Feb MGWAT

[Ozzie]

It was suggested in December, can we go with Rats??????

It is somewhat of a different nature to that we have had before.

Cheers

Kim

[squirrel]

We have to now as several contributors are "psyched up" for it I understand.

[squirrel]

RATS

As Medical Officers go, he was a good 'un.

Always tended the wounded with the greatest care and made sure his orderlies did likewise. Not averse to going over the top with the stretcher bearers to treat and bring in wounded himself on occasion either.

And he didn’t mind sorting out any minor complaints like aches and pains, cuts and bruises, twisted ankles and the like. Did'nt resort to the "No 9 Pill" for all purposes like some of the Regular MO’s did.

But in rest billets he was a complete nuisance as he seemed to be on a loose end after Sick Parade each day. So, the CO thought it would be a good idea, if we had finished our drill, training or the odd route march for the day, for the MO to give us a lecture in the afternoon. And Oh! How he took the request to heart!

Now, we'd had his carefully prepared talks on lice, latrines, drinking water, personal hygiene, looking after your feet, how to apply Field Dressings to your mates or yourself, keeping yourself warm and dry (some chance!). His talk about eating fresh fruit and vegetables at every conceivable opportunity went well until somebody asked where we supposed to get them from!

But, he persevered and it was generally agreed that he gave these lectures because he had a genuine concern for our welfare both in and out of the trenches.

We’d rather have been playing football though!

So, when we were next in a rest area, in some very comfortable huts for a change, he called us all in to the mess hut for a lecture on Rats.

Now, to be honest, we'd all seen rats by the thousand in the trenches and most of us had seen them before we joined up as well. Those who hadn't soon got used to them.

But, had this man studied Rats! Good Lord! He knew everything there was to know about them and set to work to make sure that we did too!

Apparently, our unwelcome guests were Rattus norwegicus, not to be confused with the smaller and more nimble Rattus rattus which the Romans had brought over at some time before Julius Caesar turned up. It was the Black Rat, or more correctly, the fleas carried on same that had spread the Black Death in the Middle Ages................

Rattus norwegicus or the Brown Rat, came to the fore after being imported inadvertently in the late 17th or early 18th century, allegedly from Norway.

“Can’t trust these foreigners”, confided the man next to me.

Being larger and more aggressive than the Black Rat………blah, blah…………… and being able to reproduce more quickly………blah, blah……it soon became the dominant Rat in Europe…………blah, blah, blah……spreads diseases………blah, blah, blah……………….causes damage by gnawing……..blah, blah

By the time he had got this far we were all bored senseless, but he had a trick up his sleeve to make us take notice. He produced a cage with about a dozen Rats in it from under the table and told us to pass it around and have a good look.

This was greeted with hoots of laughter and shouts of, "On my head son!"

"I recognise that one! It was at Loos last year" and the MO looked crestfallen.

Now, quite who did what we will never know but about halfway 'round the hut the cage shot up in the air and the dozen or so Rats scarpered about in all directions.

Immediately, everyone was up and chasing the Rats, kicking at them, chucking their boots at them and all sorts and it ended up in quite a free for all which spilled outside the hut.

With all the laughing and shouting going on it soon attracted the attention of the Orderly Officer who proceeded to call us to attention and marched us back in to the hut. He strutted to the front of the hut, started to give us a dressing down in no uncertain terms and told us to think ourselves lucky that we were not up on a charge for disorderly behaviour.

He was about a couple of minutes in to his rant when the blokes at the front started sniggering, then laughing and finally the whole hut was convulsed in laughter.

There was a Rat on each side of the table behind him, sitting up on its back legs and watching him attentively.

He was a good sort and saw the funny side as he turned to see what some of the lads were pointing at. He shouted, "Bas*ards" and left laughing like the rest of us.

The MO was distraught about the chaos but we told him not to worry as we hadn’t seen anything so funny or had such a laugh in ages.

The CO must have had a word because we had more lectures from him on all sorts on every conceivable occasion. Apparently he thought that the lecture on Rats had given moral a boost. But, the MO must have got just a little tired of being asked where his cage of Rats was!

It left its mark in our minds too and for weeks afterwards when one of us saw a Rat

he would enquire of the others if it was Rattus norwegicus or Rattus rattus before chucking something at it or taking a swipe and asking, "Who's got the cage boys?"

© Tony Nutkins February 2009

[Guest]

Rats.

Jack stumbled along the rough uneven boards that were covered in slime. His eyes felt sandblasted from the lack of sleep, and his feet, well, he did not want to see his feet. It was enough that when he took his boots off in the dugout, the sickly sweet smell of rot that arose from his socked feet, turned his stomach.

