Into the Desert on a Horse with No Name? (1 Viewer)

[Harrytheheid]

Any similarities to persons living or brain dead are entirely intentional.


Stalagluft 13, 1942
Serial escapee, part-time SOE agent and full-time bronzed Adonis, Captain Heid is being confronted (again) by Colonel Klunk the commandant.

“Why do you persist in this stoo-pid game Hauptman Heid? Ve knew about zee tunn-ell all zee time”. “Und, donner und blitzen, vat is zees ridiculous escape garb you are wearing?”

“It’s the uniform of the famous tartan army Colonel. It might look daft to you, but come 1974, your son will tremble as he sees thousands of us invading your country again, wearing Dr Marten Boots, Kilt, Scotland football top and a “Jimmy” hat complete with false ginger hair attached – to watch the World Cup”.

“Enough. Schcotlander schwinehunde, its zee Cooler for you ag-en. Take him away feldwebbel”.

“Äch Nein”, thinks feldwebbel Shultz, “last time Captain Heidbanger was in the Cooler, the guards all applied for stress-related leave cos of the racket of that football of his being kicked over and over again against the cell door. The compensation payments and the cost of counselling almost bankrupted the Reich”.

Cut to the office of General Roberts in Whitehall – 1 week later.
“Aaaah, come in, come in, Captain Heid, splendid, splendid. Chivas Regal I believe? Five fingers okay?”
“Now, you can tell us some other time about your escape from captivity using the fold-away paper glider skilfully hidden within your silk scarf escape kit. Understand you launched from the roof of the solitary confinement block after knocking the guards out with that big heavy leather spheroid you insist in kicking around all the time. Splendid, splendid show, what?”

“Och, wuz nuthin’ General, the Jerries were so busy trying to find the 5th Durham Miners Regiment’s 2nd tunnel, they were lulled into a false sense of security”.

“Yes, well, hmmm, the Gestapo caught quite a few of our chaps emerging from that tunnel, but never mind that. Now look-ee here Captain Heid, we’ve a tough one for you this time. The brass-hats have become more and more concerned about the antics of a high up Nazi chap in France, bit of a rabid renegade what? Keeps trying to get involved in Vichy politics, you know the type. Hangs around in lobbies like a bad smell, trying to influence the politicos – but fails miserably every time because of his complete and utter lack of charm or any kind of personality”.
“Words come from on high, and I mean Winston himself, that this utterly repellent little creature is to be eradicated, and you’ve been chosen for the mission”.

“Aye, hoots mon, but bide a wee, your description of this guy strikes a chord. Would he fit the Himmler profile? Never had a real job in his life, arrogant and disrespectful, cheated during exams at school, tends to be disliked on sight by normal people, bit of a chip on his shoulder, grovelling little reptile who can’t abide other peoples opinions, not much height, pot-bellied, buck-teeth, wears an old fashioned hat, walks kind of funny cos of his haemorrhoids, got no mates and absolutely hates Great Britain and all we stand for in defence of civilization?”

“You’ve described him to a tee Captain, The Beast of District C, Major General Ronhard Heylookatmedrich himself”.

“Aye, aah thought it might be him. Surprised no-ones picked him off before now”.

“Well, you know our American friends Captain. Nice bunch overall what? But far too concerned about some new doctrine called political correctness. Something to do with not saying anything at all in case you offend minorities. It’ll never last, just another new fad of theirs, bit like jitterbugging and eating chocolate, what?”
“But you know Heid, you mustn’t underestimate his sly animal cunning. Even though he travels on the main Bordeaux motorway every day and doesn’t vary his route, he does have a car that features some kind of weird perverted Nazi science. Some days it’s a red/black/blue/orange Mercedes, some days it’s a green/yellow/white/rust Volkswagen, other times its one of those Messerschmitt three-wheeler jobbies, sometimes it even disguises itself as a go-cart, what?”

Cut to a field somewhere in Vichy France next day.
Pierre and Raul have lit the flarepath and are lying in a ditch ears strained for the first hum of the Lysander’s engine.

“Can eet be true Pierre?” whispers Raul, “Zee Famous SOE agent Capeetain Henri La Tete ‘ee eez coming to La Belle France to liberate us from zee croo-el clutches of zee infamous Heylookatmedrich?”

“Oui, eet eez a done deal Raul, zee Famous Tete ‘ee eez coming as we speak. I ‘ave ‘eard all about zeez guy. ‘Ee waz zee wun who discovered Victoria’s Secret.”.

“Aaaahaaa Pierre, this guy, eef ‘ee discovered Victoria’s Secret, then ‘ee is the master spy zen?” asks Raul. (French accent moderated).

