Why?

Der Sturm
Hans Baluschek (PD)

"Why aren't the machine guns firing?" Louis yelled at the Baron as he scrambled to get the mud out of his rifle's firing mechanism. He heard the Baron shout back ...

"Beats me! Maybe they're not set up yet!"

As Louis was finally able to work his bolt, he peered out over the trench lip. There were a lot of Boche out there. As he watched, he heard the machine guns start up, finally.

Wolfgang watched in horror as his best mate, Friedrich, pitched forward and fell into the mud. He knelt beside him and started to roll his friend over when a passing sergeant bellowed at him, "Leave him, he's dead!"

Looking down at his friend, Wolfgang could now see where two or three rounds had penetrated his friend's body, ripping the back of his greatcoat open. Reluctantly he stumbled to his feet and forced himself to advance into the maelstrom, the air was alive with enemy bullets.

Just ahead he saw that some of his comrades had reached the old front line trench they had unceremoniously been thrown out of earlier. One man was wielding his rifle like a club, which made no sense to Wolfgang. Was the man out of bullets?

Wolfgang was ready to use his bayonet, or so he thought. When he got up to the trench, a Frenchman stabbed upwards at him. Just like in training, he parried the man's thrust, then stabbed down with his own bayonet, driving it into the Frenchman's chest, where it stuck.

He was frantically trying to yank the blade out when he saw another Frenchman lower his rifle and aim it. At him!

"Armand! Look out!" Louis yelled as he saw Armand aiming at a German standing on the lip of the trench, trying to free his bayonet. Armand never saw the man who jumped into the trench and hacked at him with an entrenching tool.

Armand fell to the muddy floor of the trench, his left arm nearly severed at the elbow. The German turned with a wild look as Louis started to panic. The Baron shoved him aside and Louis saw the Baron's bayonet jab into the German's belly, be pulled out, then jabbed in again. The German folded over the muzzle of the Baron's rifle then slid to the floor of the trench, his blood staining the mud.

Louis looked up, the man with the stuck bayonet was gone, his rifle still there, the bayonet lodged in the dead Frenchman.

"Louis, use your damned rifle or we're both going to die!" the Baron screamed at him.

Wolfgang stumbled back from the trench, leaving his weapon, he was looking for another one when he saw his lieutenant stop to aim his pistol, then be hit by French machine gun fire, dropping the man like a discarded doll.

There, a rifle! Picking it up, he checked that it worked, it was still loaded but the safety was on. Flicking the safety off he turned towards the French, there! A man was climbing out of the trench, his back to Wolfgang, so Wolfgang aimed and fired.

The Frenchman dropped his rifle then reached behind him, as if to pluck Wolfgang's bullet from his lower back. He dropped to one knee then turned to face his attacker. The look on his face was one of shock and surprise. Then he fell forward into the muck.

Louis worked his bolt and fired another round, when he went to reload, he realized that the magazine was empty. Scrabbling for his ammunition pouches, he extracted a handful of bullets and laboriously began loading them into his rifle. With a tubular magazine, his Lebel held more rounds than the German K98, but it was slow to load them in.

Once loaded with eight rounds, he'd had to grab another as he'd dropped one round into the mud at his feet, he looked for a target. Then he heard the whistles start blowing, what now?

The Baron ran down the trench, gathering what was left of the platoon. "Come on, lads, there's too many of them and our supports are nowhere to be seen."

"So we're just abandoning what we captured?" one of the men argued.

"Well, Jean, you're welcome to stay and defend your piece, but you'll be dead in minutes. Fall back or die, your choice."

Grabbing Louis by the collar, the Baron forced him up and out of the trench. "Run like your life depended on it, boy!"

Regaining the relative safety of their old line, Louis turned to his sergeant, "Why? Just what was the point of all that?"

The Baron took his time answering, "Well, I'm no strategist, but if we don't try and do something, the war will go on forever. We'll be here teaching the next generation how to dig trenches and mount patrols. But yes, today was a colossal screw up. The unit that was supposed to follow us in then continue attacking apparently never got the word. Or they were sent to the wrong place or ... I just don't know, Louis. Someone messed up and we were left in the lurch. But we did hurt the Boche pretty bad. We left a lot of dead Boche in that trench."

Louis shook his head, "Seems we left a lot of dead comrades there as well. Did the Lieutenant make it back?"

The Baron shook his head, "He's missing, probably still in that shell hole he went down in."

"Are we going to go out and bring him back?" Louis thought it made sense.

