SCP-3456

The following section contains journal entries from Dave Harkand, an infantryman in the British Expeditionary Force during World War I. This journal describes several SCP-3456 sightings over the course of The Battle of the Somme.

June 27th, 1916

Finally arrived at the front! I picked up this little journal while I was in Paris, figured I might as well keep record of my heroics on the battlefield. Quite chuffed to finally be in action, though it seems I'm the only one. Most of these blokes have been fighting for a couple months now, and they look downright dreadful. Mud all over the uniform, and their faces are so pale, look like they haven't eaten or slept for months. Commanding officer is rather shit hot[5] for battle, it's quite admirable.

July 2nd, 1916

Woke in the early hours of the morning. Ground was shaking, damn near shook me out into the muck on the dugout floor. Poor blokes in the bunks on the other side looked liked they had seen a ghoul. Pair of Northern Irish lads from Kitchener’s Armies if I remember right. Kept muttering about a Nuckatee? Must be some Mick[6] thing. Were both gripping a gold crucifix. Was about to lay my head back down and get a wink of shuteye when I ended up scrambling into the mud. Loudest damn thing I'd ever heard. Thought it was the Hun Artillery bout to mark us with a whizz-bang, only problem was, never did get the bang. This morning asked our brass hat about the Artillery barrage. Gave me a funny look, and asked what the bloody hell I was talking about.

July 2nd 1916

We went looking for the dud that must have come down last night. Didn't find it, but found something even the amen wallah[7] probably can't explain. Strangest looking crater I've ever seen, was shaped like a giant hoof.

July 3rd, 1916

Huns made a push today, first time they've moved in our region. First time I'd ever seen combat. It's not romantic and adventurous. It's terrifying, and deadly. My hands can't stop shaking, already messed up the chit[8] once. The Huns had our outfit up against a wall, damn near overran us, didn't help that it rained the night before making our fox hole filled to the brim with muck. One of the Fritz came right at me…just…I put one right between his eyes. Fell right at the edge of the trench, and had to look him in the eyes, poor lad couldn't have been more than 17 or 18.

Martin, one of those Irish lads, is gone. Was unlike anything I'd ever seen, one moment he's standing shooting at the Huns, all of the sudden, the mud starts boiling. Fore anyone can react, Mud just flies everywhere, everyone else is suddenly knocked down off their feet. I look up, the wanker's just gone. Wasn't even body parts left. Haven't told anyone…but I'd swear that there was bones coming up from underneath him right before the mud went flying. His mate, Brendan, was digging in the mud for hours, looking for the crucifix.

July 14th & 15th, 1916

Huns tried to push this morning in the rain. I was in the machine gun nest with Brendan, the other Irish chap in my unit. They kept coming and coming, and getting stuck in the mud, and I just kept shooting.

Sun is rising. I'm on watch till 8, at least that's what the Brasshat said. I've started losing track of how much times been passing. There's something out there. Something lurking out in the mud and dead Huns. Nearly dozed off last night, listening to the moans of the blighty wounded stuck out in No-man's land. Poor bastards got left behind. Saw something out of the edge of my vision, something big. Couldn't quite make it out, it was much darker than usual, overcast sky was obscuring the full moon. Heard a couple of screams, but whatever it was was gone before my flare hit the sky.

July 30th, 1916

I've been seeing them at the edge of my vision, ever since that first night. They're huge, but they move so damn fast that they're gone before I can get a clear look. Or at least, that's how it was mucking out until today. Thick fog and mist rolled in this morning, blanketed everything. We figured the Huns might use it to launch another push. Bastards have been pushing non-stop since the 20th. Saw it, through the fog, looked like a shadow, hiding in the mist. Some sort of Horse like creature, with a something dragging along the ground, and a giant lump where the rider would sit…cept the lump started moving. Could have sworn it was a person, or something that looked like a person. Sat up, and the things dragging along the ground reached out in front of it and picked up something, thought it was a couple dead Jerry's…until they started squirming. I'll never forget the noise it made. Louder than a banshee, shrill and twisted.

It looked right at me. Two pairs of red glowing orbs.

August 5th

Brendan calls them Nuckelavees. Won't tell me much more than that. Beginning to understand why all these blokes looked so terrified when I first arrived.

August 13th

Bloody hell. Bloody hell. They're nightmares. Been on watch two nights in a row, one just…appeared right there, right in front of me. 20 feet, had to be at least 20 feet away. Towered into the sky. Got my flare to go off in time to see it pick up a couple wounded Jerry's in the mud. They don't have bloody skin. There's just muscle, and fat. The thing on its back…wasn't human, no way could it be human. Had no skin either, no legs, just merged straight into the horse at the stomach. I took a couple shots at it with my rifle…did absolutely nothing, like I was shooting it with a sling shot. It stopped soon as my flare reached its highest point, and turned. Looked straight down at me, both the horse and the…thing on its back. It smiled.

August 17th 1916

Been assigned night watch the past four nights straight. Tried to tell the brass hat about the nuckelavees. Didn't believe me. Said it was the shell shock playing with my head. Had to put a sock in it, and keep on.

It keeps coming back. Every night. Same spot, 20 feet in front of me. Picks up wounded Jerry's, turns and looks…and then it's gone. It's playing with me, I'm sure of it. Last night there was another one too. Four of those things on its back, did the same damn thing.

7:00 A.M. August 20th 1916

Jerry's made a big push yesterday. Rained two days ago, all day, so the muck was deep. We were on the machinegun again in the pillbox. So many of them in no-man's land last night, couldn't tell the dead from the living. Haven't slept in six days. There were five tonight. Three of them had more than one of those…things on their back. The one that keeps coming back…dropped something. Saw it shine in the flare light.

10:00 A.M. August 20th 1916

Went out into the mud where it appears every night. Found Martin's crucifix and tin hat.

August 20th 1916

They're getting bold, saw one out in broad daylight. Pretty sure it was the same one. Buried itself in the mud, just lying there…waiting.

We're going over the top at three. There are more out there now…all doing the same thing…god help us.

Official records show that Dave Harkand was declared MIA on August 20th, following a failed British counterattack against the German trenches. Additional queries have revealed that one Brendan O'Malley within the same unit was also reported MIA on the same date. Harkand's Journal was found 20 feet from the edge of the German trenches, two months after he disappeared.