“Don’t know about zen Raul, but right now, take my advise mon ami, keep ‘eem away from your 25-year old daughter Marie Claire.


Scene cuts to the side of the Bordeaux motorway, 2 days later.
Pierre and Raul are hiding in a ditch (again) ears strained for the sound of the multi-coloured Mercedes/Volkswagon/Messerschmitt/Go-Cart taking the evil Nazi to his daily meeting with the traitorous Vichy politicians.

“What’s up with you Raul mate?” whispers Pierre (in a French accent).

“Aaaaah, mon ami, eet eez zee Famous Capee-tain Henri La Tete. I was so busy keeping Marie Claire safe from eez attentions, zaat I completely forgot about my 45-year old Wife….!!!! Aaaaah, merde and sacred blue and son of zee gun, I think I am zee cuckold – mon ami”.

Leaving Raul’s marital problems to one side for the time being, our two reluctant heroes’ cock their Thompson sub machine guns as they hear the sound of crunching gears and smell the burned clutch plates - and the dreaded pink Horsch trundles into sight on the motorway. Cheapskate Heylookatmedrich has obviously been cutting back on his transport expenses so’s he can spend more on one of his hobbies, (probably the other one).

With a cry of triumph, the two Gallic warriors jump out onto the road, take aim at the wheezing vehicle – and suddenly – nothing happens. No matter what they do, the Thompson’s won’t fire….!!!!!
With a sneer, Heylookatmedrich draws his sidearm which looks like a bit of a cannon to our two helpless Resistance Fighters, and standing up on the driving seat, sticks his head out the sunroof. Just as he’s about to take out the two terrified would-be assassins, an empty beer bottle bounces off his skull and he slumps unconscious back into the drivers seat.

“’Ow did you do zaat Henri?”, ask Pierre and Raul simultaneously.

“Och, years of practice while frequenting low-life pubs in Aberdeen. Emptied it first of course”, responds The Heid. “Okay, let’s get this piece of dung trussed up and get him back to the landing strip. The Lysander’s scheduled to return in around two hours from now”.

“What?”, cry Pierre and Raul simultaneously, and completely confused. “Why don’t you just keel heem now and be done weeth eet?”

“Can’t do that boys. Change of plan. General Roberts wants him spirited away back to Britain so’s we can pump him for all he knows. And by the way, better use Sten Guns next time, they’re more reliable than that cheap lend-lease stuff that Rosie the Riveter is churning oot”

Just then Heylookatmedrich begins to stir. Pierre leans over and begins to whisper to him, at which Ronhard begins quivering and shaking with fear.

Cut to an attic somewhere in France – one week later.
Pierre and Raul are rolling around the floor, tears of laughter pouring down their cheeks, strings of snot hanging off their noses.
Raul’s wife, the beautiful and seductive Veronica, climbs the stairs and pops her head through the trapdoor.

“Merde, stoopeed garcons, you want zee Germans to hear?”

“Non Madam Raul, but eet eez so funny”, whispers Pierre. “Zee Beast of District C who we ‘elped speereet away to England last week, we have just heard on zee BBC radio, eet took zee Anglaise a whole 30 seconds to pomp eem for all ‘ee knows”.

“Now we also hear tonight on zee BBC radio that zee English tried to ransom ‘eem back to zee Nazis – but Heetler, ‘ee say, tell the British we will pay them a Kings Ransom eef they will keep ‘eem instead….!!!!!”

“By the way Pierre, what was eet you said to Ronhard that got ‘eem so excited?” asks Raul.

“Oh I just said, well Nazi cochon, I speet on you and all you stand for, and you want to know somme-ting else? I think now you are, hmmmm, ‘ow you say in zee English? Aaaah oui I remember, I say to eem, now you Nazi peeg-dog, now your goose eet eez £ooked…!!!”

Scene fades to continued hilarity………….

 

[OzDigger]

LOL, nice one

 

[Harrytheheid]

Here's another one. Apologies to my English friends but there's no way to avoid you guys wearing the black hats in this one.
And I've got nuthin' to do tomorrow either. Job in Khafji's finished but its Saturday before I can get to Bahrain and Sunday before I hit Hamburg.


“Do you think they’ll come tonight?” breathed Boyd.

“Don’t know, Robert,” replied Sir Alexander Fleming, the only knight present among the outlawed band, “But if they don’t, then I’m not sure what William will decide next”.