The Baron stared at Louis for a moment, then answered, "No. Certainly not. If he's alive, which I doubt, he'll be dead before midnight. That's if he was hit. If not, Lord knows what will be his fate. They'll probably never find his body. My wager is that he's already dead. God rest his soul." The Baron crossed himself as he said that.

That shocked Louis, he hadn't seen the Baron as a particularly religious man. So he asked him, "Do you believe?"

"Sometimes. Mostly I try not to think of how God could let us do this to each other. Doesn't seem right, does it?"

Louis wondered what his old village priest might say to that. If he made it home, he'd ask the man.

Then he felt a chill, he'd just thought "if" he made it home, not "when."

After today, Louis didn't know what to think, but he wasn't sure just how much more of this he could take.

He'd been on the line for ten days.

Thanksgiving for Family Time

 Well....Campers welcome to December. Day before Yesterday, AKA November 29th the temperature down here in Texas was a balmy 80 degrees.  Sunday morning, when we left for Church, the temperature was a balmy 42 with a wind chill in the low 30s.  So much for November

Ahhhh, Texas!  If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes it'll change.  So,  I've now got a fire in the fireplace, a wool shirt and sweatshirt on.  Gotta like it.

As most of you are aware, in December the days get shorter.  In our case, not only are the days getting shorter, they're getting fewer in number.  We'll be moving out of our current house on December 15th and closing on it on the 18th.   So....Lots of balls in the air.

However,  we did manage to get the whole family together over the Thanksgiving holiday.  We went over to MBD and family's house in College Station on Tuesday.  Little Juvat, LJW and LJD flew into Houston from London on Tuesday also,  They then rented a car and drove up to College Station.  

Then promptly took a nap! 

Prepping for Thanksgiving dinner started Wednesday and continued til noon on Thursday at which time dining commenced. 

Lots of chowing down and story telling so, all in all, a great holiday.  Leftovers were consumed on Friday and also were quite delicious.  

MBD kept track of the recipes, cooking time and temperatures and all the other minutea required of a successful Thanksgiving Dinner.  Most Excellent it was.

RTB to the 'Burg was on Saturday.  As expected, US 290 between Austin and Houston was bumper to bumper both directions.  

 

In the photo above, the only reason there's a bit of space is the guy in front of us pulled out to make a left turn.  I think he may still be there waiting for an opportunity to complete his left turn.  Once we got to the Y in Austin, things got much better and we made it safely home. 

Little J and gang went back to Jolly Old on Sunday.  Our hosts, MBD and gang, are probably engaging in Naptime as this is being written.

Unfortunately, all wasn't joy and laughing.  Little J, and LJW endured a bit of sadness as their second daughter was born prematurely and didn't survive.  The Family and a few friends had a quiet interrment cerimony.  She's interred right behind her sister's shoulder.  

Happens to all of us. Just wish it hadn't happened so soon.

Peace out y'all! 

The Thanks That Keeps On Giving.

Source

We had a tragedy in this household on Thanksgiving. Probably one of the worst things that could happen to a couple that had just served Thanksgiving dinner for a large family.  But before I share exactly what happened, you need some of the backstory on how we got to that point. 

Back in the late '50s my grandfather, shown above, was stationed here in San Diego for his last tour of duty.  He moved here from Cherry Point with his wife and four of his seven kids, one of them being my mother.  My mom's oldest sister (a half sister and half brother were grown and married) had married a Marine there and also wound up being stationed here in the late 60s for his last tour of duty. Three of the four sisters had all had sizeable families, so I grew up around a lot of cousins, and we are a close-knit family.  The eldest sister started a tradition of hosting Thanksgiving, and I remember more Thanksgivings at her house than I do in Oregon where we moved after my own father retired from the Navy.  It was such a tradition that we would pack up our family of six and drive the length of California just to see the family and enjoy that Thanksgiving dinner. Those memories are very fond ones and that tradition is something we all cherish, so much so that we continue to have the family get together.  My aunt passed away last year, but we had long ago started moving that dinner around to various other family members.  Her eldest daughter hosted for several years, then our oldest cousin from my mom's half brother (14 years her senior), and so on. For at least 10 years it was one of the oldest cousins from each family that picked up the mantle.  My older sister lives here too, but she's somewhat of a hermit and her townhome is far too small for the family, so me and my wife started hosting.  Our home is not very large, but we have a sunroom that serves us well, fitting our expandable table to 14 seats, and a folding table or two fits the rest of us. It's a potluck affair, with a what to bring list sent out.  

