How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.
In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.
I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.
Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.
There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.
Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.
It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.
For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.
It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!
All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.
I. The Strategic Genesis of Stalemate: The Failure of the Schlieffen Plan
The stabilisation of the Western Front into a static line of trenches was not a foreseen event, but rather the direct consequence of the strategic collapse of Germany’s pre-war war plan, coupled with the overwhelming dominance of modern defensive firepower. The geographical extent of the initial German advance dictated the final position of the trenches that defined the conflict for nearly four years.
A. Pre-War Doctrine and the Crisis of August 1914
Prior to the outbreak of war in August 1914, German strategy was governed by the Schlieffen Plan, a design intended to ensure victory in a feared two-front war against both France and Russia.1 The core principle of this plan was speed: to deliver a massive, decisive blow against France by executing a vast enveloping attack through the neutral territories of Belgium and Luxembourg.3 The goal was to defeat the French military—which Schlieffen did not believe would necessarily adopt a defensive posture—within a matter of weeks, enabling German forces to then transfer their overwhelming strength eastward by rail to confront the supposedly slow-to-mobilise Russian Empire.1
The implementation of the plan, however, was marred by critical modifications made by Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke. The original concept, which required the main German army strength (the “scythe”) to sweep through Belgium, demanded maximum possible force on the right wing.3 Moltke, concerned about French defensive attempts in Alsace-Lorraine and facing an unexpectedly rapid Russian advance in the East, diverted a significant portion of the invasion force.2 Historical records indicate that 25% of the German force originally designated for the western offensive, amounting to 250,000 troops, were transferred or held back.2
This decision to weaken the crucial right wing effectively ensured the plan’s failure to achieve its strategic objectives. The plan’s rigid nature demanded precise execution and overwhelming superiority at the point of attack, conditions that Moltke’s modifications eliminated.1 While the German Army initially achieved success, sweeping through Belgium and pushing Allied forces back in a sequence of battles (known collectively as the Battle of the Frontiers), they ultimately lacked the necessary strength and strategic depth to complete the maneuver that would have encircled Paris.4 The final position of the resulting trench line would therefore become, in geographical terms, a map of the internal failure of German strategic command.
B. Technological Pressure and the Inevitability of Entrenchment
The initial mobile warfare, occurring from August through early September 1914, confirmed a critical reality that predated the Marne: a revolution in firepower had outpaced advances in mobility.6 Modern weapons, specifically rapid-firing artillery and massed machine guns, gave the defender a colossal advantage over attacking infantry formations exposed in the open.7 Eyewitness accounts from the fighting in late summer 1914 describe infantry in loose skirmishing lines exchanging volley fire, coupled with the necessity of immediately digging in to seek protection from harassing artillery.8
The shift to trench warfare was thus technologically mandated, not merely a tactical preference.6 The scale of casualty rates during the initial mobile phase demonstrated that offensive manoeuvre warfare, as traditionally conceived, was unsustainable. The great strategic failure of the German manoeuvre—the Schlieffen Plan—did not invent trench warfare; rather, it merely provided the definitive geographical location where the military necessity for widespread entrenchment was finally acted upon simultaneously by both armies. Once the massive initial armies ground to a halt, the combination of technological lethality and manpower density made the conversion to fixed positional warfare immediate and absolute.
II. The Stabilising Catalyst: The First Battle of the Marne
The decisive event that arrested the German advance and precipitated the immediate stabilisation of the Western Front was the First Battle of the Marne.
A. Location, Date, and Immediate Strategic Context
The pivotal conflict that ended the War of Movement was the First Battle of the Marne, fought from 5–14 September 1914.9 By this date, the massive German right wing had advanced deep into France, approaching the outskirts of Paris.5 The primary engagement took place near the Marne River near Brasles, east of Paris, France.9 The German armies were positioned within approximately 30 miles (48 km) of the French capital.11
The Allied counterattack was launched by the French Army, commanded by General Joseph Joffre, and the British Expeditionary Force (BEF).9 A critical moment arose when French command, notably General Joseph Gallieni, recognized and exploited a widening gap that appeared between the German 1st and 2nd Armies.5 This gap exposed the German flanks to attack, threatening to unravel the entire northern invasion force. The strategic urgency was famously underscored by the rapid deployment of French troops from Paris, including approximately 3,000 men from the Seventh Army transported by requisitioned Parisian taxicabs, reinforcing the Sixth Army on the night of September 7.13
B. The Termination of Mobile Warfare
The First Battle of the Marne concluded as a major Entente victory.9 It successfully forced the Germans to abandon their strategic goals and immediately retreat, thereby preserving French sovereignty and thwarting the German plan for a quick, total victory on the Western Front.10 The German command structure faltered during this crisis; Helmuth von Moltke, deemed to have lost his nerve, was relieved of command on September 14.10
The German retreat concluded north of the Aisne River.13 It was here, upon halting their withdrawal, that the Germans immediately “dug in, constructing trenches” to establish a cohesive defensive line against the pursuing Franco-British forces.13 This defensive action at the Aisne River valley marks the functional beginning of the static front. While the Marne is the strategic turning point that compelled the retreat, the subsequent Battle of the Aisne represents the point where both sides realised they could neither flank nor defeat the opponent in open manoeuvre, cementing the necessity for fixed positional defences.13 The stabilisation, therefore, was not merely a momentary pause but a deliberate strategic shift, guaranteeing a protracted war of attrition.
Table 1: Key Battle Defining the Western Front Stabilisation
Battle Name
Date Range
Primary Location
Strategic Outcome
Initiation of Stabilization
First Battle of the Marne
5–14 September 1914
Marne River near Brasles, east of Paris, France
Entente victory; German strategic retreat
Halted the deep German invasion; forced permanent entrenchment north of the Aisne River 9
III. The Finalisation of the Line: The Race to the Sea
Following the German retreat to the Aisne, the armies attempted to manoeuvre around each other’s flanks in a final desperate attempt to regain mobility. This process, known as the “Race to the Sea,” ultimately extended the trench line to the coast and completed the static nature of the Western Front.
A. The Quest for the Flank and the Northern Anchor
The Race to the Sea (French: Course à la mer) occurred between 17 September and 19 October 1914.15 As the German and Allied forces became fixed along the Aisne, both sides sought to swing their northern armies around the opponent’s exposed flank. This involved a sequence of northward extensions, resulting in indecisive encounter battles across Artois and Flanders.15
The “Race” concluded only when the opposing forces encountered the North Sea, the ultimate geographical barrier.5 The northernmost terminus of the resulting continuous front was established near the Belgian coast at Nieuwpoort.12 This region was held by the remnants of the Belgian Army, which controlled the Yser Front along the Yser River and Ieperlee, maintaining a small sliver of unoccupied West Flanders.5
B. The Crucible of Flanders: Yser and Ypres
The final, bloody clashes that confirmed the line’s stability occurred in Flanders. The extension of the front culminated in the Battle of the Yser (16 October – 2 November) and the First Battle of Ypres (19 October – 22 November 1914).15
The First Battle of Ypres, centred on the ancient city of Ypres (Ieper), saw intense, mutually costly fighting.17 The Germans failed to achieve their objective of capturing the vital coastal areas and ports. By 22 November 1914, the German drive had been permanently halted, resulting in the formation of the Ypres Salient.17 This massive bulge in the Allied line, curving around Ypres itself, was established because German troops secured the strategically crucial higher ground to the east of the city.19 The Ypres Salient, a tactically vulnerable yet strategically essential position, became the site of relentless attrition for the duration of the war.20
The conclusion of the First Battle of Ypres confirmed the permanence of the stalemate. Both sides, realising that no decisive flanking maneuver was possible and faced with the reality of defensive firepower superiority, committed fully to the construction of elaborate trench systems.6 The stabilisation was thus a near-instantaneous military adjustment, enforced by the lethal technology of the era, finalising the 700 km static line.