Twenty warriors were gathered on Louden Hill this dark night. Most of them had banded together with their friend William Wallace after the news had spread that the wife of their old college friend had been foully slain by the Sheriff of Lanark after helping her husband escape from his men. Wallace had begun his rebellion against the English invaders during the summer, this year of our Lord 1296. No-one but Boyd, Fleming and the priest Hamilton knew what had sparked the great smouldering anger in the giant young man, and Wallace refused to talk to anyone else about the clearing in Ettrick Forrest.
The four young men, recently graduated from their scholarship at Dundee run by the priests of the diocese, had been taking a short cut through the Forrest when they came upon clear evidence of what Edward Longshanks rule meant in Scotland these days. The village had been cleansed. The houses burned, men slaughtered, women outraged then crucified, children and babes murdered, the well choked with their dead bodies – even the few animals the defenceless villagers had owned were left dead in the dust. On that day, something within Wallace had changed. No longer the easy laughing youth. Shaking with suppressed emotion he had held up his dead father’s claymore, the shadow falling across his face like a crucifix, and sworn a silent and terrible vow. A vow he would cleave to until his dying day.

The revolt had started with random disappearances of individual occupying soldiers. Sometimes their bodies would be found, sometimes not. It swiftly dawned on the English garrisons that a small-scale revolt was gathering. To prevent it becoming a large-scale revolt, patrols were increased, the savagery meted out towards the Scots occupants of towns in the immediate area increased, taxation increased, and of course the whittling down of English soldiers increased as Scotsmen began to take up the sword.

Guerrilla warfare was harsh and brutal. One fortnight past Wallace had decided to pay a visit to his wife of six months, Mirren, daughter of one of his fathers vassals. Unfortunately a man of Wallace’s size and growing fame was not easily disguised, even within the friendly confines of Lanark town. An informer had revealed his presence in Mirren’s sister’s house and members of the garrison had come to arrest or kill him. Alone, Mirren had barred the door, allowing her husband to escape down the back wynde, but when the Englishmen had finally burst into the house, Hesselring, the Sheriff himself had run her through again and again. Whereupon her dead body had been hung by the heels from the gate of the castle keep as a warning to the cowed inhabitants of Lanark.
In the week since, his men had avoided Wallace’s eye and dared not even talk to him; until a few days ago he gathered his group together and quietly explained his plan to wreak his revenge.

So here they were on a cold, windy, black October night on the summit of Louden Hill waiting. Occasional showers of cold rain trickling down the noseguards of those with helmets, trickling down the hair braids of those without. They had had three consecutive nights of fruitless waiting, but tonight was to bring its own reward – and satisfaction.
Three wheeps of a curlews cry went up, and the men of Wallace’s band realised that their long vigil had not been in vain. Along the track at the base of the Hill came two files of horsemen. The three white stars on an azure background on the surcoats of the leading horsemen, just discernable through the gloom of night, told them that this, here, now, was the young Earl of Moray come to join the revolt. The first nobleman to do so.
Warily, both groups considered each other while the two leaders talked quietly together.

“William, when your messenger came before me in the far North, I was unsure if I should respond but now I’m here, I’m glad, most glad”, declared Andrew Moray.

“It’s like I said Andrew, for the sake of freeing this land, we simply must have the nobles declare once and forever, either for King John Balliol or for Edward the Longshanks. This Sheriff, Hesselring, must be dealt with, and quickly, otherwise our revolt here and yours in the North will just fade away” said the young man, “Just like this ancient land is fading away before our eyes”, he added.

“But why Balliol man, he’s safely banished to his estates in Picardy by Edward is he not?”

“Yes Andrew, the Toom Tabard is banished the realm, but if we do not fight the English in his name, then they can rightly claim we are no more than outlaws and brigands. God in his mercy knows, I wish it were otherwise and we had a real King to lead us in our struggle, but Balliol is all we have”.

“Yes William just as in the days we were at college together, you have the rights of it. So what was this plan your messenger said you have?”

After short discussion and debate of minor detail, Andrew declared,
“William, although I am a noble, your experience of this kind of warfare far surpasses mine – you shall be the leader on this occasion”

The wind blowing haphazardly across the curtain wall masked the sound of the dirk sawing across the sentry’s throat and the faint sound he made as the lifeblood drained from his body. Silently, the Highlanders and Lowlanders ascended the ropes thrown down to them by the first climbers. Once the raiders gathered, while the rest of the sentry’s were being dealt with, Wallace and his two constant companions, Boyd and Fleming padded toward the keep. Wallace pausing for a mere second to look up at the partially decomposed body still hanging from the open gateway beckoned his men to begin their work.