The shadows played along the walls of the trench, moving in absurd patterns cast by the flickering kerosene lamps. He paused for a moment, his eyes resting on a soldier hunched against the wall, waiting for the stretcher bearers. The sickly yellow light of the lamps could not disguise the whiteness of the soldier’s face, nor could it hide the obscene wound that had flayed his stomach open.

His hand trembling, Jack reached forward to straighten the man’s hat. Just as his finger’s brushed the rabbit fur of the hat, Jack’s mind wondered why would he do such a thing. Here was a soldier, near to death, and here was he, Jack, straightening his hat? He shook his head, trying to clear the cloudiness from his mind. He looked down at the wound, noting that the blood had dried and turned black, yellow fluid leaking from it; too late for a field dressing.

Jack’s eyes travelled upwards, to the soldier’s chest. He thought he could see the faintest rise and fall of the man’s chest, irregular, but he was breathing; he was alive.

Jack reached both his arms behind the soldier and dragged him forward.

She felt the body move, it was a threat. She chirped a warning to her brood, and understanding immediately, they swarmed towards her.

A scream of primeval fear rose from deep in Jack’s body, exploding out of his widely stretched lips as a huge brown rat, its coarse brown fur coated with pus and dried blood, broke out from under the soldier’s shirt. His eyes widened until they were round orbs of white, staring in horror as other smaller rats followed, and took refuge in the cracks of the sandbagged wall of the trenches. Pushing himself backwards away from the body, he crawled on his hands and knees through the sludge of the trench floor, his screams now the whimpering of a wounded animal.

Her long whiskers twitched as she sniffed the night air, feeling for vibrations of movement from the humans. Nothing now; the threat had gone. Taking time to groom, her fore paws raking through the dried blood that matted her fur, she chirped to her young, encouraging them from their safe haven in the walls of the trench.

A scent on the soft night breeze caused her to be still, her nose exploring the threat. Her eyes were drawn to a shape, dark and stealthy, as it sidled along the floor of the trench.

The sounds from her throat warned her offspring back into hiding, as she sprang upon the threat to her brood’s nourishment. Teeth flashing and claws raking, she fought the larger male rat, staking her claim to the soldier who fed her brood.

The interloper seen off, she called again to her offspring to resume their feeding.

[Guest]

Squirrel, love your take on the subject. I could see the uproar and hear the laughter.

Cheers

Kim

[squirrel]

Thanks Kim, yours is a different angle on the theme as well - chilling.

[alex falbo]

So is it official that Rats are this months motif?

If so I have an interesting idea..

[Gunboat]

Hmmmmm methinks Squirrel and Kim may have been swotting in advance of this test

Both unusual takes on the subject.

Squirrel I had a smile on my face from beginning to end

Kim.....that is Room 101 stuff *shudder*

I might try a poem this month

[salesie]

The Rat and the Deserter (Not for polling)

“What are you doing, Corporal?”

“Sir?”

“I’m your new Company Commander, Corporal, and I asked what are you doing?”

“I er, I don’t understand, Sir.”

“You don’t understand. Well it’s quite a simple question, Corporal – I decide to arrive in the company line unannounced, want to see what I’ve inherited without any fanfares. And within a short distance, I find you in a sap, all alone except for a damn dog. Whilst, judging by those smells and the sound of laughter not too far away, your comrades are enjoying a meal. So, I’ll ask you for the last time, Corporal, what are you doing here, and why is that mongrel in the company lines?”

“Oh, Fuchsl’s not a mongrel, Sir. He’s a soldier, as good as any in the army, Sir.”

“A soldier, Corporal? Are you trying to make fun of me?"

“No, Sir, never, Sir.”

“Alright, Corporal, I’ll try another tack. What’s your job in my new company?”

“I’m a despatch runner, Sir.”

“Do you normally spend time apart from your comrades when in the line?”

“Mostly, Sir, I prefer my own company, and Fuchsl’s.”

“Right, Corporal, we’ve established that you’re not a dog handler; not that the army would employ a white terrier, not tall enough to reach my knee. So who gave you permission to keep a pet, especially in the line?”

“He’s not a pet either, Sir. He’s a deserter.”

“Talk fast, Corporal, my patience is wearing thin.”

“Yes, Sir. You see, Sir, when we were in action in another part of the line a couple of weeks ago, and I was running with an important despatch, I dodged into sap to avoid a shell and a rat came running full pelt over the top of the trench, from no-man’s land, quickly followed by a white blur. The white blur was Fuchsl, Sir, and he was on the rat in a flash, broke its back in his mouth, dropped it to the ground and then stood looking up at me as proud as anything. And he’s followed me everywhere, ever since, Sir.”