IV. The Geographical Line of Attrition (Late 1914–1915)
The fixed trench line established by the end of 1914 ran an approximate distance of 440 miles (700 km)12 (or 400-plus miles 21). It was a meandering, fortified boundary that stretched from the Belgian coast to the Swiss border, and its contours profoundly shaped the ensuing years of the conflict. The line remained remarkably static, shifting no more than 50 miles (80 km) from its position until the German Spring Offensives of March 1918.5
A. Macro-Geography: Dimensions and Economic Context
The trench system was geographically anchored between the North Sea coast at Nieuwpoort in Belgium and the Swiss frontier near the Alsatian village of Pfetterhouse.5 The territory occupied by Germany, contained by this line, was strategically vital to France’s war effort, a fact that mandated the German commitment to its defence.5 This occupied area included:
64 percent of French pig-iron production.
24 percent of its steel manufacturing.
40 percent of the coal industry.5
The economic demarcation created by the line guaranteed that the struggle would be one of attrition, as the Allies could not afford to leave such vital resources in German hands, while the Germans were equally determined to hold these industrial prizes to fuel their own war machine.
B. Sector Breakdown: The Trace of the Line
From north to south, the trench line incorporated key geographical features, cities, and strategic bulges:
1. Coastal Flanders and the Ypres Salient (Belgium)
The line began at the North Sea, where the Belgian Army held the Yser Front near Nieuwpoort.5 Moving south, the line immediately encountered the Ypres Salient near the city of Ypres (Ieper).19 This vulnerable bulge, created by the German success in holding the higher ground to the east, became the responsibility primarily of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF).5
2. Artois and Picardy (Northern France)
South of the Belgian sector, the line entered France, crossing the Artois region and running through Picardy. This section formed the northern shoulder of the most significant westward geographical feature of the entire front. Key areas included the battlefields around Arras and the region of Loos.22
3. The Noyon Salient (Oise-Aisne Region)
The central feature of the Western Front’s geography in late 1914 and 1915 was the Noyon Salient. This was the deep westward bulge in the trench line, named after the French town of Noyon, situated near the maximum penetration point of the German advance close to Compiègne.5 This salient was a direct geographical expression of the failure to execute the final swing of the Schlieffen Plan. The line ran just north of the Aisne River, where the initial post-Marne entrenchment had occurred.12 The existence of the Noyon Salient became the primary determinant of French strategy for 1915, as military leaders focused on attacking its vulnerable northern and southern flanks in an attempt to pinch off the bulge and force a breakthrough.24
4. Champagne, Lorraine, and Alsace (Eastern France)
South of the Noyon Salient, the front line ran eastward through the Champagne region, near the Argonne Forest.24 The French military engaged in the First Battle of Champagne in late 1914 and early 1915, targeting the salient’s southern flank.24
Further south, the line passed near the great fortress city of Verdun21 and then ran along the old Franco-German borderlands of Lorraine and Alsace.12 This southern sector was characterised by greater stability due to the historical continuity of fortified defences in Eastern France, which included strongholds like Toul and Belfort, designed centuries earlier by Sébastien Le Prestre de Vauban.21 This entrenched southern sector had already been the site of French offensive failures in August 1914 (e.g., the Battle of Lorraine) 26, and it remained relatively static until the final terminus near Pfetterhouse on the Swiss border.12
Table 2: Geographical Trace of the Western Front Trench Line (Late 1914–1915)
Sector (North to South)
Country / Region
Key Geographical Features/Cities on the Line
Strategic Feature / Salient
Coastal Flanders
Belgium
Nieuwpoort, Yser River
Northern Terminus, Yser Front 5
West Flanders
Belgium / France
Ypres (Ieper)
Ypres Salient 17
Artois and Picardy
France
Arras, Loos, Aisne River
Northern Shoulder of the Noyon Salient 5
Oise-Aisne Region
France
Noyon, Compiègne
The Noyon Salient (Maximum point of German penetration) 5
Champagne and Argonne
France
Reims, Argonne Forest, Verdun
Southern Shoulder of the Salient 24
Lorraine and Alsace
France
Toul, Belfort, Pfetterhouse (near Swiss Border)
Southern Terminus 12
V. The Confirmation of Stalemate: Trench Battles of 1915
Despite the establishment of a continuous front line, Allied commanders, particularly General Joffre, refused to accept the finality of the stalemate. They believed that a massive concentrated offensive could still achieve a percée (breakthrough) at weak points, leading to a return to mobile warfare.24 The ensuing battles of 1915, however, served only to confirm, at immense human cost, that the geographical line established in 1914 was unbreakable given the prevailing military technology and defensive engineering.
A. The Persistence of Failed Offensives
The French initiated large-scale offensives aimed at the shoulders of the Noyon Salient. The First Battle of Champagne, fought from 20 December 1914 to 17 March 1915, was directed against the German defensive positions between Reims and the Argonne Forest.24 This engagement cost the French Fourth Army over 93,000 casualties, while the Germans sustained approximately 46,000 losses.25 Despite this massive expenditure of resources and lives, the battle was inconclusive, failing to achieve any strategic rupture of the German defences 24
The British and French launched additional attempts in the Artois region, near the northern shoulder of the salient. British efforts, such as the Battle of Neuve Chapelle and the subsequent operations at Festubert in March and May 1915, demonstrated that even local numerical superiority (often three-to-one in men and artillery) could gain only minimal ground.23 Although defenders often gave ground, they were rarely broken and could usually retake lost positions, resulting in catastrophic losses for the attackers.23
B. German Innovation and Acceptance of the Static Line
The German High Command, having accepted the failure of the Schlieffen Plan and recognising the defensive advantage offered by the 1914 line (especially holding the occupied French industrial heartland) 5, adopted a defensive posture on the Western Front for most of 1915. Their single major offensive was the Second Battle of Ypres (April 22–May 25, 1915).28
This battle marked a horrifying tactical innovation: the first large-scale deployment of chlorine poison gas.29 The initial gas attack opened a four-mile-wide breach in the Allied line, causing French and Algerian troops to abandon their positions due to the shock and effects of the new weapon.28 Although the gas created the breakthrough scenario that Allied commanders had desperately sought throughout 1915, the German command had conceived the attack primarily as a strategic diversion to cover the movement of troops toward the Eastern Front for the Gorlice-Tarnow Offensive.30 Consequently, the Germans had no substantial forces ready to exploit the breach.21
The result was a minor territorial gain that came at the cost of tens of thousands of casualties.21 The failure of the Germans to capitalise on their own tactical success confirms their strategic prioritisation: the Western Front was regarded as a protective shield, designed to minimise manpower usage while the Central Powers sought a decisive victory in the East.31
The conclusive outcome of the 1915 battles was twofold: first, they demonstrated that the fixed geographical line could not be broken by existing offensive means; and second, they accelerated the evolution of entrenchment from simple, rapidly dug positions (which often suffered from flooding and destruction) 23 into elaborate, permanent defensive systems featuring deep dugouts, fortified positions, and complex barbed wire arrays.6 This defensive maturation transformed the conflict into an engineering war, locking the armies further into the geography defined in late 1914. This reality ultimately led to the construction of massive fallback positions, such as the Hindenburg Line, which the Germans built behind the Noyon Salient in 1917 to further rationalize their defensive posture.21
VI. Conclusion
The geographical line that defined the start of trench warfare on the Western Front in 1914 and 1915 was the result of the immediate technological lethality of modern warfare meeting the strategic failure of the German manoeuvre.
