Hell Hounds

June 1918

The Belleau Woods was the last battle of the Great War. American and Allied forces pushed against the German might as the allies advance towards Berlin. Both sides were locked in a stalemate, and either side knew that taking the woods would be a game-changer. History says the Marines defeated the Germans in what was called one of the bloodiest and most ferocious battles U.S. forces would fight in the war. What they don’t tell you is how.

Deep in the woods, the German soldiers dug in a defensive line between them and the Americans. For the next several hours, the men waited for their enemy to strike. For the past several days, they and the Americans had engaged in brutal close-quarter fighting. Both sides suffered heavy casualties. Something needed to happen to end the stalemate. The German command decided to set up machine-gun posts and artillery to defend against the Americans. As the Germans prepared, many men felt something watching them. Not by the Americans, but something else. As night approached, everyone got settled in the trenches and hunkered down for the night. The date was June 7th.

Not wanting to take any chances, the commander placed sentries along with the machine gun nest. At one post, brothers Peter and Randolf took turns operating the machine gun. Peter was the older brother and had enlisted as soon as Germany declared war. Randolf had recently finished his basic training and requested to join his brother’s unit. As they monitored their position, Peter decided to take a smoke break and leave his younger brother in charge.

“How can you smoke at a time like this?” Randolf rested his head against the butt of the gun. “It helps calm my nerves. Everyone is on edge. We haven’t seen the Americans for some time now. It’s unsettling.” Peter lit a cigarette.

“I agree, we’ve only heard those verdammt (damn) howls these past few nights. I thought there weren’t any wolves in these woods.” Peter takes another puff of the cigarette before tossing it on the ground.

“Looks like the Americans weren’t the only ones with bad intelligence.” As they talked amongst themselves, the brothers were unaware. Something was stalking the Germans. Something hungry for blood.

Suddenly, Peter heard rustling coming from the bushes. He grabbed his rifle and positioned himself next to his brother. “Did you hear that,” said Randolf. His finger was already on the trigger of the machine gun. Peter slowed his breathing and waited again to hear the noise. After a minute goes by, nothing. He couldn’t see anything in front of them because it was so dark. He then began to think that it’s his imagination. Then he heard that sound again, this time stronger and louder. Aiming, Peter was about to fire until he listened to the eerie sound of a loud howl. This deep howling caught them off guard, and from the darkness, two glowing eyes emerge.

“Peter, what the hell is that?” whispered Randolf. Fear was beginning to take hold of him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Peter tried to calm his brother.

“I don’t know, but we’re safe. Whatever that thing is, it has to go through a hail of bullets before it gets to us. Besides, Mom would kill me if something happened to you.” Randolf chuckled a bit, still uneasy about the eyes in front of them.

They weren’t the only ones who saw red in the night. All along the German line, men began shouting. Some said the eyes were to the east; others claimed they were coming from the west. This constant state of fear began to take hold of them. The night was long, and the torment was just beginning.

One soldier climbed up over the trenches to investigate. His friends handed him a dimly lit lantern to see. Walking a few steps forward, his hands began to tremble. His breath becomes erratic. Questions of doubt fill his mind. As he descended further into the darkness, he shined the light into the woods. Seeing nothing, he turned around and began to walk away. Suddenly he smelled a foul order from behind. He turned his head slightly over his right shoulder and felt something breathing down his neck. Petrified, his limbs go numb, and in an instant, he is violently pulled into the darkness, dropping the lantern. From the trenches, the others heard the piercing sounds of a struggle. Just then, a cry of despair filled the night. The sound of tearing flesh, bones breaking, and the wailing of their young comrade echoed through the night. The lingering and nauseating sounds were too much to bear. They all felt helpless. Whatever strength they had, it was taken over by absolute fear. As the cries ceased, an unsettling silence took over the trenches. Everyone held their breath.

“What’s that coming from the trees?” Everyone looked ahead and saw a large shadow approaching them. Suddenly, the dark figure emerged. It was taller than a man, covered in matted fur, walked upright, mouth full of fangs, small pointed ears, massive forearms, and bear-like hands and feet with excessively, curved claws. The beast’s fur was covered in blood and clutched in its right paw was the soldier’s half-eaten head. The creature tosses it back to the German soldiers before giving an evil chuckle as it melts away into the night.

No one wanted to go over and get the head as fear took hold of them. So the head just lay there, looking at them with its glossy eyes. Eyes full of immense anxiety.

Randolf was beyond scared; he was mortified. Nothing in his basic training had prepared them for this. Peter was also terrified. He had already seen many horrors during his time in the unit. What had just transpired was something else altogether, something unnatural.