The list is quickly filled with takers for soda, ice, pie, rolls, since they don't want to cook anything. A few do step up either because they like to cook, or a sense of duty and responsibility to the rest of the family, seeing how several people sign up for just a single item, leaving the actual food to others. My elderly Aunts, the ones on either side of my mother in the birth order, shouldn't have to do anything, but they want to.  I had to help one of them put their mashed potatoes in the over the range microwave to reheat them.  She's lost some height in her advanced age, and she was struggling lifting the big container.  I realized that I need to publicly give them a pass next year, and attempt to lay some guilt on the younger people in the family.  We have too many grown children and grandchildren who need to step up and stop expecting their parents to do it all.  

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My Aunt was not only struggling, but I could see she was in some pain trying to lift the large container above her shoulders, so I'm glad I was there to take over for her.  I made a mental note to have a talk with her and let her know it's perfectly fine to let the younger generation step up.  She lives with my other Aunt who has dementia, and has become her caretaker.  Before dinner she asked if my mother was coming.  She had forgotten that my mom has been gone for over 20 years.  So it's a sad situation.  They seemed to have a good time nevertheless, and enjoyed seeing all of the family members, but one of them closed her eyes after dinner while sitting on the couch, clearly tired out after the festivities.

The dinner went fine and while I was worried that two turkeys might not be enough for the 20 people expected, there were plenty of leftovers. I brought out the clamshell to-go containers and it seemed to be one of those loaves and fishes things, as there were still plenty of leftovers even after their containers were full.  I really enjoy leftovers, and am happy bringing turkey and fixings to work for lunch on Monday*, which is at least a day or two past when my wife has grown sick of them.  That's okay, more for me! 

It was during dessert though that tragedy struck. We had several pies, Pumpkin, Apple, Apple Crumb, and even a Lemon Meringue.  While one of my Aunts got up to get some pumpkin pie the other one did not.  I wanted Apple, and I knew my other aunt liked it too so I thought I would surprise her with a heated slice with a scoop of ice cream.  Unfortunately, and you may have guessed what the tragedy was, I discovered that my aunt would no longer be having warm apple pie on Thanksgiving.  Yes, tragically there was a death.  

via GIPHY

No, not my Aunt, my microwave had died!  No heating up of pie! No warming my coffee in the morning! No reheating leftovers in the tried and true tradition that is my post Thanksgiving weekend. 

It was the second loss we've had in a week.  After a power-outage a week or so ago, our stand-up freezer in our garage wasn't as cold as it should be and only parts of the freezer were keeping things frozen.  Our turkey was in there and had started to thaw.  I quickly ordered another and had it delivered two days later.  The turkey was moved into the fridge, but unfortunately much of the rest out there had to be tossed.  While the new freezer was here in two days, the new microwave won't be here until Dec 2nd, probably due to the Black Friday sales.  I could pick it up, but installing it over our range is a little beyond my home-repair comfort level.  

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Fortunately, all is not lost.  There's always the muffin-tin creation above, probably turkey pot pie for dinner Friday night, and I'll go with a cold sandwich in a pinch.  

But despite some lazy cousins, who I love most of the time, the failing appliances, and the idea (shudder) of some cold leftovers, it was a great holiday.  Thanksgiving is my favorite one of all, for all the things I've described above- the food, the family, and the leftovers.  Oh, that's also food.  Did I mention the leftovers?  I also like the finality of it- one day and it's over.   So now it's time to shift to Christmas.  I've already put up the lights so I'm actually ahead of the game.  

Anyway, time to go see what's in the fridge.

*Four days is my limit for refrigerated remains, unless they're frozen.

In the Enemy Trenches

Tranchée allemande de première ligne
François Flameng
Source

Louis awakened to a hand gripping his shoulder and shaking him.

"Stay awake, lad. Far too easy to slip off and die in this cold."

The Baron's teeth were chattering, he too was as cold as he'd ever been. Louis had a thought, "Why not just slip away? Can death be any worse than this, freezing in the mud of no-man's-land?"

"Something is going on, lad. Can you hear it?"

"I can't hear anything." Louis moaned as he rolled onto his belly.

"That's just it, no machine gun fire, no artillery firing, it's almost as if the war is over. Maybe we're dead and we just don't know it." The Baron's face was turned to the German lines, he was fully alert now.

"If we're dead than we must surely be in Hell." Louis moaned.

The major turned to his men, "Come on boys, keep moving. The first wave has seized a section of Boche trench and we need to reinforce them before the Germans counterattack. Move carefully but quickly!"