The First Battle of the Marne (5–14 September 1914), fought near the Marne River east of Paris, served as the primary catalyst that arrested the deep German invasion and led to the stabilisation of the front. The German retreat was halted and entrenched along the Aisne River.
The subsequent “Race to the Sea” extended this initial entrenchment, culminating in the First Battle of Ypres (19 October – 22 November 1914), which anchored the line at the North Sea coast near Nieuwpoort and established the Ypres Salient in Belgium.
The resulting fixed line, stretching approximately 700 km to the Swiss border near Pfetterhouse, traversed key regions and features: the Yser Front, the Ypres Salient, the Allied-held sectors near Arras, the prominent German-held Noyon Salient (near Compiègne), and the established fortresses of Lorraine and Alsace. This geographical boundary, which enclosed critical French industrial assets, became a fixed feature of the war. The costly and strategically inconclusive trench battles of 1915 served only to confirm the permanence of this fixed geographical line, ensuring that the conflict would be a long, devastating war of technological and human attrition.
What do you say, when everything that could be had been said, and then some.
What did marriage counselors know, other than they are right, and you are wrong?
I don’t think either of us, with the same belief, could be wrong. The marriage was over, and there was no use prolonging the agony.
Except we had to try to at least put some of the pieces back together, if only for the sake of walking away with a sense of closure and peace.
But, peace was the last thing in the atmosphere inside the car, and it had been like that since leaving Vancouver.
There had been a momentary truce in Kamloops where we had to stay, in separate rooms, and polite conversation over breakfast, until I put my foot in my mouth.
Again.
I’m not sure if I knew what to say to her anymore. To her, everything I said was laced with an agenda or a subliminal plot. I got it, I’d lied to her once too often, and once she proved one right, and, from there, it didn’t take long for the whole charade to unravel.
I’d been advised against marrying her, that I would not be able to do my job and have some sort of life with Eloise, but I wanted it.
And, fifteen months down the track, my employers had been proved right.
Eloise was driving. Her parents lived in Banff, and we had made the trip in all of the four seasons, and now winter, she was more used to the icy conditions than I.
It gave me a chance to look at her from my side of the mid-sized SUV. We were going to take her car, a rather small sedan, but it had broken down, so I hired a Ford Flex.
If you’re going to take on the elements, I wanted a car that could handle the conditions.
In that, I think I’d managed to surprise her, and not in a bad way.
For the first time in a long time.
Then, of course, she had to look sideways, and that ruined it. The frown followed by the pursed lips. Something caustic was about to come my way.
Except a very loud bang took us both by surprise, and skewing the car sideways, catching the edge of the ice on the road, and we started spinning.
As good as she was, there would be no containing this calamity.
I looked behind to see what the hell had hit us.
An F350 or RAM 2500, definitely larger than us, definitely deliberate, and definitely with intent to hurt us.
Or me.
My work had finally come home.
There was a scream just on the edge of her terror as the car had spun sideways and the car behind us slammed into it us again, arresting the spin and pushing us towards the edge of the road.
I could see what the pursuer’s intent was. Down the side, a roll if possible, then pick off the survivors as they scrambled from the wreckage.
Or not have to worry, the roll may do the job for them.
We hit the edge as the other car braked, and we continued on, that stifled scream from Eloise now erupting.
She could see what was going to happen, just as our car tipped.
Six seconds.
Seat belt or not, totally unprepared for what was about to happen, she was not going to walk away from this.
Unless I did something about it.
Seatbelt unhitched I dragged her to me and protected her as best I could. She didn’t resist, but the look in her eyes, terror laced with something else, no time to think about it now, told me she would do whatever I wanted.
Over on the roof, upside down, I prayed it stayed there, and slide, The ice, snow, and slush was going to help.
Seconds passed, taking what seemed forever, till we reached the bottom of the hill and hit a rock, arresting the movement with a loud bang and a crunch of bending metal.
Stopped.
Engine still running.
No movement from her. Yet.
And relief. No bones were broken, or none that I noticed.
Under me, she stirred.
Just as a bullet smashed the rear passenger window, and the shattered glass splattered the interior. A moment later, the side window, above my head did the same.
I lifted myself, whispering in her ear, “Slide towards the front window.” It was buried in the snow and dirt kicked up in the final run to the bottom. The shooter would not be able to see it, or her.
Above me, I reached up to feel under the seat and found the package.
A gun. Always be prepared.
Ten seconds since the last shot. From up top, the shooter would not be able to see us, or any movement. He was going to have to come down and finish the job.
And hope we were would not be able to fight back.
That was the purpose of running us off the road.
Pity then that he had not been given my file. If he had he would have driven off and tried again later.
That he was halfway down the hill when I saw him told me this operation had been cobbled together quickly, with no time to find a professional.
And now I knew why Barnes had told me to be careful.
A lone wolf looking to make a name for himself.
And failing.
Ten minutes, the police arrived.
Long enough to bury the body and the weapons under a lot of snow, in a ravine that no one would discover until the thaw.
The car that rammed us had gone. Soon as he saw his partner go down, he left. A wise man, he had stayed at the top of the hill, having more sense than his friend.
Live to fight another day,
The policeman asked the questions, and Eloise answered. Not one mention of being rammed, run off the road, being shot at, or that there was anyone else involved.
As cool as a cucumber.
It took her a minute after I shot our attacker to ask the questions I’d expected a week ago when she finally discovered my other life, prefaced by, “No more lies, just tell me the truth. What the hell is it you do for a living?”
“Make the world safe for people like you, and in my case right now, for you in particular. Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy.”
“Even from your wife?”
“Especially from you. You now know why.”
“Bit late for that now, do you think?”
“Just a little.”
And then I saw the look, the one I had fallen in love with 15 months ago. The one that made my heart miss a few beats.
“You do realize you are the biggest idiot on the planet, don’t you?”