“No one goes to sleep,” someone shouted in the trenches. “We need to remain vigilant at all times. Check your ammo and fix bayonets. We’re in for a fight now, boys.” Peter, Randolf, and others fixed bayonets and gathered all the ammo they had left. With every man waiting for the command to attack, Peter knew that this battle would not only decide the fate of the war but theirs as well.

“Any sign of them?” said Randolf sheepishly. Peter shakes his head. Since the recent sighting, it has been almost five hours of torment for the men. No one got any sleep for fear of being dragged away in the middle of the night. Peter had gone through all his cigarettes and has resorted to chewing on pieces of cigarette cartons to calm him. It was now early morning, June 8th, and dawn was fast approaching. Peter knew something had to happen. Whatever they saw and heard last night, those creatures would attack soon. However, after getting no sleep, he feels his eyes slowly drooping. Before he drifts off, he hears the snap of a fallen branch a hundred yards away from them. He jerks his head up and looks in the direction of the sound.

It is at this moment that he sees what has been tormenting him and his men. Across the German line, past a few trees was the outline of dark wolf-like creature slowly approaching them. Grabbing his rifle, he nudges his brother.

“Randolf, I see one. Behind the trees, a couple of yards away. Pass the word along.” Randolf quietly leaves his machine gun and spreads the word all along with their position. Slowly placing a round in the chamber, Peter sets his sights on his target. Looking down the rifle sight, he rests his finger on the trigger, waiting for the right moment. Randolf rushes back to his brother and stations himself on the machine gun.

“Everyone’s ready. On your command.”

“Good, because as soon as I fire, they are coming at us head-on. Once that happens, all the wrath of hell will be upon us.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

“If we get overrun, get out of the trenches and make for the forest’s edge behind us.”

“Alright then,” said Randolf calmly. “On your mark.” As the creature moves into Peter’s line of sight, he pulls the trigger and fires off a round from his rifle. “Ich habe dich Jetzt Dämon” (I have you now, demon). The bullet zips through the morning air and hits it target dead square in the head. It did nothing but cause the beast to YELP and jerk backward a bit. Quickly reloading another round in, Peter and others hear a blood-curdling roar echo throughout the forest. Before any have a chance to react, ten black figures come bursting through the trees and charge them. Blood and fury were in the air.

Without hesitation, Peter and Randolf begin firing their weapons.

“Offenes Feuer!” yelled Peter. Soon everyone was firing off rifles and machine guns, creating a hail of bullets in front of them. Some soldiers even managed to throw a couple of grenades, adding more destruction. As the fury of bullets and grenades barrage the attackers, Randolf notices that some of the beasts start dying. The young brother believes that they are winning. The other soldiers begin to see this, too, and stop firing. With smoke emanating from their guns and the beasts all lying dead, the young soldiers all begin to cheer. They had defeated their enemies. Randolf joins in the celebration.

However, Peter was not celebrating. Something was not sitting right with the older brother. This victory felt too easy. While everyone was cheering, Peter takes his rifle and goes to inspect the area where these creatures are. Kneeling beside the few dead and bullet-riddled carcasses, he notices in the soft soil, paw tracks of many many more going in different directions. “Where are the others?” He follows the roads in the path leading away from their position. The tracks are big. Very big like a bear would be but not as deep in the dirt. These creatures are fast and smart. It’s here that Peter begins to put it all together. They only sent a few to bait them. That means there’s still more out there—more watching them.

Suddenly, Peter hears a faint howling in the distance. Eyes widen with shock as the realization dawns on him. “Sie stehen hinter uns!” (They’re behind us). Running back to his men as fast as he can, he prays they are still alive. As he makes it back to their defensive line, he sees everyone was still celebrating. Firing his rifle in the air, he shouts at the others, trying to get their attention.

Sadly it was too late. Emerging from the trees behind them were the remaining beasts. Before they knew it, the monsters were among them. Chaos and destruction envelop them. Fearing for his brother, Peter runs over to their foxhole but does not find him. Terror was taking over him as he desperately searches for his brother. From behind, he hears the screams of men being torn to pieces. Making his way to the far end of the trenches, he finds two traumatized, and numb souls huddled together between a smoking machine gun and ammo crates. Their faces, pale as bed sheets, gave empty blanket stares.

“Has anyone seen Randolf?” said Peter, trying to catch his breath. One soldier, trying to gather his words, said he saw one of the creatures drag him away, still putting up a fight. Peter’s heart sank. He had failed to keep his brother safe.