The infantrymen carefully picked their way through the debris and detritus of no-man's-land. One of them, a senior corporal, spotted something in a nearby shell hole, "Sir! Two of our boys over here, I think they're alive."

The man nearly jumped out of his skin when one of the bodies he'd spotted rolled towards him and said, "Of course we're still alive, is the war over?"

"Can you still fight?" The major asked the Baron, who was covered in mud and was shaking with the cold.

"Just give us a minute to stretch, we've been lying in the muck since this morning. We're stiff with cold."

The major nodded and shouted over to a sergeant, "Give these men some brandy, Sergeant Loiseul, then follow us forward as fast as you can."

"Yes Sir!"

The Baron and Louis climbed out of the shell hole and each took the proffered flask. The Baron took a long pull, wiped his mouth with the muddy sleeve of his greatcoat, then handed the flask to Louis. The younger man took a swig, then coughed.

"Damn, what is that?"

"Sorry it's not up to your standards, boy. But that's the best eau de vie we can produce with nothing but what we can find on the local farms. I think we made that with crab apples."

Louis coughed again as he returned the flask to its owner. He could already feel the warmth spreading through him. The taste was nasty, but it seemed to do the trick.

"You ready?" The Baron looked with concern at Louis.

"What are you, his mother?" Sergeant Loiseul growled.

"It's his first time, give him a break." The Baron snapped.

Loiseul shook his head, then snapped, "Follow me, or go home, I don't care."

Louis couldn't believe the number of dead leading to the German trenches. He didn't see anyone he recognized, most of the dead looked crumpled up and sad. Nothing like the paintings always showed. It was obvious that some of these men had died in agony. Others had died as they fell. Bundles of rags and torn flesh that used to be human.

When he climbed into the German trench it was worse. Now he was seeing the enemy for the first time. Though their uniforms were different, their look as they lay where they fell was no different than the dead Frenchmen he'd seen in no-man's-land.

The Baron called to him, "Help us knock down this parados, we also need to build up a firing step. Damn trench is facing the wrong way!"

Source

Louis had no idea what the Baron was talking about, but it seemed to involve knocking down the back lip of the trench and shifting what they could to the side that faced their old lines. Later he learned that the "parados" was there so that when they were on the firing step, their heads weren't silhouetted by the sky behind them, only more dirt and sandbags.

He jumped in to help with a will, many of the sergeants were nervous about the Boche coming back. He asked the Baron about that.

"The Germans always counterattack as fast as they can. They know it will take time to consolidate our gains, so they want to hit us before we can do that. It's one of the things that make those bastards so dangerous."

Louis went back to work, he noticed that most of the mud which had clung to him was now dry and falling away as he wielded a shovel. He also noticed that the rain had stopped, apparently it had stopped some time ago, he just hadn't noticed.

Then he heard a shout from down the line, "Here they come!"

He grabbed his rifle, mimicking the actions of the more experienced soldiers around him. Oddly enough he wasn't scared, he was irked that the Boche were interrupting his work on the trench.

Odd that.

A Long Day in No-Man's-Land

First World War: Scene of the Battle of La Craonne on 5/04/1917
Francois Flameng
Source

Louis started to lift his head then thought better of it, the air was alive with bits of metal seeking human flesh. There was a shell hole nearby and he wondered if he could make it there without being hit. He rolled in the mud, it was thick, almost a solid and it slowed his progress. As he got close, two hands reached out and pulled him in.

"Not safe out there, lad." It was the Baron who'd pulled him in.

Louis looked around, the shell hole was deep, filled with water to just below his feet. There were "things" in the water, things he didn't want to know. Things he knew had once been human, as alive as he still was. He wondered how long that state would last.

"Where is everybody?" Louis couldn't see any other men from his unit, were he and his sergeant the last ones left?

"Oh, they're around, somewhere. Whether they're still alive is another question. I saw the Lieutenant dive to the ground when the machine guns started, don't know if he was hit or not. I know at least two of our guys were killed outright. This attack was a stupid idea."

"How do you know they were killed?"

"Shot in the head, kills you every time, lad."

Louis shook his head, then curled into a ball and started to cry.

The Baron, whose real name was Henri de Neuville, looked at the young man with sympathy. There was nothing which could prepare a man for this sort of combat. Spending long hours huddled in a muddy trench, wondering when the artillery would come. Then periodically rushing forward into the chattering machine guns across the way when the high command decided that an attack was necessary.

The Baron's family had been serving France for a long time. His great-grandfather had marched with Napoléon into Russia, he had not marched out. His grandfather had fought against the Prussians in 1870. His father, serving as a magistrate, had not been required to wear the uniform of France.

