Fic: Death's Rain II: In The Trenches (1/1)
Title: Death’s Rain II: In The Trenches (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Lex, Kent Nelson, Carter Hall, Steve Trevor
Continuity: Smallville
Genres: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical
Rating: R
Warnings: Mention of World War I atrocities.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Lex remembers when he was able to visit Clark in the trenches during World War I.
Date Of Completion: March 29, 2020
Date Of Posting: November 8, 2020
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 2642
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Please remember the Veterans! This AU does change Clark’s powers, as in he’s not as powerful as in canon. The series can be found here.
Surrounded by earth,
Damp and dismal,
Breathe the soldiers
Of the Noble Cause,
With gas masks
Clipped to belts.
Cold food
And cold feet,
Bombs bursting in air
To light the night.
They endure,
To fight
The War
To End All Wars.
Sergeant Patrick O’Grady
The Fighting 69th
“Death’s Rain”
1918 C.E.
September 1918
Lex rocked gently as he held vigil by Clark’s bed. The Kent house was quiet, as Martha tended to an ill Jonathan in their bedroom.
Quiet was the order of the day as Spanish influenza swept across the land. Everything was closed: schools, stores, and banks, the latter allowed to open only a few hours a day. Other exceptions included the apothecary and greengrocer, all with restricted hours. Calling on people was strongly discouraged, and even church services were severely curtailed. People wore masks when they ventured out to pick up food and medicine. It was an eerie situation.
Lex had received healing powers from the meteor shower that had rained down on Smallville two decades ago. Those healing powers were serving him well during this pandemic.
Funny how you fell ill to this influenza, Clark. You arrived in that meteor shower in a ship like something out of H.G. Wells. You have greater strength and speed then the average human, better hearing and eyesight, and you don’t get sick often, maybe a cold once in awhile. That’s why this influenza hitting you so hard was surprising.
Lex felt unsettled by this pandemic, especially in relation to Clark. He wished that he could do more, but like many people with sick loved ones, he could only hope and wait.
As Clark slept restlessly, Lex’s gaze fell on a photograph on Clark’s dresser. They were both in Army uniform with their arms around each other and smiling at the camera.
It wasn’t so long ago, but it seems like a lifetime ago.
& & & & & &
May 1918
Lex walked with Major Kent Nelson, a taciturn officer who took his duties seriously. Blond and good-looking, he looked like a poster boy for the American Expeditionary Force.
All wholesome and clean-cut.
Even with his red hair lost in the meteor shower, he had never been the All-American boy. He did not quite trust them, at least until he got to know Clark.
“Captain Luthor, keep your head up. We’re approaching the trenches.”
“Right, Major.”
Lex could see No Man’s Land up ahead. Even from this distance he could see the mud, barbed wire, and occasional tree with its leaves and branches shot off. Sandbags indicated the location of the trenches.
Nelson brought Lex to a ladder that led down into the trench. The major went down first, followed by Lex.
Lex could immediately smell damp earth. He was uncomfortably reminded of a grave.
“This way,” Nelson said.
They walked over wooden boards that were supposed to keep the men’s boots dry, but there was always water in the trenches, especially after rain. Rats scurried away, kicking up mud as they ran. The trenches wound around for miles, but fortunately Nelson led Lex for only fifty feet.
“Ah, Sergeant Hall. Can you tell me where Captain Trevor is?” Nelson asked.
The hawkish features of the sergeant gave him a surly look, but he answered calmly, “Just around the bend, sir.”
Ladders were positioned every thirty feet, and around the corner a blond officer was standing on one, using a periscope to survey the battlefield.
“Captain Trevor.”
The officer turned around. “Hello, Major.” Blue eyes looked curiously at Lex.
“This is Captain Alexander Luthor from Washington. He’s part of the Munitions Research Department.”
“Hello, Captain.” The blond held out his hand and he and Lex shook hands. “Captain Steve Trevor.”
“Hello, Captain Trevor.”
“Captain Luthor is here to observe. He wants to see the effectiveness of our weapons and hopefully get ideas for new ones.”
Steve looked interested. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, Captain.”
Kent Nelson said, “I’ll leave you to it, gentlemen.”
Salutes were exchanged and Nelson went back down the trench.
“Okay, Captain, let’s…”
“Call me Lex. Too many captains around here.”
Steve laughed. “Call me Steve. So, you’re a weapons expert?”
“So they tell me. I’ll have to check out your guns and shells, but I want a view from the trenches.”
“You’ll get a rats-eye view here. Just don’t poke your head up over the parapet. A German sniper will blow it off.”
“Thanks for the, um, heads-up.”
Steve grinned. “We’d like to keep yours on, yes.” A loud boom! startled Lex. “The Germans are starting bombardment.” A shell screamed overhead and both men ducked. “Don’t worry, we rarely get a direct hit.”
“Great.”
“Have you seen the tanks and flamethrowers? They are weapons our grandfathers sure didn’t face at Shiloh or Gettysburg.”
“Yes, I helped develop the tank.”
“You did? Pity the Germans did, too.”
Lex noticed the lines of weariness around Steve’s eyes. He said, “I know it can’t be easy in these trenches.”
