiers. After receiving permission to head out, they strapped pistols onto their waists - there was a still a chance of running into German soldiers - and headed for St. Quentin.
Bumping over the pitted road, Rowley and his companions saw smoke rising over the trees. The truck slowed as they passed a burning cottage. With a glance, Percy stopped the truck and the soldiers piled out of the truck, guns drawn. Rowley sent two men around the outside of the clearing, watching for Huns or booby traps. He and Percy slowly approached the building. Moving around the far side, they came across the still-burning wreckage of a plane.
Percy poked at it with a stick. "You reckon this is your trophy, Rowley? Looks to be a Flappin' Hun." Rowley looked around the clearing, trying to imagine what had happened. "Could be, mate. Looks like it hit over here and slid right into the house."
A soldier called out from near the trees, "'Ey, Rowley, what d'ya make of this?" His gun was pointed toward the woods as Rowley approached. Rowley motioned to the soldier, "Put your gun down, George. I'll take care of this." The soldier backed away as Rowley knelt down at the edge of the trees. He looked into the tear-stained face of a young boy, a young boy shaking in the cold and coming darkness.
"Hello lad." There was no response from the boy. "Bonjour?" The only answer was a blink of the dark eyes staring back at him. Rowley dropped his hand to his chest and spoke again, "Rowley." He pointed to the boy, but got no answer. With a glance around, Rowley holstered his pistol and motioned for the other soldiers to step back a way.
"Come on out, lad. Let's get a look at you." Rowley settled onto a log and continued to watch the boy. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. "You hungry, lad? Come on out here. No one's going to hurt you." The boy reached out for the chocolate and Rowley drew it back a little. "Come on lad. This is yours if you just come on out here."
The boy slowly crawled forward, clutching a mangled bunch of flowers to his chest. Rowley pointed to his own chest again and repeated himself. "Rowley." The boy finally looked up and whispered, "Henri. Je m'appelle Henri." Rowley smiled and offered the chocolate bar. "Alright then lad. I believe this is yours. You just need to sit here and let me get a good look at you. Was this your house?"
Henri just looked over Rowley's shoulder and tore into the chocolate, eating hungrily. Rowley watched him for a moment and then stood up, moving over to Percy. "I reckon this was his home. No parents and hiding in the woods as night falls. I think we've found ourselves an orphan. Should we take him back and skip out on the pub tonight? You know we can't leave him."
Before Percy could answer, Rowley heard an engine approaching. He waved the other two soldiers into the woods and grabbed the boy. Percy followed him as they took up positions in front of the boy, crouched behind trees with guns drawn. They watched as soldiers disembarked from a car, rifles hung over their shoulders, and inspected the truck. Three other soldiers began to circle the clearing. Rowley could hear them speaking German.
One of the soldiers crouched next to the log Rowley had shared with Henri. When he stood up, he was holding a half-eaten chocolate bar. Rowley tightened his grip on his pistol as the soldier began to peer into the darkness of the forest.
*********************************************
With a sob, Harold Foster dropped the letter and sank to the floor. He had just heard from Rowley. Everything had been fine. Now, dated one week later, came the message he had feared for so long.
26th November, 1917
Dear: Sir,
It is my painful duty to inform you that a report has been received from the War Office notifying the death of:
(No.): 447225
(Rank): Sergeant
(Name): Rowley David Foster
(Regiment): 3rd London Regiment
which occurred: Securing position, Cambrai, France
on the: 19th day of November 1917.
The report is to the effect that he: died of wounds received in action.
By His Majesty's command I am to forward the enclosed message of sympathy from Their Gracious Majesties the King and Queen. I am at the same time to express the regret of the Army Council at the soldier's death in his Country's service.
I am,
Sir
Your obedient Servant,
Capt. Jacob Crawford
Officer in charge of Records
The paper fell from Harold's hands as a thought struck him. His son's life was over in twenty-five handwritten words.
User Reviews
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-04-26 15:31:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stabkill (user info) at 2005-10-10 16:16:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Retraction..
Submitted by Stabkill (user info) at 2005-10-10 16:16:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Retraction
Submitted by inbreakingnewsT.A.N. (user info) at 2005-10-06 20:17:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stabkill (user info) at 2005-10-06 19:40:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Stop using alters yourself and complaining that they are out to get you.
Submitted by Viciousriffs (user info) at 2005-09-30 16:03:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
At least filth flarn flarn & flith's ratings don't mean anything. A continued piece of excellent work, I'm curious about the finale.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-09-29 16:11:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
flarn-dorfar damage control
Submitted by FartSmeller (user info) at 2005-09-28 11:22:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by FartSmeller (user info) at 2005-09-28 11:18:57 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-09-28 11:15:15 (#)
Ranking: 0
Well done, flarn
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Hadley, look I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD he's not really my alter. Here, here's my email address: easybeinggreen.at.gmail.com. Email me and I'll explain my motives if you don't believe me, but I would take credit for my shit if I had done it.
Submitted by flarn-dorfar (user info) at 2005-09-23 16:37:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I need to catch up -2ing your posts
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-09-17 14:11:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-09-09 01:52:14 (#)
Ranking: 2
"The paper fell from Harold's hands as a thought struck him. His son's life was over in twenty-five handwritten words."
Great Line.
Submitted by QueenAshlee (user info) at 2005-09-14 17:49:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM, HADLY? WHY?
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-09-10 05:23:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-09-09 13:46:07 (#)
Ranking: 2
After Necrosiac and TME, I was gonna start a one man riot if you hadn't won.
The fact that you went back and hit all of my real stuff was just one more reason to sing your praises.
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Never would have rated it if it wan't worth while friend. This story seperates itself from so much of what is on uber, myself included, because it's a TON of story in so little space.
Submitted by williamson (user info) at 2005-09-09 19:07:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Danger Range = Auto +2
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-09-09 18:41:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 ranger
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-09-09 17:31:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
DANGER RANGER~!!!!!
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-09-09 12:01:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ArnieGeddon (user info) at 2005-09-09 09:31:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm sorry, but this is fucked..
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2005-09-09 09:26:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
*pop pop pop*
meh...
*yaaaaaaaaaaAAWWWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNNNNNNNN........*
.. not enough drama....
*poof!*
+ 24 eleventy
Submitted by Stin (user info) at 2005-09-09 05:11:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You BASTARD!
You did it! You killed him off!
One comment - I believe it was George V on the throne at the time, meaning any letter would have come from His Royal Highness (the person married to the King is not, by default, the queen). This is why you're supposed to be checking these things..... :oP
Other than that, sterling work.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-09-09 01:52:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"The paper fell from Harold's hands as a thought struck him. His son's life was over in twenty-five handwritten words."
Great Line.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-09-08 16:25:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well done. Now to go and read the first four. . .
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-09-08 16:12:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by FartSmeller (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:42:46 (#)
Ranking: 2
HE CAN'T BE DEAD! Fucking Natsees!
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WWI, not WWII. But I appreciate the sentiment.
Submitted by GodLovesALittleLovin (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:50:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
he's MIA. He's not dead. He's sipping pina colada's on the beaches of Fiji, while he's shooting bullets into the heart of Hitler.
Submitted by FartSmeller (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:42:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
HE CAN'T BE DEAD! Fucking Natsees!
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:36:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't think he's dead, crystal. There's more to this story, I can feel it.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:32:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent series
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:26:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, if only there was someway to get this to D_R - he was enjoying the series
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2005-09-08 15:25:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
BASTARD! Killing a young guy off like that! Have you no regard for the feelings of those of us following the series?
Oh well.. once again, well written... there better be more coming! (even though one of the hero's is dead...)