Episode 12: The Returned Straggler
One hour and twenty minutes later, we were able to reach the friendly lines.
Having successfully linked up with our side, we were soon surrounded by dozens of soldiers staring at us in astonishment.
And no wonder—we had appeared out of nowhere in a German truck, and had even brought German prisoners with us. It was a situation that would have surprised anyone.
“W-what on earth is going on here?”
A Major who had come out of the command tent, annoyed by the sudden commotion, looked at us and couldn’t close his mouth, as if unable to believe his eyes.
I approached him, saluted, and explained my name, rank, unit, and everything that had happened up to this point.
“…And so, that’s how we ended up here, Major.”
Even after hearing my words, the Major remained silent for a while.
A moment later, the first thing he said was this:
“…Is that the truth, Second Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Major!”
The Major seemed to find my story utterly difficult to believe.
Well, it was only natural.
If someone said he had wiped out Germans with a single tank, rescued friendly troops who had been taken prisoner, and even driven here in a captured truck, who would believe him?
Even I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw the evidence with my own eyes.
But everything I had said was the truth, and moreover, the evidence was right in front of him.
Three Opel Blitz trucks—the type used by the German military during World War II—bearing the German insignia, the Iron Cross, along with German prisoners.
What clearer evidence could there be?
“That’s correct, Major. Everything Second Lieutenant Arthur Grey said is true. My men and I can testify to it.”
The Captain who had been with me took my side as well.
The Major looked back and forth between the prisoners, the soldiers I had rescued—who were smiling with bright expressions—and the Captain and me. Then he tilted his head, at a complete loss for words.
“W-well, very well then. I’ll report to higher command and let you know what to do. In the meantime, get some rest.”
“Thank you, Major!”
However, the Major’s promise that we could rest was not kept.
The Germans were advancing near our position, so we had to relocate the encampment in a hurry.
Still, the Major told me where my unit was.
The 7th Tank Regiment, to which I belonged, had been shattered in the Battle of Arras yesterday and was retreating with its remaining forces.
Of course, it wasn’t just the 7th Tank Regiment—the entire British Expeditionary Force was retreating.
After the Battle of Arras, the tide of war was rapidly turning in the Germans’ favor.
“You can take these to the regimental HQ. Well then, good luck.”
“Thank you, Major!”
Thanks to the Major’s consideration, Adam and I were each able to ride one of two motorcycles with sidecars to the regimental HQ.
The Major said apologetically that the trucks were all needed for supplies and wounded, so he couldn’t spare any.
But we were so grateful just to be able to get to the regiment without walking that we didn’t mind in the slightest.
Besides, I’d always wanted to ride a motorcycle like this at least once. Hehe.
The road was packed with retreating military units and French civilians fleeing the fighting.
The refugee columns only grew as time went on.
Only a tiny fraction of the refugees were in cars; the vast majority were in carts or on foot.
The men pulled carts loaded with belongings, while the women walked wearily, holding their children’s hands in both of theirs.
Some women carried babies on their backs, and others had prams loaded with necessities.
The sight of the refugees soothing their crying children and hurrying their steps was nothing short of harrowing.
Thinking that our people must have looked the same during the Korean War left me feeling heavy-hearted, but I was in no position to help them; I had my own hands full just then.
That fact tasted even more bitter to me.
“Can’t see the end of it.”
“What do you mean?”
It had been a soliloquy, but I must have spoken louder than I thought.
The motorcycle rider asked me, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“That refugee column. I’m saying I can’t see the end of it.”
“It can’t be helped, can it? The Jerries are swarming in. You have to run if you want to live. What else?”
Silence fell again, or so I thought, until five minutes later the motorcycle rider threw a question at me.
“Lieutenant. Forgive me for asking, but may I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“How far are we going to retreat?”
Ah, the answer to that question was already set in stone.
The common soldiers might not know how far our forces would retreat, but I, who possessed memories of the future, knew the answer.
But was it all right to tell him now?
That thought crossed my mind, but then again, I figured, what did it matter?
My very presence here was impossible to begin with; what difference would spilling one piece of future knowledge make?
“I suppose it’ll be Dunkirk.”
“Sir? D-Dun… what did you say?”
“Dunkirk. It’s a beach in France. We’ll board ships there and return to England.”
“No, are you saying the situation is that grave?”
He seemed to find it hard to believe that we would have to leave France.
“Yes. Can’t you tell by looking at those refugees? We’ve lost. At least for now.”
“Then what happens after we return to England?”
“What do you think? We’ll regroup and come back. It’ll take time, of course. At least the current Prime Minister is the sort of man who’ll keep fighting until Hitler’s dead.”
“How do you know all that in such detail?”
Oops, I had let my mouth run too much without realizing.
It was about time I started watching what I said.
A loose tongue never did anyone any good.
“Just forget you heard it. Half of it is my delusion anyway.”