“Easy? It’s hell, Lex. If the shells and rats don’t get us, the lice will. Or trench foot. And we’ve been over here just a matter of months. Imagine the poor bastards who have been doing this since 1914. And that doesn’t count the cherry on top of the terror sundae, the poison gas.”
“There are different kinds of gasses, right?”
“Oh, yeah, though mustard gas seems to be the most popular. Scorches the lungs.”
“Is the gas used often?”
“Enough for us to keep gas masks handy.” The bombardment was continuous, setting Lex’s nerves on edge. “Have you worked on gas weapons?”
“No. I’m more a tank guy.”
Not that the boys in Washington haven’t tried to get me to come up with something.
Steve nodded slowly. “Will you be studying the poison weapons?”
“You mean if the Germans send some over?”
“Well, we have a stockpile, too. Just ask.”
The weight of his gas mask attached to his belt felt heavy to Lex. “I’ll do that.” The boom-boom-boom of the German’s big guns had been joined by those of the American and British armies’ guns. A shell screamed overhead, exploding so close that dirt rained down on them in the trench. “Uh, I need to ask, do you have a man named Clark Kent in this unit?”
Steve smiled. “Yes, I do. Friend of yours?”
“Yes, we’re both from Smallville, Kansas.”
“A lot of my boys are. Good, corn-fed boys.”
“They eat their corn flakes. Cream of Wheat, too.” Lex smirked.
“You mean Dr. Graham’s healthy cereals?”
“He invented the Graham cracker. I think Kellogg invented corn flakes.”
“Guaranteed to keep you regular?”
“Guaranteed to keep you from, uh, self-polluting.”
Steve grinned. “Private Kent ought to be around the next bend.” Steve returned to the ladder, poking the periscope up.
“Thanks.”
Lex walked along the boards, taking the next dogleg as he passed men listlessly sitting up against the walls, smoking crude cigarettes or playing cards. Sentries stood on the ladders with periscopes to track German movements. Lex recognized one of the sentries.
“Private Kent!”
Startled, Clark nearly fell off the ladder. He turned around, expecting an officer and finding, “Lex!”
Lex grinned and they embraced. “How ‘re you doing, Private?”
“Oh, okay, considering.”
Clark looked tired. That seemed to be the usual state of everyone at the front. It was doubtful anyone got much sleep.
The glory of war.
“What are you doing here?”
“Research trip. Evaluate the efficiency of our weapons and see what the Germans have got.”
Clark’s smiled faded. “You’ll find plenty on both sides.”
A heavy fusillade of shells rained down. Everyone scrambled away from that section of trench and waited for the shells to stop. The bombardment continued but picked another area to chew up.
“Welcome to the war,” Clark said wryly.
In that moment, Lex desperately wanted to kiss him. Instead he settled for a light punch on the shoulder.
& & & & & &
Lex spent sometime with the men manning the gun batteries, watching them load and fire the shells over to the German side. He studied the shells stacked by the guns, and talked to the battery captains. He was especially impressed with a short little man with thick glasses, a Harry Truman from Missouri. The guy knew his stuff.
At the Command Post, Lex discussed the poison weapons with the command staff. He made a note to visit a field hospital as soon as possible to observe the effects of the gas.
He spent as much time with Clark as he could. Under the guise of observation, he was able to spend chunks of time that give him an understanding of what the troops were going through in their hell-on-earth.
One morning Lex persuaded a soldier to take a picture of him and Clark as they threw their arms around each other’s shoulders and smiled. Clark was always happy to have an excuse to smile, and it was probably pretty rare around here, Lex thought sadly.
Afterwards, Clark was able to sit down by the wall of the trench and started cleaning his Enfield rifle. Lex sat down next to him. The artillery bombardment was unceasing. A rat ran over Lex’s boots and he jumped.
Clark grinned. “Makes the mice back home look charming.”
Lex snorted. He looked up at the sky as a biplane flew over the battlefield. Its motor made a distinct noise as the pilot flew high enough to avoid German gunfire.
“Probably a scout,” Clark said. “If he plans to bomb, we’ll hear it.”
“You’ll hear it.”
Clark smiled. “You will, too.”
The drone of the plane’s motor faded. “Guess he was just a scout.”
“Guess so.”
Lex watched Clark carefully clean his gun. “How are you doing?”
“Okay.” Clark sighted down the barrel. “We’re not exactly in Kansas anymore.”
Lex smiled. “Sure, Toto.”
Clark’s hands stopped cleaning. He was very still as if listening to something. He spoke one word. “Move.”
Lex did not question the order; he just obeyed it. Seconds later a huge shell slammed into the section of wall he and Clark had been leaning against. The wall began to crumble.
“Shore it up!” Sergeant Hall yelled.
Several men sprang to obey. Clark and Lex helped, too. The trench was saved from collapsing. Lex figured that Clark’s strength was holding the majority of the weight but no one noticed in the chaos of the moment.
“Whew,” Lex said.
He and Clark found a new place to sit. Dusk fell and stars began to come out.