“Does this mean I can stay?”
She punched me on the arm., OK, no broken bones, but there was going to be bruising, major bruising.
“If you promise to tell me only the truth from now on.”
What harm could it do? She knew enough.
“Good. We should probably do something with that man out there. I’m assuming the police do not take too kindly to you working in their jurisdiction.”
Too many thrillers, too much TV, or an educated guess, she was right. This would be impossible to explain, and Barnes was already angry at me.
I held out my hand and she took it as I helped her out of the wreckage. Out in the fresh, cold air, she took in a huge breath and let out a slow sigh.
“Is it always this exciting?”
“This is the Sunday in the park stroll. Wait till you have a hand held rocket boring down on you.”
Background material used in creating a location, an explosive situation, and characters to bring it alive – the story – A Score to Settle
…
The world-weary agent – back for one more time
…
The Wreckage of Recovery: He’s Back in the Cold, Guarding His Past
In the world of espionage, the only way out is usually in a box. So when a veteran operative manages to survive a mission so catastrophic it nearly took his life, the recovery phase is supposed to be quiet. Long days of physical therapy, sterile white walls, and the slow, agonizing work of stitching a broken mind back together.
But sometimes, the world doesn’t care if you’re healed. Sometimes, the world demands you step back into the fire—especially when the flames are being deliberately fanned by the one person you were trying to forget.
We have a fascinating, terrifying scenario playing out on the global stage, and it centers on a man who desperately needed to stay out of the game, and a woman who refuses to follow advice.
From Scar Tissue to Suit: The Return of the World-Weary
Our protagonist—let’s call him ‘K’—was, until recently, a ghost. His last operation ended in failure, betrayal, and enough collateral damage to earn him a permanent benching. The physical scars have faded, but the echoes of that op—the one that ended in wreckage, not resolution—still ring in his ears. He is a man who knows the cold, bitter taste of failure, and he has spent his recovery time convincing himself he is done with the risk.
But the powers that be, desperate for a protector whose instincts are razor sharp, regardless of his mental state, have dragged him screaming back. His new assignment? Chief Protection Agent for one of the most famous, and most controversial, keynote speakers in the world.
And this is where the wires cross, the circuits fry, and the danger moves from external threat to emotional time bomb.
The Tinder Box and the Stubborn Star
The VIP—the keynote speaker—is currently a primary target. Her message is polarizing, her reach is global, and the threats against her security detail are mounting daily. Intelligence reports have advised strongly against her appearance at the upcoming summit. The venue is being called a tinder box; a complex security nightmare ripe for exploitation.
Yet, she ignores the warnings. She is charismatic, driven, and possesses an almost reckless belief in her own invulnerability. She will step onto that stage, no matter how many alarms are sounding.
And K is the man standing between her and whatever unseen forces are gathering in the shadows.
The History That Threatens the Present
The problem isn’t just the professional risk, the complex logistics, or the very real possibility of a sniper. The problem is the history K shares with the speaker.
Their connection is not just a footnote on a long-forgotten mission brief. It’s the kind of history that makes his hands shake when he reaches for his weapon; the kind of history that compromises judgment and muddies the tactical waters.
Was it a failed romance tangled up in a field investigation? A partnership that blew up under pressure? Whatever the specifics, the remnants of their intense, complicated past linger. For K, guarding her isn’t just a job; it’s a terrifying confrontation with a vulnerability he thought he had successfully buried beneath layers of medical gauze and psychological denial.
Can he protect a woman he once loved, or perhaps still feels deeply connected to, knowing that his last major emotional involvement ended in devastation?
He has been brought in because he is the best. But when the target is also the source of your deepest emotional baggage, being the best is rarely enough. The line between professional duty and catastrophic personal collapse is thinner than ever.
Disaster in the Offing?
K is walking into a situation where the external threat is immense, but the internal threat—his own broken concentration, his lingering guilt, the complicated chemistry between him and the VIP—is arguably far greater.
He knows better than anyone that when personal history is allowed to bleed onto the professional landscape, disaster is almost always the result. He is physically recovered, yes, but mentally? He is still standing precariously amidst the wreckage of his last mission.
The big question hanging over this high-stakes security detail isn’t if the enemy will strike, but rather: Will K be the protector who saves her life, or will his own complicated history with the woman he is guarding be the catalyst for yet another, final, devastating failure?
The clock is ticking. And in this tinder box, the past is about to light the fuse.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
Background material used in creating a location, an explosive situation, and characters to bring it alive – the story – A Score to Settle
…
The world-weary agent – back for one more time
…
The Wreckage of Recovery: He’s Back in the Cold, Guarding His Past
In the world of espionage, the only way out is usually in a box. So when a veteran operative manages to survive a mission so catastrophic it nearly took his life, the recovery phase is supposed to be quiet. Long days of physical therapy, sterile white walls, and the slow, agonizing work of stitching a broken mind back together.
But sometimes, the world doesn’t care if you’re healed. Sometimes, the world demands you step back into the fire—especially when the flames are being deliberately fanned by the one person you were trying to forget.
We have a fascinating, terrifying scenario playing out on the global stage, and it centers on a man who desperately needed to stay out of the game, and a woman who refuses to follow advice.
From Scar Tissue to Suit: The Return of the World-Weary
Our protagonist—let’s call him ‘K’—was, until recently, a ghost. His last operation ended in failure, betrayal, and enough collateral damage to earn him a permanent benching. The physical scars have faded, but the echoes of that op—the one that ended in wreckage, not resolution—still ring in his ears. He is a man who knows the cold, bitter taste of failure, and he has spent his recovery time convincing himself he is done with the risk.
But the powers that be, desperate for a protector whose instincts are razor sharp, regardless of his mental state, have dragged him screaming back. His new assignment? Chief Protection Agent for one of the most famous, and most controversial, keynote speakers in the world.
And this is where the wires cross, the circuits fry, and the danger moves from external threat to emotional time bomb.
The Tinder Box and the Stubborn Star
The VIP—the keynote speaker—is currently a primary target. Her message is polarizing, her reach is global, and the threats against her security detail are mounting daily. Intelligence reports have advised strongly against her appearance at the upcoming summit. The venue is being called a tinder box; a complex security nightmare ripe for exploitation.
Yet, she ignores the warnings. She is charismatic, driven, and possesses an almost reckless belief in her own invulnerability. She will step onto that stage, no matter how many alarms are sounding.
And K is the man standing between her and whatever unseen forces are gathering in the shadows.
The History That Threatens the Present
The problem isn’t just the professional risk, the complex logistics, or the very real possibility of a sniper. The problem is the history K shares with the speaker.
Their connection is not just a footnote on a long-forgotten mission brief. It’s the kind of history that makes his hands shake when he reaches for his weapon; the kind of history that compromises judgment and muddies the tactical waters.
Was it a failed romance tangled up in a field investigation? A partnership that blew up under pressure? Whatever the specifics, the remnants of their intense, complicated past linger. For K, guarding her isn’t just a job; it’s a terrifying confrontation with a vulnerability he thought he had successfully buried beneath layers of medical gauze and psychological denial.