“For a delusion, you seemed awfully certain, sir.”
“That’s why I said forget it… huh?”
As I was looking up at the sky, trying to change the subject, something strange entered my field of vision.
A cluster of black dots.
At first I thought they were birds and was about to ignore them, but they seemed a bit too large to be birds.
The unidentified dots grew larger as they flew toward us.
Something felt off.
No, were birds normally that fast?
And were they supposed to glint like that?
“Enemy aircraft!”
“Sir?”
“I said enemy aircraft, f*ck! Turn right! Get off the road!”
F*cking hell, enemy planes! It’s an air raid!
We hurriedly left the road and took cover with our motorcycles.
I had wondered why the sky was so quiet on such a clear day. I should’ve known.
There was no way the German Air Force—these glory-hungry pilots—would sit idle on a day like this.
The black dots instantly transformed into Bf 109s, banking toward the ground.
Soon they poured machine-gun fire onto the scattering refugees and stragglers below.
Screams, shouts, and children’s sobs were buried beneath the sound of enemy engines and gunfire.
Those cruel bastards turned around and came back to attack again.
A handful of retreating soldiers returned anti-aircraft fire with their rifles, but it was nowhere near enough to bring down those steel birds.
The German pilots ignored the few rounds and simply continued to rain machine-gun fire.
Amid the rising clouds of dirt, droplets of blood were mixed in.
Having finished their hunt, the enemy aircraft, their frames now considerably lighter, disappeared leisurely in the direction from which they had come.
As the engine sounds gradually faded, I raised my body from where I had been crouching.
The enemy planes had already become specks smaller than grains of dust.
“Hey, you all right?”
“Yes, I think I’m fine, Lieutenant.”
Fortunately, the motorcycle rider was unharmed.
What about Adam, who had been following behind?
“Adam! You alive?”
“Yes, sir!”
Fortunately, Adam was alive too. So was his rider.
Thanks to changing direction in time, we had escaped the enemy aircraft’s attack unscathed.
But the refugees and soldiers who had filled the road were not so lucky.
A single air raid had devastated the refugee column.
The road was overflowing with people shot dead, people who would soon draw their last breath, and survivors who had lost family and comrades.
Screams mixed with despair, shrieks, and weak sobs continued unabated.
Right before my eyes, I could see a woman sobbing as she clutched a blood-soaked pram.
I didn’t have the courage to keep watching that sight.
I spoke quietly to the motorcycle rider, who was staring blankly at the scene.
“Let’s go. There’s nothing we can do for them anyway.”
“…Understood, Lieutenant.”
For now, I simply had to keep moving forward.
***
After another thirty minutes of riding, we arrived at the regimental HQ.
The two motorcycle riders who had driven Adam and me to the regiment turned and headed back to their own unit the moment we got out of the sidecars.
Those bastards could’ve at least said thanks before leaving.
Anyway, now that we had reached the regiment, I had to hurry and report my survival and return.
I grabbed a passing soldier and asked where the 1st Battalion headquarters was.
The soldier, who looked old for a Private First Class, answered my question with a listless, annoyed air.
“The 1st Battalion? Try over there.”
An officer who placed great importance on discipline would have been furious at a Private First Class’s rude attitude, but I didn’t pay it much mind.
I had only one thought: to return to my unit as quickly as possible.
“Thanks. Adam, you heard him? Let’s go.”
The 1st Battalion was in the middle of preparing to withdraw.
They had never intended to stay here long, so it was nothing unusual.
Anyway, I learned from a Sergeant where the 1st Company was located.
Heading to the spot he’d indicated, I saw familiar faces. I couldn’t remember their names, but they were unmistakably men of the 1st Company.
Just then, I also spotted Staff Sergeant Gates giving orders in a corner.
Overjoyed, I ran straight up to him.
“Staff Sergeant Gates!”
He turned his head at the sound of his name, and his eyes met mine. He looked utterly shocked.
“Lieutenant? No, how are you here…?”
“I got separated during the fighting. I just made it back. Where is the Company Commander?”
“The Company Commander isn’t here.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“He was killed in action. These men here are all that remain of the 1st Company.”
Staff Sergeant Gates’s words were shocking.
The soldiers of the 1st Company before me now didn’t even number ten in total.
I couldn’t hide my horror at a number far below what I had imagined.
I had known we would be defeated and had braced myself to some extent, but I hadn’t realized it would be this devastating.
“No, that can’t be… Then who is commanding the company?”
“I have been, up until now. But from here on, you’ll have to take over. You’re the company’s only remaining officer.”
“Heh, what kind of nonsense is this…”
Having returned to the regiment only to be handed the massive bombshell of temporary company command, I couldn’t keep the blood from draining from my face.
Just as Staff Sergeant Gates and the remaining soldiers couldn’t hide their grimacing faces.
Hey, it’s not like I want to do this because I enjoy it!