“Well, Corporal, it seems your little friend has at least seen some action, but why call him a deserter?”

“The enemy lines were close by, and he was wearing an enemy tag on his collar, Sir. Of course, I threw that away, Sir, and named him Fuchsl, little fox.”

“So you adopted each other, Corporal. But is he as good a soldier as you say he is, is he worth his rations?”

“He shares my rations, Sir, but just you watch this – when I throw this scrap of food to the bottom of the trench, just you watch him go, Sir!”

-

“Good grief, Corporal, he’s killed three rats in as many seconds. You’re right; he’s a marvel. He is a good soldier – those rats are as big an enemy as those b*stards over there are.”

“Yes, Sir! I call him my storm trooper – I like the way he waits until the rats appear, as if he knows the food will bring them out, but even then he doesn’t go for them until I say so, Sir. It’s a pity we can’t form an army of storm troopers just like Fuchsl, Sir?”

“I’ll make sure he’s put on the company strength, Corporal, so you can draw rations for him in his own right. Carry on, Corporal, I’m impressed.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.”

“Oh by the way, Corporal, I forgot to ask your name – who do I call for when I need a despatch running, I can hardly shout Dog-Man, can I now?

“No, Sir. My name’s Hitler, Sir – Adolf Hitler.”

© John Sales 2009

[Gunboat]

Excellent John!

I wrote a similar twist in a short story about a sniper.....I'm never going to be able to post that now

[salesie]

Excellent John!

I wrote a similar twist in a short story about a sniper.....I'm never going to be able to post that now

It's only a twist, Gunny, if you don't know the history of the 20th century's chief rat. Hitler was a despatch runner throughout the war and a Lance Corporal and a bit of a loner, he did acquire a "British" dog in pretty much the way described in the story, he did name it Fuchsl (little fox) and it was a white terrier reported to be pretty good at ratting. The clues were there before the end.

Cheers-salesie

PS. Here's a picture of the Rat and the Deserter:

[squirrel]

Super stuff John and based on fact as well..........impressive.

[Gunboat]

It's only a twist, Gunny, if you don't know the history of the 20th century's chief rat. Hitler was a despatch runner throughout the war and a Lance Corporal and a bit of a loner, he did acquire a "British" dog in pretty much the way described in the story, he did name it Fuchsl (little fox) and it was a white terrier reported to be pretty good at ratting. The clues were there before the end.

Cheers-salesie

PS. Here's a picture of the Rat and the Deserter:

Sorry thats what I mean Hitler was the twist in my plot as well

[Michael Johnson]

I wasn't sure I could do this one, but here goes.

Ratapult

As I turned the corner of the traverse I saw three of my company gathered around a squat contraption.

"Sergeant Jones, what have you got there?"

"Catapult, Sir. Traded for it with the regiment we just relieved. Said they're not allowed to use it any more."

I could imagine the stonk that would follow any attempt to launch grenades or other projectiles towards the German trenches, all too near at this point in the line.

"How far can it throw, Sergeant?"

"Haven't had a chance to try yet, Sir. If we had a rock, now..."

I heard a slight cough behind me, and turned to see the Adjutant, formerly a History teacher.

"In the medieval times they'd heave human bodies over city walls. Quite clever, really. It cleared them out of your lines, and the effect on the enemy, both psychologically and in terms of contagion, could be quite marked. Of course we can't do that..."

"Well Sir, there's a dead rat here. Can we give it a go?"

A chorus of "Please, Sir?" backed him up.

"Well, I suppose it can't hurt..."

Up close the catapult was quite a machine. It derived its power from twelve coil springs. It took the combined efforts of four men to pull the arm down to the cocked position. Jones pulled the lanyard.

SPROIIINGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The rat corpse flew through the air, describing a parabola, and landed approximately where the German back trenches were supposed to be. There seemed to be a commotion, and several bullets thudded against the parapet.

An idea struck me. "Jones, find me some more rats. What's worse than a worm in an apple?"

"Dunno Sir."

"Half a worm. Be right back."

Down in my dugout I scrabbled through my kit and retrieved my Purdey shotgun. I crammed a handful of shells into my pocket, and raced back.

Sergeant Jones had five dead rats waiting. Jones had been a gamekeeper on our estate, and lurking in the background was Private Purling, once the best poacher in the county. I didn't have to enquire further.

"Ready, Jones?" A nod.

"Pull!"