Can he protect a woman he once loved, or perhaps still feels deeply connected to, knowing that his last major emotional involvement ended in devastation?
He has been brought in because he is the best. But when the target is also the source of your deepest emotional baggage, being the best is rarely enough. The line between professional duty and catastrophic personal collapse is thinner than ever.
Disaster in the Offing?
K is walking into a situation where the external threat is immense, but the internal threat—his own broken concentration, his lingering guilt, the complicated chemistry between him and the VIP—is arguably far greater.
He knows better than anyone that when personal history is allowed to bleed onto the professional landscape, disaster is almost always the result. He is physically recovered, yes, but mentally? He is still standing precariously amidst the wreckage of his last mission.
The big question hanging over this high-stakes security detail isn’t if the enemy will strike, but rather: Will K be the protector who saves her life, or will his own complicated history with the woman he is guarding be the catalyst for yet another, final, devastating failure?
The clock is ticking. And in this tinder box, the past is about to light the fuse.
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
Would you give up everything to be with the one you love?
…
Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?
For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself. It takes him to a small village by the sea, a place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.
Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.
Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.
A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone. To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.
But can love conquer all?
It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.
The cover, at the moment, looks like this:
Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?
For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself. It takes him to a small village by the sea, s place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.
Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.
Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.
A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone. To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.
But can love conquer all?
It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.
All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.
I. Introduction: The Attritional Landscape of Late 1915
By October 1915, the character of the First World War on the Western Front had solidified into a grueling stalemate defined by static trench warfare, a condition established rapidly following the “Race to the Sea” in late 1914.1 The 800-kilometer line of fortified trenches, stretching from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier, dictated a war of attrition where the defender generally held a decisive advantage due to the revolution in firepower outpacing mobility.2
This specific period followed the costly and ultimately unsuccessful Franco-British offensives of September 1915, notably the Battle of Loos and the Third Battle of Artois.4 While these large-scale attacks inflicted severe casualties, they failed to achieve an operational breakthrough.6 Following these failures, October represented a strategic pause, compelling both sides—the Germans primarily on the defensive throughout the year—to prioritise maintenance, consolidation, and learning from the “tough learning experience” of offensive warfare.7
The tactical consequences of the earlier offensives were substantial. The initial British success at Neuve Chapelle in March 1915, achieved via a short, concentrated artillery bombardment, demonstrated a clear method for overcoming a single trench line.5 However, Allied command incorrectly concluded that mere volume of fire was the key, leading to the doctrine of massive, prolonged barrages. Conversely, German command immediately recognised the necessity of deep, redundant defensive systems, prompting a rapid divergence in trench quality.5 By October 1915, Allied trenches, particularly those taken over from the French, were frequently rudimentary, poorly drained, and in a “weak state of defence,” demanding immediate, dangerous labour details to upgrade the infrastructure.8
Furthermore, October marked the meteorological transition toward winter, introducing the environment itself as a critical mechanism of attrition. The onset of cold, persistent dampness led to widespread flooding, exacerbated by the destruction of pre-war drainage ditches by constant shelling.7 For the infantry soldier, this environmental degradation often superseded direct enemy action as the primary danger. The resulting non-battle attrition, especially conditions like Trench Foot, became a systemic military challenge, requiring constant attention and effort to mitigate the loss of manpower.11 The overall soldier experience during this week was highly variable, ranging from “invariably hellish” salients like Ypres to “quiet” sectors operating under an informal “live and let live” system, though even these peaceful fronts accrued daily casualties from snipers, gas, and disease.2
II. The Weekly Rhythm: Rotation, Fatigue, and Logistics
The experience of a soldier during a specific week in October 1915 was defined entirely by the rotation system, a necessary measure acknowledging that a “prolonged stay in the first trench was inhumane”.14 This structured cycle allowed for the management of physical and psychological fatigue, ensuring that combat forces were regularly replaced and refreshed, though true rest was often scarce.
A typical British or Commonwealth infantry rotation cycle involved moving through four positions along the line: the Front Line, the Support Line, the Reserve Line, and a period of Rest/Hinterland duty.2 A unit would typically spend 2 to 4 days in the Front Line before rotating backward.14 This period was the most dangerous, demanding constant vigilance and work, including ‘Stand-to’ rituals and continuous maintenance of the parapet.16 During the following periods in the Support and Reserve lines (totalling approximately four to eight days), soldiers served as defence in depth and were heavily engaged in crucial tasks: digging new systems, constructing fortifications, and serving as strenuous working parties to supply the front.2
The goal of the rotation was to achieve a minimum of seven days in a dedicated Rest/Recuperation period, essential for restoring fighting fitness. During this phase, soldiers benefited from crucial measures like undisturbed sleep, the opportunity for a bath, and regular hot meals.15 These periods also included essential training and drill.18 However, even when rotated out of the absolute front, the respite was not necessarily idle; men were constantly detailed for strenuous labor, such as communication trench digging or assisting logistics, meaning they were often “up every night”.19 This constant high level of physical activity, combined with sleep deprivation, resulted in a state of chronic exhaustion, which was a recognized predisposing factor for severe medical conditions such as Trench Foot.11
The flow of supplies was paramount and dictated the nightly rhythm of the rear areas. All vital logistics—rations, water, and ammunition—were moved up the line after dusk under the cover of darkness.2 This involved long, dangerous carrying parties traversing miles of winding communication trenches from rear-area field kitchens and depots.20 Despite sophisticated initial logistical plans relying on rail transport 21, the final miles relied on manual conveyance. The inadequate final-mile logistics meant that rations, though generous on paper, often arrived cold, tinned, or spoiled, failing to provide optimal nourishment.15 Furthermore, drinking water, transported in repurposed containers like petrol cans, had to be purified chemically, resulting in a taste that forced soldiers to consume most water in the form of cold tea.15 The difficulty in providing hot, nutritious food and clean water weakened troop immunity and morale just as the cold, wet conditions of October began to set in.22
Table 1 details the cyclical demands placed on infantry units during this attritional phase of the war.
