The Captain nodded and quickly we followed him in through the bombed side of the stone building and down into the crypt.
“Well, men. We’ll shelter here for the night and in the morning, we’ll try to work out where we are and how to find the Resistance Movement. We don’t know if there are any Germans nearby so we can’t risk lighting a fire”.
Great, I thought. So, frozen and bone weary, Johnno, me and Porter huddled together to keep warm.
Captain Booth flipped the cover off his watch and peered at its luminous face. “It’s twenty-three hundred hours” he said. “You’ll each do a two-hour guard duty through the night”. He nodded toward Johnno. “Take the first shift, Stern”.
“Yes sir”. I could tell by Johnno’s voice he wasn’t too happy with the timing of his roster, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Orders are orders.
The Captain’s gaze swept around the chamber. “Move to that corner position, Private. You can cover both entrances from there, and at one hundred hours Clark will relieve you”.
“Yes sir” we both answered. Johnno took up his position while I settled against Porter and tried to sleep. I don’t know how long I slept for, but I was shocked back to reality by a high-pitched scream that frightened the hell out of me.
Wide awake, the four of us scrambled up, rifles swinging, trying to get a bead on the enemy – but there was nobody in the crypt with us.
“What is the matter with you, Stern?” the Captain hissed. “Do you want to bring the whole German Army down on our heads”?
We all turned to Johnno. In the pale light of the moon we could just see him. He was backed up as far as he could against the wall and he was shaking and jabbering like he was having a fit, or something.
“He’s here. He’s come to get me” he babbled, eyes wide, staring.
"What are you talking about, man”? demanded the Captain. “Who’s here to get you”?
“The Devil! I heard him outside. The sound of his cloven hooves scraping on the graves, getting closer. Look!” Johnno screamed, pointing. “He’s here. It’s the Devil”.
We spun around and looked at the doorway. The moon silhouetted an outline there. My legs went weak and I staggered as I recognised the long-curved horns, the animal shaped head, that odd, misshapen body. Johnno’s dream!
It was a premonition. Bile rose in my throat and I wanted to scream out to the creature “Don’t pick me. I’m not ready to die” but I couldn’t. Time seemed to have ceased moving for me – we all seemed suspended in time.
‘It’ moved first. Stepping into the doorway, it bleated once, then nimbly clambered over the fallen stonework and disappeared back into the mist. I was the first to react.
“You bloody idiot, Johnno” I yelled. “It was a goat you heard. Not the Devil - a bloody Billy goat”! Relief surged through me in waves. I wasn’t going to die after all. “You and your dream” I said turning to him. “That’s the last dream you’ll ever tell me”. There was no reply.
“Johnno”? I took a closer look. He was slumped against the crypt’s wall, slack jawed, eyes staring, lifeless.
