Cold
Created | Updated Jan 3, 2008
There was nothing but a blinding whiteness at first. I didn't know where I was. I just seemed to be drifting through the empty white-out. Then there were trees. A frozen pine forest. Deep snow. No signs of life. It was desolate, like the end of the world. I didn't know who I was and I felt no curiosity about my identity. As I drifted through the blank forest, I began to sense something pulling at me, drawing me, determining my direction. There was a will at work. It didn't feel like mine. I wondered wordlessly, where I was going and what I was supposed to do when I got there. The speed of my drift increased until it felt like flight. Snow was falling straight down. The word, 'snow' glided into my thought and I examined it for meaning. Snow. Flying through it, added to the impression of speed. I became aware of another sensation: cold.
There was a memory of terrible cold, just edging its way into my consciousness. It was mixed, confusingly, with a memory of warmth. The two impressions slowly disentangled themselves. The cold came first, then there was the feeling of sinking down, down through the bitter, white cold. I sank out of the desperate, biting cold and into soft, sweet warmth. It wasn't white. It was glowing pink. Then there was nothing. Until ......
The cold returned. Or rather, I was going back to the cold. It was growing like hoarfrost round the periphery of my awareness. I felt detached from it. It was close now: my destination - the cold. Almost there. I was descending in an arc through the frigid trees.
All motion ceased just a few feet above the ground. I looked down on a small group of metal helmets. The cold was increasing rapidly. Recognition crept upon me. I wanted to see the faces under the helmets. I drifted lower, until I was level with the men of my company. So few left. They were all looking down into a fox-hole. One of our medics was treating a man slumped in the hole. I looked more closely - scrutinised the face of the patient. A shock lanced through me as I recognised my own face. The cold renewed its iron grip on me - claws of ice sank into my unresisting flesh. My body shuddered back to life. My memory returned in a sudden deluge.
***************************
We were all afraid, but we'd been in the same state of fear for so long that it was almost normal and nobody mentioned it. Nobody complained about the fear. We complained about all the other things though. It was cold. Unbelievably cold. Our clothes were inadequate. They'd recently delivered a load of blankets to our camp but when they were distributed round the trenches and holes, there weren't enough to go round. It was getting colder. Trench foot had been a big problem before the weather turned. It was hard to keep our socks dry. The cold meant nobody wanted to risk taking their socks off. Then it was so cold that we couldn't even feel our feet.
Gibbs looked like death. His face was white, apart from his nose and lips. They were almost blue. He kept coughing and shivering. A medic came by with a couple of blankets for us. We were thankful, but then Gibbs grumbled about his numb feet. The medic insisted on inspecting his feet. Gibbs said he didn't care about taking his boots off any more. His feet couldn't get any colder so it didn't matter. When he took them off the medic tutted. The toes were black. One of them was left behind in the sock when Gibbs pulled it off. The smell was awful.
Just then the ground started to vibrate. We looked up and saw a cloud of ice and snow billowing out between the pine trees across the other side of the clearing. The vibration of the tanks rumbling through the inner edge of the forest was shaking it loose from their branches. The tanks were still hidden by the trees, but we knew the sound too well and soon trees were going down like corn-stalks. Just as we saw the first one appear, gun turret swinging slowly towards our position, there was a loud detonation followed by an explosion of earth and timber right next to us. There was a scream, suddenly cut short and the medic dashed away, shouting back for Gibbs to put his socks back on and he'd have to sort him out later.
None of us were in the best shape for combat. Gibbs seemed to take forever to get his footwear back on. My mind must have frozen, so that I just stared at him. Earth-jarring explosions were going off all around us. Guns were blazing away. I was vaguely aware that someone was standing at the edge of our fox-hole bellowing my name. He yanked me out of my trance by grabbing my shoulder and hauling me up to his level so that he could look me in the eye and shout his instructions into my face.