“What do we do?” whimpered one soldier. Turning his head back around, Peter knew the beasts would return, hungry for survivors. They needed a plan, an escape plan. One of the men stuttered out, “The trucks, they’re back at the camp. If we can reach them, we can escape.”

“How!? We won’t make it in time,” said the other. Opening a box of Stein Grenades, he clips as many has he could around his belt. As the two look in confusion, Peter explains his plan to them. “I’ll cause a distraction and lead them away from the trenches. Once I’m gone, go and get to the trucks as fast as you can and get out of here.”

“What about you?” Peter chambers another round into his rifle. “I’ll be fine, just wait for my signal.” Taking a deep breath, he hurls himself over trenches and into the open field. Grabbing two from his waist, he removes the safety pin and throws them in different directions. The explosions grab the beasts’ attention. Grinning like a madman, he shouts at them.

“Hier drüben seid ihr bastarde!” (Over here you bastards!). Peter fires off a round into the air. And just as quickly, the beasts all begin to charge towards him. Seeing this as the signal, the remaining soldiers immediately leave the trenches to run back to camp. With the others gone, Peter runs deep into the dense forest. Ducking over branches and jumping over fallen trees, he yells at the top of his lungs, still keeping the beasts’ attention. Throwing the last of his grenades, Peter stumbles over rock and tumbles down a slight hill. Landing hard on his back, he lifts his head and sees a jeep with a white star on the door. Scrambling to his feet, he discovers that he is in the American encampment. However, something about the camp was bizarre. All the equipment was still here. Guns, tents, medical supplies, everything was still here, except for soldiers. Where were the Americans? As he searches the area, he enters the officer’s tent and finds a classified document titled: OPERATION LYCAN. Opening the tan file, he began to read and discovered the horrifying truth. Finding himself invested in the information, he failed to pick up a familiar foul odor.

“Aren’t we nosey,” said a deep voice. Peter quickly turns around and sees the leader of the beasts with his men behind him. Here, Peter was able to get a full view of what had been attacking his fellow men. It had a sizeable wolf-like head with small straight ears, a broad chest, massive paws, and a large mouth that exposed huge teeth. Its fur was red and had a white streak down the back. He quickly recognized who it was, the familiar red stained fur. Peter glares at the monster as it calmly picks bits of flesh from his teeth.

“What the hell are you?” shouts Peter. The beast looks at him, smiles wickedly, and shows a pair of dog tags around his neck. He rips them off and tosses them at the German. Catching them, it read:

ROBERT H. HOMES

AKA “BIG BAD WOLF”

USMC

“That’s impossible,” said Peter. He told himself this couldn’t be true. But it was. Throwing the tags aside, he looks at the wolf directly in the eyes. “So, what happens now?”

“My men have already seen to your friends’ demise, you’ve lost, German.” The wolf laughs evilly.

“So this is how it ends?” says Peter.

“For you, that is. We won.” Peter shakes his head to the wolf.

“Not yet you haven’t, I’m still alive. And from what I gather, you seem to be the alpha. I kill you, and your wolves will be leaderless.” The mighty wolf chuckled at Peter’s threat. As he sets himself on all fours, he gives one last remark to the young soldier.

“Tell me, German, do you even know how to kill us?”

Peter clutches his rifle tightly in his hands, eyes full of rage. Before he charges, he answered the beast’s question.

“I’m gonna cut your damn head off, see if that works.”

Hours after the battle of Belleau Woods, the two survivors escaped the forest and made their way back to German command. When asked what happened, the young soldiers stuttered out a single phrase.

“Höllenhundes.”

HellHounds.

TITLE: Hell Hounds

GENRE: Historical Fiction, Horror

Age Range: 18+

Word Count: 2644

Author Name: Gabriel Garcia

Reason: It is something unique that will grab readers of the horror genre and those who enjoy history.

Hook/Synopsis: In the finals months of the Great War, a band of German soldiers must fight on the defensive as they are besieged by creatures long thought to be myths.

Target Audience: Young adults

Bio: I am a college graduate. I have studied abroad in China during my undergrad. I have a passion for writing. While I am a novice writer, I consider myself to be a storyteller.

Platform: Instagram-Arbiter283, Inkitt-Gabriel14

Education: College degree BA, in the process of earning masters in History

Experience: Amateur/novice writer

Personality/writing style: My writing style is a mix of descriptive and narrative. I enjoy reading historical fiction and listening to music. I would describe myself as a person who is easy going and fun to be around.

Hobbies: I am a fan of DC, Assassins Creed, and Star Wars, and much more. I like to write historical fiction, sci-fi, thriller, adventure, etc.

Hometown: San Jacinto, CA

Age: 24