Table 1: Typical Western Front Infantry Rotation Cycle (October 1915)
High exposure to Minenwerfer and snipers; constant dampness/mud 9
Support Line
4 days
Reserve for Front Line, Carrying Parties, Drainage/Dugout Labour, Equipment Supply 2
Still subjected to sporadic artillery fire; heavy fatigue work at night 19
Reserve Line/Billet
8 days
Training, Deep fatigue work (e.g., communications digging), Cleaning, Rest/Sleep 2
Opportunity for hot food and bath 15; billeting conditions often poor 19
III. The 24-Hour Cycle: Routine, Boredom, and the Fear of Dawn
Life in the front line was characterised by a strict, repetitive schedule where movement and labour were rigidly controlled by the risk of observation and fire. This routine was simultaneously mundane and terrifying.16
The day commenced approximately 30 minutes before sunrise with the critical ritual known as “Stand-to arms,” requiring every soldier to man the firing step with rifles and fixed bayonets.16 Doctrine held that dawn was the most likely time for an enemy attack. Paradoxically, because both sides fully manned their defences, outright dawn assaults were rare, as commanders recognised the suicidal nature of attacking an alerted garrison.18 However, this expectation of attack often culminated not in an infantry rush, but in a concentrated artillery barrage known as the “morning hate,” designed to strike bunched-up infantry outside the protective confines of their dugouts.18
Once the morning firing subsided, the daily routine transitioned into maintenance and inspection. This included weapons cleaning, kit inspections, and breakfast, which often consisted of tinned rations and the highly valued tot of rum.16 During daylight hours, nearly all work was conducted below the parapet to avoid snipers and observation.23 This included essential maintenance like filling sandbags, deepening trenches, and repairing duckboards.17 Interspersed with these fatigue duties, periods of downtime offered a vital psychological release, allowing soldiers to read, play cards, or write letters and journals, maintaining a crucial connection to normalcy amidst the “near-constant horror and death”.17
The imposition of a rigid daily routine was essential for imposing discipline and order amidst the inherent chaos of static warfare.16 Small, predictable comforts, such as the rum ration and post from home 16, functioned as vital psychological buffers. The capacity of a unit to maintain this routine and deliver necessary logistics, therefore, had a direct, measurable effect on morale and cohesion, which were essential components of effective resistance in attritional warfare.26
As visibility faded, the day’s routine culminated in the second ‘Stand-to’ at dusk.16 With the cover of darkness, activity intensified dramatically. The trenches became a hive of motion, facilitating troop rotations, the dangerous logistics of carrying rations and water, and the retrieval of mail.16 Engineering parties worked continuously to repair the parapets, maintain wire defences, and lay duckboards, preparing the line for the dangers of the ensuing night and the next day.17
IV. Night Operations: The Real Battle for No Man’s Land
Under the cover of darkness, No Man’s Land transformed from an exposed wasteland into a critical, intensely contested operational theatre.2 Night operations involved specialised patrols, raids, and constant construction, crucial for both defence and intelligence gathering.
Movement of troops, supplies, and reconnaissance was strictly limited to the night.2 Troops deployed specialised patrols with two main objectives. Reconnaissance patrols operated cautiously, seeking to detect enemy working parties, confirm the integrity of friendly wire, and occasionally cut enemy telephone cables, generally trying to avoid engagement.27 In contrast, fighting patrols had an aggressive mission: they actively engaged enemy patrols, disrupted enemy reconnaissance, and sought to eliminate forward positions like listening posts, thereby wrestling the nighttime initiative away from the opponent.27 Both sides also established listening posts in No Man’s Land, where sentries sought to detect the sounds of enemy movement or indications of an impending attack.2
By October 1915, trench raiding had become an established and accepted component of trench warfare.26 Raiding parties, typically small groups of up to twenty highly trained soldiers 26, would sneak across No Man’s Land with the goal of entering the enemy trenches to gather intelligence, capture prisoners (a primary objective), or seize weaponry.26 These missions were exceptionally perilous, often resulting in high casualty rates due to counter-patrols or organised defence fire.28 For the close-quarters fighting within the confined trenches, soldiers often abandoned cumbersome rifles in favour of improvised, brutal weaponry like clubs, knives, and knuckledusters.29
Beyond the tactical gains, raiding served a critical psychological purpose in the war of attrition. Frequent raiding was intended to “pressurise those in the opposing trenches and prevent them from ever truly being able to relax at night”.26 Since the entire logistics and maintenance structure depended on the cover of darkness 2, successful enemy patrols or raids could cripple a unit’s operational capacity. Therefore, the necessity of aggressive, high-risk patrols underscores that the continuous battle for the front was fundamentally fought at night, in stealth and close combat.
Concurrently, subterranean warfare continued below No Man’s Land. Specialist tunnelling companies, often composed of men with civilian mining experience, worked tirelessly to dig deep tunnels beneath enemy positions. These tunnels were packed with high explosives and detonated to breach or destroy the enemy trench line, creating craters that could be rapidly converted into advanced defensive positions.2 This high-risk activity was constant in specific geographical sectors, such as the slopes of Vimy Ridge.4
V. Mechanisms of Attrition: The Constant Threat Environment
The week in the trenches was characterised by a pervasive threat environment where death was typically delivered not by massed infantry assaults but by random, persistent weaponry. The majority of casualties on the Western Front were caused by artillery fire, shrapnel, and explosive blast effects.1
Artillery bombardment was generally sporadic and unpredictable, even in sectors not officially designated as “active”.13 Commanders understood that continuous massive bombardments were wasteful and often ineffective against dug-in troops.14 However, shelling was a daily feature, supporting every patrol and raid, and used specifically for daily harassment, such as the aforementioned “morning hate”.17 Soldiers mitigated this threat by constructing deep trenches, bunkers, and dugouts, constantly adjusting their defences in a continuous arms race against high explosives.2
A particularly terrifying localised weapon in 1915 was the German Minenwerfer (trench mortar).9 These heavy mortars delivered shells that looked like “an oil drum,” exploding with a terrific report.9 Their steep trajectory allowed them to circumvent the conventional protection afforded by trench parapets, specifically targeting fire bays and dugouts.30 One soldier noted that his sector was less troubled by conventional artillery, but that the enemy “make up for that with trench mortars and rifle grenades”.9 This highlights a tactical imbalance in 1915, often referred to as the “mortar gap,” where German specialisation in trench siege weaponry forced the British to continually upgrade their rudimentary trench designs under fire.7
Sniping and persistent machine gun fire enforced a state of permanent vigilance during daylight hours.16 The fixed defensive positions of trench warfare maximised the effectiveness of the machine gun, a “killing machine” with a high rate of fire that could be sustained for hours.29 Sniping accounted for persistent daily casualties even in quiet sectors, compelling soldiers to adhere to strict movement discipline below the parapet.2
Following the first effective deployment of chlorine gas at Ypres in April 1915 7 and the British use of gas at Loos in September 29, chemical warfare was an evolving and terrifying threat. By October 1915, rudimentary protective measures were in place, including linen masks soaked in water, improvised respirators, and the eventual distribution of cumbersome gas hoods/helmets.29 Gas alarms, typically horns and whistles, were crucial for giving troops the necessary seconds to don this protective equipment.29
The analysis of casualty data reveals a critical characteristic of this period: the cumulative toll of low-level attrition. Even in relatively quiet periods in early 1916, before the launch of the Somme Offensive, the British suffered over 107,000 casualties without engaging in any major battles.
…
Table 2: Sources of Daily Attrition and Risk (October 1915)
Threat Category
Weapon/Source
Impact/Frequency in 1915
Tactical Significance
Direct Combat
Artillery Shells/Shrapnel
Majority of total casualties; unpredictable area denial. Sporadic but highly destructive.
Primary method of attrition; limits daytime movement and forces deep dugouts.
Localized Siege
Trench Mortars (Minenwerfer), Rifle Grenades
Highly disruptive localized attacks against specific fire bays and dugouts.
Daily casualties even in ‘quiet’ sectors; enforced low profile during day.