Sergeant Drew barked at me to wake up and pay attention. We'd lost radio contact so I had to run back through the forest to the next line and request reinforcements. 'Run'. I could barely stand. I stumbled off through the trees with the message. After long enough, the sound of battle receded. It started to snow again. It was fine and powdery to begin with but then big, fat flakes were falling straight down in a dense blanket, piling up at an alarming rate between the widely spaced trees.
I wanted to get into the shelter of one of those big pine trees, sit down against its dark trunk and sleep. Just sleep. It was so cold. The sound of the snow was a continuous soft hiss. It seemed to whisper to me about the peace and the bliss of sleep. But I struggled on through the deepening snow, trying to remember the message, trying to fight off the urge to curl up and go to sleep. The urge to sleep and my desire to do my duty must have reached a compromise, for the next thing I was aware of, was tripping over something and sprawling into the snow. My breath was coming in sharp billows of dense fog. I was confused - wondered where I was. I must have been asleep or in a trance as I trudged through the snow.
The light was failing. The message nudged at my mind and then I remembered my mission. Reluctantly, I got to my feet and looked to see what had tripped me. There was a soldier- one of ours - lying frozen on the ground, half-curled round his shattered and bloody abdomen. I stepped back, shocked; then surprised that my sluggish mind was still able to react with shock after all the carnage I'd seen - and now this murderous cold sapping my will.
There was still enough light, amplified by the snow, to see some distance ahead, then the trees closed in and made their own darkness. The trees were closer together here, so the snow was not so deep. There were bodies everywhere. By some miracle, I'd found the line of troops. I looked around for someone to take delivery of my message - someone alive. There was no-one. There was no sign of life, no movement other than the gently falling snow; no sound other than the soft hiss of it falling. My heart sank as I staggered from one body to the next, looking for a living soul. I tried to shout, but my voice seemed frozen in my throat. There was no response to the hoarse, ghost of a yell that crept from my larynx. There was nothing here but death.
It was so cold. I looked up at the dark, brooding clouds, the spiky white trees, the white falling flakes drifting down to the blasted, frozen white ground. I had to rest, but didn't want to stay here - had to go back, but lacked the strength and energy to move. It was such a long way back, through the frozen night. If only I could think what to do. The idea of food and rest hovered like butterflies just beyond the grasp of understanding. The gentle whisper of the snow continued its persuasive argument in favour of sleep. Under a tree. Or in an empty fox-hole. I might be able to find a blanket. If I could just sleep for a while .......
There was a memory of terrible cold, just edging its way into my consciousness. It was mixed, confusingly, with a memory of warmth. The two impressions slowly disentangled themselves. The cold came first, then there was the feeling of sinking down, down through the bitter, white cold. I sank out of the desperate, biting cold and into soft, sweet warmth. It wasn't white. It was glowing pink. Then there was nothing. Until ......
The cold returned. Or rather, I was going back to the cold. It was growing like hoarfrost round the periphery of my awareness. I felt detached from it. It was close now: my destination - the cold. Almost there. I was descending in an arc through the frigid trees.
All motion ceased just a few feet above the ground. I looked down on a small group of metal helmets. The cold was increasing rapidly. Recognition crept upon me. I wanted to see the faces under the helmets. I drifted lower, until I was level with the men of my company. So few left. They were all looking down into a fox-hole. One of our medics was treating a man slumped in the hole. I looked more closely - scrutinised the face of the patient. A shock lanced through me as I recognised my own face. The cold renewed its iron grip on me - claws of ice sank into my unresisting flesh. My body shuddered back to life. My memory returned in a sudden deluge.
***************************
We were all afraid, but we'd been in the same state of fear for so long that it was almost normal and nobody mentioned it. Nobody complained about the fear. We complained about all the other things though. It was cold. Unbelievably cold. Our clothes were inadequate. They'd recently delivered a load of blankets to our camp but when they were distributed round the trenches and holes, there weren't enough to go round. It was getting colder. Trench foot had been a big problem before the weather turned. It was hard to keep our socks dry. The cold meant nobody wanted to risk taking their socks off. Then it was so cold that we couldn't even feel our feet.