Andrew Moray discovered within the next ten minutes how right he was to hand over control of the combat to Wallace and his men. Here was no chivalry, nor knightly code of honour. There was in fact, barely any combat whatsoever as men of the garrison died in their sleep. A pillow pushed over the head, a dirk thrust, and on to the next one. It could not last of course, but the wakening invaders could not defend themselves adequately against the grimly determined force ranged against them. As the last one was killed in the courtyard, a great shout went up. There at the top of the gateway stood William Wallace with the hated Hesselring held fast. Suddenly, the Sheriff’s body was hurled into space. The sound of hip and knee joints being dislocated from their sockets as the ropes tied to his ankles brought him up short, clearly audible to the victorious band of men.

Wallace slowly descended the stairs and without looking at the agonized man hanging there, strode out of the keep. With a roar, his followers ran towards Hesselrings helpless body and hacked it to pieces.

Andrew, catching up with his friend, and laying a restraining hand on his shoulder, said, “William of a mercy, what about Mirren’s body? Wait until we cut her down for decent Christian burial man”.

“Andrew, Mirren is in a better place now. Have the men gather up the parts of Hesselring that are left and put them in a net. Hang him beside my Mirren as an example of Wallace’s vengeance. It may make the invaders may think twice about murdering an innocent Scotswoman. And it just might clearly point our nobles in the direction of their duty to this country”.

Footnote: Next year, in 1297, Andrew, Earl of Moray and co-leader of the first revolt against Longshanks was mortally wounded at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. He died some two weeks after the battle.

 

[Rob]

Even though we are 'wearing the black hats' its Very good H,probably more historically correct than Gibsons!.Keep up the good work.

Rob

 

[Harrytheheid]

Even though we are 'wearing the black hats' its Very good H,probably more historically correct than Gibsons!.Keep up the good work.

Rob

As discussed via PM's Rob, and a few others support the idea, how about a new catagory for historical fiction short-ish stories?

 

[Rob]

Yes that would be good as we wouldn't be annoying anyone with our stories in other threads,what do you reckon Brad?.

Rob

 

[Louis Badolato]

I have enjoyed all of the stories posted, especially the WWI story about the slaughter of the innocents and the last tale of William Wallace. Thank you all for your brilliant and well researched tales!

 

[Rob]

Thank you Louis,i appreciate that.

Rob

 

[jazzeum]

How about a book, then, that we could call the "Treefrog's Short Stories of History"?

 

[Harrytheheid]

I have enjoyed all of the stories posted, especially the WWI story about the slaughter of the innocents and the last tale of William Wallace. Thank you all for your brilliant and well researched tales!

Thanks for your kind comments Louis. Very much appreciated.
I think if we could have a new category in the forum for short stories, it might encourage other members to contribute.
I've absolutely nothing to do today workwise. So now that I've mastered this Arabic keyboard I'm using with it's weird QWERTY layout, I might get around to posting another one. Think I might try an earlier era than Wallace. We'll see.

 

[Eazy]

Yeah good work Harry, keep em coming if you can. It's not easy even writing short stuff like this.
You still have to come up with a story structure and fit it into a post length.

 

[Harrytheheid]

Yeah good work Harry, keep em coming if you can. It's not easy even writing short stuff like this.
You still have to come up with a story structure and fit it into a post length.

Eazy, thanks for the kind comments.
Please can you explain what you mean by story structure and post length. Probably me being dumb, but I don't quite understand what you're meaning.
I've never written anything like this before (just technical reports and jokes), and its coming straight out of my heid. So if these's any guidance you can offer that'll improve things, then all suggestions shall be gratefully received.

 

[Eazy]

I just mean you have to fit a beginning, middle and end into a very short post and it all needs to make sense. That's a good skill.

See that's the danger of having an English Lit degree! It serves no purpose other than critiquing grammar!

 

[Harrytheheid]

I just mean you have to fit a beginning, middle and end into a very short post and it all needs to make sense. That's a good skill.

See that's the danger of having an English Lit degree! It serves no purpose other than critiquing grammar!

Think I see what you mean. I'm possibly using too much, he says this then he says that, to explain the storyline. Hmmmm, need to read more fiction and see how real writers develop their stories.
Was aware that the posts are very long. That's why I'm breaking the latest one up into 3 or 4 episodes. Gives me a chance to see how the latest one is received an'all.

 

[Eazy]

I think they are very cool little stories and what I like about them is the fact you are giving a bit of historical info too on a period I for one know very little about.

 

[Harrytheheid]

I think they are very cool little stories and what I like about them is the fact you are giving a bit of historical info too on a period I for one know very little about.

Yeah but I like your's and Robs too, and no thats not an ego rub, its just the truth. I hope we are going to get other contributers as well. I think its a great sub section of the forum that could really take off if we get enough people interested.