Enforced movement discipline; constant state of vulnerability.
Chemical Warfare
Chlorine/Tear Gas
Rising, sporadic threat following 1915 deployments (Ypres, Loos).
Requires constant vigilance and use of cumbersome, improvised protective gear.
Non-Combat
Trench Foot, Trench Fever (Lice), Rats
High rates of illness leading to extended incapacitation (months).
Undermines unit strength and morale; caused by cold, dampness, and exhaustion.
VI. The Environment and Physical Toll: October’s Misery
As October progressed, the shift in weather ensured that the physical environment became as dangerous as the enemy. The trenches, often hastily constructed, had poor drainage and were quickly destroyed by artillery fire.7 The persistent autumn rains led to widespread flooding, with soldiers describing conditions where they lived in “mud and water” that rose “steadily till knee deep”.7 One account detailed men having to retreat from flooded positions, sometimes having to wade through two feet of water.7
This cold, persistent dampness was the primary driver of Trench Foot, a debilitating condition caused by the stagnation of venous blood in the feet.11 This condition, worsened by chronic fatigue 11, could rapidly progress to gangrene, necessitating amputation.32 Prophylaxis required constant, systematic effort, including regular foot and boot inspection, frequent sock changes, use of specialised talc (“French powder”), and the greasing of boots.11 The widespread attempt to use duckboards to mitigate the standing water often failed, as the boards were either floated away by heavy rains or simply trodden into the thick Somme mud.11
The unsanitary environment was amplified by ubiquitous pests. Rats, bloated from feeding on the waste and corpses of stationary armies, grew “as big as cats” and were known to gnaw on wounded or sleeping soldiers, occasionally causing wounds severe enough for hospitalisation.12 Lice were a constant tormentor, responsible for transmitting Trench Fever, a persistent illness characterised by debilitating headaches, fevers, and muscle pain that could pull a soldier away from the front for months.2
The trenches were an overwhelming sensory experience dominated by the stench of war. The smell was generated by a pervasive mix of “stinking mud mingled with rotting corpses, lingering gas, open latrines, wet clothes and unwashed bodies”.17 Sanitation was a continuous struggle, requiring strict, though often poorly executed, measures such as purifying drinking water and digging small waste pits.15
The systemic failure of early trench design and logistics, particularly in dealing with dampness and sanitation, was recognised as the cause of widespread non-combat casualties. The army authorities realised that maintaining health was crucial for retaining fighting capacity.15 This period starkly highlighted the disparity in positional warfare; while Allied soldiers struggled with hastily dug trenches, accounts suggest that German trenches were often initially better constructed, reflecting their earlier commitment to long-term defence and fortified dugouts.19 The inherent hardship of fighting defensively from positions often materially inferior to those of their opponents compounded the physical toll on the Allied soldier in October 1915.
VII. The Psychological Warfare of Endurance
The relentless, localised violence, combined with the extreme physical degradation of the environment, placed soldiers under extraordinary psychological pressure. This continuous stress environment led to a grim, self-protective normalisation of horror; one private recounted that while seeing men killed immediately initially felt “rather funny,” they “got used to the shrapnel and Bullets” as time wore on.25
The profound psychological strain of this unique form of warfare led to the formal recognition of ‘shell shock’ in 1915.33 Although initially misdiagnosed as physical injury resulting from bomb blast, medical practitioners soon realised that the “mental strain was considerable” even for those not directly exposed to heavy shellfire.33 The symptoms were varied and severe: uncontrollable shaking and trembling, being “dazed” after bombardment, or, in acute cases, men losing “control of everything” and being seen “singing” as they were taken out of the line.34 By 1916, hundreds of thousands of men would suffer from this condition.33
The high incidence of shell shock provided empirical evidence that the most pervasive form of combat activity in October 1915 was the psychological warfare of continuous endurance. Soldiers lived with the constant expectation of a “sudden, random, violent end,” even in designated quiet sectors.13 This anxiety, compounded by chronic sleep deprivation and physical exhaustion, caused rapid psychological breakdown.35
To counter this debilitating strain, soldiers relied on internal and institutional coping mechanisms. Routine provided structure 16, while camaraderie—even occasional, localised truces for collecting the wounded—provided human connection.36 Personal reflection through letters and diaries was a crucial outlet.17 Some soldiers developed a powerful sense of moral justification for their ordeal, such as the soldier who felt that he pitied the civilians who would “never have seen or known the things that we have seen and known”.37 Ultimately, however, the volume of non-battle attrition, both physical (disease) and psychological (shell shock), presented a continuous challenge to the military apparatus’s ability to maintain a functional frontline force.
VIII. Conclusion: October 1915 as a Microcosm of Attritional Warfare
Activity in the trenches during a typical week in October 1915 was dominated by a high-intensity, localised battle for survival, characterised by rigid routine and the constant struggle against systemic attrition. This period marked the deepening recognition of the demands of static warfare following the failed summer and autumn offensives.
A soldier’s week was highly segmented, demanding 2-4 days in the front line defined by the fear of the Minenwerfer and snipers, mitigated only by the discipline of “Stand-to” and constant labour.9 Nights were operational peaks, driven by the need for logistical resupply and the lethal game of patrolling No Man’s Land for intelligence and psychological harassment.2 The bulk of the week was dedicated to recovering from the physical and psychological toll in the support and reserve lines, although true rest was often compromised by unavoidable, exhausting labour parties.19
The analysis demonstrates that the primary attrition sources were not necessarily large-scale battles, which were absent during this strategic pause, but rather the cumulative effect of constant exposure: random shelling, disease vectors (lice, rats), and the debilitating impact of the cold, wet environment.2 The environmental degradation is linked directly to physical collapse, with dampness and fatigue combining to produce widespread Trench Foot, a systemic casualty problem.11
In summary, the week in October 1915 was a crucible, simultaneously characterised by the boredom of routine and the omnipresent threat of a sudden, violent end. It was a transitional phase where tactical and logistical lessons—particularly the necessity of permanent, deep dugouts and counter-siege weaponry—were being painfully learned by all belligerents, hardening the grim reality that would define the warfare of the Western Front for the years to come.
The man who had said that we would never make the distance was right.
It had been my idea to go ‘troppo’, forsake everything, hop on a motorbike and go around Australia. I was, at that stage fed up with everything and, catching Harry in one of his low spots, he decided there and then he would join me.
For the first few days, we believed we were stark staring mad and talked about calling it quits, but perseverance made all the difference. After two months we were glad we had the resolve to keep going, and in that time we had managed to see more of the Australian countryside than we’d seen all our lives.
That was until this particular morning when we arrived in Berrigum, what could have been called a one-horse town. It consisted of one hotel, one general store (that sold everything from toothpicks to petrol) and an agricultural machinery depot. It also had a station and some wheat silos, and this appeared to be the only reason for a town in this particular spot in the middle of nowhere.
And it was the railway station that interested Harry, who was, by this time, getting a little homesick and fed up with his motorbike.
After coughing and spluttering for the last week it had finally died, and the five-mile walk to Berrigum had not helped either his temper, or his disposition, and had only served to firm his resolve to return home.