The family was not of the nobility, minor or otherwise, so his nickname was ironic. His mother, still a staunch republican, would spit fury had she heard him referred to as "the Baron." She blamed Bonaparte for all of France's problems, though the man had been dead for many years.

A scream brought him out of his revery.

"I think it's the Lieutenant." Louis said, pointing towards the enemy lines, trying to wipe the tears from his face.

The Baron nodded, then called out, "Lieutenant! Are you hit?"

The voice answered, "No, but I'm with Pierre and Marcel, they are both wounded and we're pinned down. If we move the damned Boche start shooting."

"Sit tight, Sir, we'll have to wait for nightfall."

"If we do that," the man yelled back, "Pierre might not make it, he's badly wounded."

The Baron shook his head, "If we try and move, none of us will make it. Sit tight, Lieutenant, it's all we can do."

"How long until nightfall, Sergeant?"

The Baron looked at Louis, "A long time, lad. But there's nothing for it, if we leave this hole, the Boche will shoot at us, if the Lieutenant and those boys leave their hole, well, they'll be shot at. Best we can hope for is a follow up attack by our lads or night."

"Do you think our guys will attack again?"

"It's possible, depends on why we attacked."

"Don't we attack to try and punch through their line?"

"Not necessarily, sometimes we attack here to get their attention while the main attack goes in somewhere else. Sometimes we attack because the politicians back in Paris clamor for 'something to be done' and the generals attack to make the politicians happy. It's a vicious cycle lad, and we're caught up in the middle of it."

Louis nodded, he was starting to feel the cold. His greatcoat was coated with mud, as were his trousers, his boots looked as if they were made of mud. He felt cold to the bone.

"Are we going to die here, Sergeant?"

"Not if I can help it lad, not if I can help it."

Happy Thanksgiving!

Freedom From Want
Norman Rockwell
Source

I have liked this painting for a very long time. The lady putting the turkey on the table reminds me of my paternal grandmother, she dressed very much like this. My grandfather often wore a suit but I don't remember him wearing one for Thanksgiving. He might have though.

No matter where you are this day, I hope you can spend it with people you love. Whether friends or family, those we love make these holidays precious.

Though I can't be with all the people I love this day (that would require a rather large venue), rest assured, I'll be thinking of you today. You know who you are.

Peace and blessings this day.

Love you all.

Long Day in the Saddle

OAFS Photo

The holiday season is upon us and it's off to Maryland to spend time with family. As you can see in the opening photo, fall is well into "almost winter" and the number of leaves in this neighborhood is impressive. Especially when you consider that when I was here four weeks ago, there were almost that many leaves on the ground which the yard crew cleaned up and hauled away.

A lot of trees here, which is one of the reasons I love it, I'm a forest kind of guy. Grew up playing in the woods and have always had a need to have trees nearby.

The drive down on Monday was semi-uneventful. No crazy people exhibiting minimal driving skills close aboard, they stayed a reasonable distance from my vehicle and glad I was of it.

Traffic wasn't bad until we hit Baltimore, twenty minute delay by the harbor tunnel but, oh well, I opted to go that way rather than down the Delmarva Peninsula of Maryland. (Think that part of Maryland east of the Chesapeake.) It's a pleasant drive but as night approached I had no real desire to challenge a deer to space on the road. Been there, done that, wasn't pretty.

Anyhoo ...

Google Maps knows two or three ways to get there from the Delaware side of the Delaware Memorial Bridge, one of which sucks really bad, one of which is simply a pain in the butt, the third, my preferred, was not among the options offered when we hit Delaware.

I don't like exploring when the mission is to go from Point A to Point B and I couldn't remember which exit led to my preferred route, the one offered elicited a "Ah, Hell No!" from me when it came up on the screen. So I stuck to I-95 down to I-895, I'm familiar with that area.

Well, bad choice as traffic was horrendous due to the inability of people to understand two simple words: "yield" and "merge." To many Americans "lane closed ahead" means stay in that lane until the last minute then cut in. Saw a lot of that on the multiple on ramps leading to the harbor tunnel.

Oh well ...

While sitting in traffic The Missus Herself pointed out a deer grazing perhaps 10 yards from the highway. The deer was watching the traffic with a look on her face that seemed to say, "what a bunch of idiots." Which wasn't far from the truth.

So we're here at our home away from home for a bit, don't expect much fiction while we're here. If it happens, it happens. Otherwise ...

Y'all get what you pay for.

Heh.