Gibbs looked like death. His face was white, apart from his nose and lips. They were almost blue. He kept coughing and shivering. A medic came by with a couple of blankets for us. We were thankful, but then Gibbs grumbled about his numb feet. The medic insisted on inspecting his feet. Gibbs said he didn't care about taking his boots off any more. His feet couldn't get any colder so it didn't matter. When he took them off the medic tutted. The toes were black. One of them was left behind in the sock when Gibbs pulled it off. The smell was awful.
Just then the ground started to vibrate. We looked up and saw a cloud of ice and snow billowing out between the pine trees across the other side of the clearing. The vibration of the tanks rumbling through the inner edge of the forest was shaking it loose from their branches. The tanks were still hidden by the trees, but we knew the sound too well and soon trees were going down like corn-stalks. Just as we saw the first one appear, gun turret swinging slowly towards our position, there was a loud detonation followed by an explosion of earth and timber right next to us. There was a scream, suddenly cut short and the medic dashed away, shouting back for Gibbs to put his socks back on and he'd have to sort him out later.
None of us were in the best shape for combat. Gibbs seemed to take forever to get his footwear back on. My mind must have frozen, so that I just stared at him. Earth-jarring explosions were going off all around us. Guns were blazing away. I was vaguely aware that someone was standing at the edge of our fox-hole bellowing my name. He yanked me out of my trance by grabbing my shoulder and hauling me up to his level so that he could look me in the eye and shout his instructions into my face.
Sergeant Drew barked at me to wake up and pay attention. We'd lost radio contact so I had to run back through the forest to the next line and request reinforcements. 'Run'. I could barely stand. I stumbled off through the trees with the message. After long enough, the sound of battle receded. It started to snow again. It was fine and powdery to begin with but then big, fat flakes were falling straight down in a dense blanket, piling up at an alarming rate between the widely spaced trees.
I wanted to get into the shelter of one of those big pine trees, sit down against its dark trunk and sleep. Just sleep. It was so cold. The sound of the snow was a continuous soft hiss. It seemed to whisper to me about the peace and the bliss of sleep. But I struggled on through the deepening snow, trying to remember the message, trying to fight off the urge to curl up and go to sleep. The urge to sleep and my desire to do my duty must have reached a compromise, for the next thing I was aware of, was tripping over something and sprawling into the snow. My breath was coming in sharp billows of dense fog. I was confused - wondered where I was. I must have been asleep or in a trance as I trudged through the snow.
The light was failing. The message nudged at my mind and then I remembered my mission. Reluctantly, I got to my feet and looked to see what had tripped me. There was a soldier- one of ours - lying frozen on the ground, half-curled round his shattered and bloody abdomen. I stepped back, shocked; then surprised that my sluggish mind was still able to react with shock after all the carnage I'd seen - and now this murderous cold sapping my will.
There was still enough light, amplified by the snow, to see some distance ahead, then the trees closed in and made their own darkness. The trees were closer together here, so the snow was not so deep. There were bodies everywhere. By some miracle, I'd found the line of troops. I looked around for someone to take delivery of my message - someone alive. There was no-one. There was no sign of life, no movement other than the gently falling snow; no sound other than the soft hiss of it falling. My heart sank as I staggered from one body to the next, looking for a living soul. I tried to shout, but my voice seemed frozen in my throat. There was no response to the hoarse, ghost of a yell that crept from my larynx. There was nothing here but death.
It was so cold. I looked up at the dark, brooding clouds, the spiky white trees, the white falling flakes drifting down to the blasted, frozen white ground. I had to rest, but didn't want to stay here - had to go back, but lacked the strength and energy to move. It was such a long way back, through the frozen night. If only I could think what to do. The idea of food and rest hovered like butterflies just beyond the grasp of understanding. The gentle whisper of the snow continued its persuasive argument in favour of sleep. Under a tree. Or in an empty fox-hole. I might be able to find a blanket. If I could just sleep for a while .......