It was hot but not unbearably so, unlike a hot summer’s day in the city, and even worse still in public transport. For miles around as we tramped those five miles all we could see was acres and acres of wheat, but no sign of life. It was the same when we reached the town. It appeared all the people were either hiding or had left. Harry suspected the latter given the state of the road, and the buildings, more or less the epitome of a ghost town.
Standing at the end of what could have been called the main street with only our own dust for company, one look took in the whole town. In a car, one wouldn’t have given it a second look, if one had time to give it a first. I didn’t remember seeing neither any speed restriction signs nor signpost advertising a town ahead.
And since no amount of argument could sway him from his resolve, the first objective was to get a train timetable, if such a thing existed, and make arrangements for Harry’s return.
The station was as deserted as the town itself, and a quick glance in the stationmaster’s office showed no sign of life.
Leaving the bikes on the platform outside the office, we headed for the hotel for both a drink and make enquiries about rail services. Being a hot day and the morning’s tramp somewhat hot and dusty, we were looking forward to a cold glass (or two) of beer.
The hotel looked as though it was a hundred years old though there was no doubting a few relentless summers would reduce it to the same state. It was as bad inside as out, though the temperature was several degrees lower, and we could sit down in what appeared to be the main bar. We were the only occupants and still to find any sign of life. Overhead, two fans were struggling to move the hot air around.
More than once Harry reckoned it was a ghost town and I was beginning to believe him when, after five minutes, no one arrived.
After ten, we stood, ready to leave, only to stop halfway out of our chairs when a voice behind us said, “Surely you’re not going back out there without refreshment?”
“I was beginning to think the town was deserted,” I said.
“It is during the day, but when the sun goes down…”
I didn’t ask. We followed him to the bar where he had stationed himself behind the counter. “The name is Jack.” He stretched out his hand towards us. “We don’t bother with last names here.”
“Bill,” I said, shaking it, and nodding to Harry, “Harry.”
Harry nodded and shook his hand too.
“The first one’s on the house.” He poured three glasses and put ours in front of us. “Cheers.”
In all cases, it went down without touching the sides (as they say) and he poured a second, at the same time asking, “What brings you to our little corner of the earth?”
“Just passing through,” I said, “Or at least for me.”
“And you?” Jack looked at Harry.
“I can’t hack the pace. I can truthfully say I have thoroughly enjoyed the trip so far, except for a few mishaps, but for me, it’s time to get back to the big smoke. My ‘do your own thing’ has run out of momentum. Do you know if there is a train that goes anywhere important?”
The publican looked at him almost pityingly. “Important, eh?” He rubbed his chin feigning thought. “You make it sound like you are in purgatory.”
“Aren’t we?”
I suppose one could hardly blame Harry for his attitude. After all, at the beginning, he had numerous accidents, caught a virus that stayed with him (and a couple of torrential downpours had done little to help it), and now his motorbike had finally died. No wonder his humour was at an all-time low.
For a moment I thought the publican was going to tell Harry what he thought of him, but then he smiled and the tension passed. “Perhaps to a city fellow like you it might be,” he said. “The mail train which has a passenger carriage comes through once a week, and, my good man, you’re in luck. Today’s the day.”
“Good. How do I get a ticket?”
“You’d have to see the Station Master.”
“And where might he be at the moment? We were at the station a while back and there was no sign of life.”
“Nor will there be until the train comes. Meanwhile, there’s time enough for lunch. I’m sure you will stay?” He looked questioningly at us.
I looked at Harry, who nodded.
“Why not.”
Over lunch, we talked.
I remember not so long ago when I had to attend a large number of lunches where the talk was of business, or, if anything, mostly about subjects that I had no interest in. It was always some posh restaurant, time seemed important, the atmosphere never really relaxed, and to get into a relaxed state it took a large amount of alcohol to deaden the despair and distaste of that one had to fete in order to secure their business.
How different it was here.
We talked about the country, and, after seeing as much of it, and worked on it as we had to fund our odyssey, we could talk about it authoritatively. And, most of all, it was interesting.
The atmosphere too was entirely different than it had been in the city. Out here the people were always friendly, people always willing to stop and talk, particularly farmers; share a drink or some food.
There was none of this carefree purposefulness in the city, and more than once I’d thought of the fact one could travel in the same train with the same people for year after year and still not know any of them. It was the same at work. Even after five years I still hadn’t known three-quarters of the office staff, and most of them probably didn’t want to know me. Harry was virtually the only real friend I’d had at work.
But here, in ‘the middle of nowhere’ as Harry had called it, I felt as though I’d known the publican all of my life instead of the few short hours.
Some hours later and after much argument, where Jack and I tried to talk Harry into staying (Jack said he knew someone who could fix anything including Harry’s bike), Harry remained unconvinced and resolute. Jack, to round off the occasion (we were the first real guests from outside he had had in a week) provided another on-the-house ale and then saw us to the station. “After all”, he had said, “I’ve nothing else to do at the moment.”
By that time the station was showing a little more life than it had before. A station assistant, moving several parcels with a hand trolley, slowly ambled towards the end of the platform.
And whether it could be called a platform was a debatable point. It was a gravel and grass affair that looked more like part of cutting through a hill than a station.
At the station, Jack portentously announced he was also the stationmaster and would be only too happy to take care of Harry’s requirements. It would be, he added, “the first passenger ticket sold for several months.” Certainly, the ticket he handed Harry bore witness to that. It had yellowed with age.
One would have thought with the imminent arrival of the train there would be more people, but no. The only event had been the station assistant’s stroll to the end of the platform and back. Now both he and Jack had disappeared into the office and we were left alone on the platform. Very little in the whole town stirred, nor had it the whole time we’d been there.
“Well,” I said to break the silence. “I’m sorry to see you going through with it. I thought I might have been able to talk you out of it…” I shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“I’m sorry to be going too, but a body can take only so much bad luck, and God knows that’s all I’ve had.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t think of much else to say. “But it’s been good to have your company these last few months.”
“And you. When do you think you’ll get back?”
“When I get sick of it I suppose.”
“Look us up then when you get back.”
“I will.”
Thankfully the appearance of the train in the distance broke off the conversation. I had begun to think of what it was going to be like out on the road with no one to talk to but myself. The thought was a little depressing and I tried not to let it show.
We said little else until the train pulled in, three flat cars, seven enclosed wagons, a passenger carriage and the guard’s van. The train stopped with only part of the passenger carriage and the guard’s van at the station.
The guard took aboard the parcels the station assistant had left for him earlier, and then put those that were for Berrigum on the trolley.
I shook Harry’s hand and said I’d see him around. Then he, the motorbike, and the guard were aboard and the train was off, disappearing slowly into the afternoon haze.
The station assistant then repeated his amble to the end of the platform to collect the hand trolley.
“Staying or moving on.” Jack had come up behind me and gave me a bit of a start.
“Staying I guess, until tomorrow or maybe later.”
“I had heard one of the farm hands is leaving tomorrow heading back to Sydney. There could be a vacancy.”
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 