As the rat flew towards the German lines, I tracked it with my shotgun. Just when I figured it was over the German front line, I pulled the triggers. The rat exploded and the pieces dropped straight down. The men cheered.

"Pull!" I repeated the process.

On the fourth try I missed.

"Last one! Pull!"

My finger was just tightening on the trigger, when there was a crack! from the German lines, and the rat fell straight out of the sky. A cheer rose from the German trenches.

I considered poking my head over the parapet and doffing my cap to the German sportsman. I also considered I'd be a fool to give a target to anyone who was that good a shot.

[Michael Johnson]

Bump!

Come now, ladies and gentlemen, surely rats are a hot topic.

[Guest]

Love the sporting aspect, Micheal.

Salasie, good tweak in the tail.

It is interesting to see different takes on the subject.

Waiting for others to give their twists to Rats.

Kim

[Gunboat]

There should be a cartoon to accompany that gem Michael...

I am quite busy at work at the moment but things are forming in my mind

[squirrel]

Did you manage to find anything that rhymes with Norwegicus?

[Gunboat]

If one thing is going to baffle us

Its finding a rhyme with norwegicus

Is it Norweg like more veg

Or Norweg like poor seige

Or is it 'eg' as in leg and/or pegasus

So No

[Michael Johnson]

Non amicus [est].

[jdajd]

I'm new to this and wanted to add something. I have been working on a piece for sometime, but for some reason there are no rats in it yet, so this is something I just came up with.

The tunnel's blackness stretched in both directions and Michael could hear and feel the roar as it neared its crescendo. He was quietly humming to himself and was no more connected with the world today then he had been the day before or the day before that. In fact, it had been some times since Michael truly felt a part of the world of the living. He knew he wasn't dead, but he also knew he was not quite alive anymore. Yesterday, today and tomorrow ceased to have meaning for him and he had a hard time coping with his surroundings. He could tell that the sound was getting louder and closer and he welcomed the vibration and knew that it was there to take him somewhere else.

But where was he and where was he supposed to go? And what was that hellish noise that seemed to be aimed directly at him?

Without figuring out the answers to these questions his body moved seemingly without volition and stumbling back, falling over himself, he slammed his back against the hard wall behind him. Frozen in position he stared at the world and saw it as if through a fog. He felt like a window shopper stopping in to look at store's display, close but just beyond touch. In an instant the fog cleared and he knew what he had to do.

It was the rat that finally pushed him over the edge again. The giant gray rat that scurried out from some filth infested nether region. The fat fearless rat that stood there staring at him accusing him of some unknown and unseen crime. The beady red eyes burned into his sole and exposed every fear and every unconscious thought that his mind had been trying so hard to forget. The rat made him remember.

He remembered that when the rats were running you should not stay where you were because it was about to get very unhealthy. He remembered that sometimes before a big push the rats seemed to just disappear as if they somehow knew when danger was approaching.

He remembered the rats gorging themselves on the bloated bodies that littered no-mans land after those pushes. He could remember peering into no-man's land watching the ground seethe and squirm as the rats climbed over each other to feast at the abattoir.

He remembered what the noise was, he remembered what it meant and he knew that he had to find cover. Reaching down along the cold wall with palms drenched with fear laced sweat, Michael crouched down and tried to make himself as small as he could to avoid the oncoming nightmare. The world swirled around him as the noise and light became one deafening crash. He crawled along the edge of the wall looking for some place to tuck his body into for safety.

He was crouched down with his head tucked into his arms when the noise finally came to its squealing roaring finale. He felt the warm blast of air as its contents poured out of the metal casing and covered the ground around him. In that instant he accepted his fate and in someway welcomed it. Finally, it was over and he could be free of his burden. In his acceptance he opened his eyes to welcome his new world only to be crushed by the reality that it was not over and his living nightmare would continue.

Staring back at him was a little girl, no more than 9 or 10 in a bright red jacket and patent leather shoes holding a women's hand in hers.

"Mommy, why is that man hiding like that on the subway platform?"

Without an answer the woman tugged the child and was gone into the rush hour crowd that had just poured out of the train.

He remembered and knew that he survived. No, his nightmare was not over, it was just beginning.

[Gunboat]

welcome and what an entry...beautifully written

[squirrel]

Excellent piece of writing - well done.

[Guest]

Good day and welcome. Great peice, very emotive.

[RobL]

If you can wait until I get my next reel of film from my 1917 camera processed (still have one shot left unfortunately!), you'll be able to see a cracking shot of a real dead rat being eaten by real live maggots about two feet away from me and my Lewis gun during some filming a couple of days back!