“Funny how the world can still be beautiful even though we humans do our damnedest to mess it up,” Lex said.
Clark smiled. “I wonder what’s out there.”
Lex knew that Clark was wondering where he had come from.
Must be an Earth-like planet. He can breathe our air and eat our food.
“I wonder if they have war,” Clark said softly.
“They might.”
“I suppose.” Clark sighed.
If your people are like humans, they know war.
The boom-boom of the artillery sounded distant. Utterly exhausted, Lex fell asleep.
& & & & & &
Lex awoke, stiff and sore. His stomach grumbled.
“Sounds like you need breakfast,” Clark said with a smile. “Have some of my rations.”
Lex took the tin cup and spoon Clark handed to him. He scooped up what looked like ground-up meat and made a face.
“It’s cold. Don’t you get hot food?”
“Sometimes.” Clark ate some hardtack. “The cooks do their best, but they have to stay behind the lines.”
Lex ate the rest of the mush. “Got anything to drink?”
“Some coffee.”
Lex drank from Clark’s tin cup. “Not very hot.” He grimaced. “Cold food and drink. Lovely.”
“This isn’t Delmonico’s, Lex.”
“Ha.” Lex stood, stretching his back. “I gotta hit the latrine.”
“Keep your head down.”
Lex snorted. He found the ladder leading out of the trenches and after visiting the latrine, dropped by the C.P.
“Hello, Captain. How’s the observation going?” Kent Nelson asked.
“Pretty well, Major. Anything on for today?”
Nelson glanced over at the trio of officers in the corner. “There’s still discussion going on.”
“For what?”
Nelson shook his head. “Can’t say.”
Lex frowned but did not push. He returned to the trenches.
& & & & & &
After an equally-unsatisfactory lunch hours later, Lex took a periscope and surveyed the German lines. There were no signs of any Germans, but no doubt they were observing the same safety precautions as the Allies. Even a hand over the sandbags could attract a sniper’s attention.
Some audacious birds flew over No Man’s Land, unable to find any threes with branches to perch on. The artillery bombardment was getting louder.
“Okay, gentlemen, positions.” Steve Trever’s voice was behind Lex.
Lex turned around and saw Steve and Sergeant Hall in full battle mode. Clark and the rest of the doughboys prepared their weapons, putting their helmets on and lacing up their boots tighter.
“What’s going on?” Lex asked.
“Over-the-top,” Steve said grimly. “Fix bayonets.”
“Out there?” Lex was appalled.
“That’s the rumor,” said a soldier flippantly.
Lex wanted to rail against the stupidity of such action, but the men knew it and did not need an officer to point it out. Instead he went to Clark.
“I’m going with you.”
“Oh, no, you’re not.”
Lex blinked. “Um, what did you just…?”
“No, Lex.” Clark’s eyes were like chips of emerald. “You’re not trained for this. We need total focus. Please don’t come.”
Lex’s frustration mounted but he tamped it down. “Okay.”
Relief softened Clark’s gaze. “Good.”
“All right, men, saddle up!” said Steve. “Over-the-top!”
The men of the 18th Infantry Regiment yelled as they climbed up the ladders and plunged into No Man’s Land. A few Rebel yells were mixed in.
Lex climbed up a ladder and watched the men run across the ground pockmarked with shell craters. The Germans began to fire shells and opened up with submachine guns.
Lex’s fingers grew white as they gripped the ladder. His eyes were riveted on Clark, who was easy to spot. He was taller than most of his fellow soldiers. He could outrun any of them but kept his pace steady as Captain Trevor and Sergeant Hall led their troops. Men screamed as machine gun bullets tore through vulnerable flesh, and Lex watched in horror as an artillery shell hit a man, leaving red mist where his head had been.
Nauseated, Lex watched as the men crawled under barbed wire, and considered it a miracle when no one got snagged. He was shaking with tension, hoping that there would be no more fatalities, but if they could make it to the German lines, hand-to-hand combat would be vicious.
The machine gun fire proved withering and the Americans retreated. They dragged the wounded back with them and Clark carried a man in a fireman’s carry. As the soldiers reached their trenches, Lex helped bring the wounded down. He nearly grabbed Clark as he aided with his wounded man.
First-aid workers applied tourniquets and dressings and brought the wounded to ambulances, the drivers rushing their patients to field hospitals behind the lines.
Blood was soaking Clark’s tunic. Lex asked anxiously, “Are you all right?”
“Not my blood.”
The shell bombardment continued. Clark fell on Lex as a shell came perilously close.
“This is madness,” Lex whispered.
“Surely is.”
Lex wanted to wrap his arms around Clark and never let go.
& & & & & &
The Present
Lex sighed. After the disastrous attempts to storm the German lines, there would be only a short time before the regiment would fight at Cantigny, Chateau-Thierry and Belleau Wood.
Lex took one final look at the photograph of him and Clark in France and turned his attention to Clark.
War and pestilence. What’s next, famine?
Lex put his hand over Clark’s. It had been a long way to Tipperary and back.
Strange times.
Lex continued rocking in his chair as the wind howled across the prairie.
reliablecounter blog
This story can also be read on AO3.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)