War Made Them Bleed

The overwhelming sound of chaos enveloped them every day; gunfire rained in all directions while artillery thundered in the distance. The greedy Anchormen were in a constant game of tug of war that never ceased. Their strong pulls lengthened the game, but burned everyone in between. Their teammates were disposable to them and their cries of pain met deaf ears.

The fighting built and built over time; the two soldiers expected everything to end in an explosive triumph, but only darkness and silence waited for them. That day was an especially gruesome and brutal fight; the sound of powerful weapons blocked their thoughts while the stench of death bombarded their noses. They held onto their sleek rifles with an iron grip as it was the only way their hands wouldn’t shake from the terror.

They each had hopes and dreams before the violence started; one wanted to open a bakery, while the other wanted to work with animals. They never wanted anything like this; every time they pulled the trigger and a body dropped, a part of their soul was killed as well. The two men weren’t brothers in arms, but rather, enemies. They had nothing against the other, but war dictated that one of them had to die for the greater good. They were about to pull the trigger when a sudden explosion made everything go blank. 

***

A few hours passed and everything calmed down. The eyes of a brown-haired man snapped open. He quickly tried to access his surroundings, but his battered body stopped him. The small bit he could move only served to jingle his dog tags. According to what they read, his name was John. That was the name he grew up with, but it felt like he died a long time ago. A few more hours passed and John felt a little more energy come into his body.

He was able to get up this time. The sun was slipping below the horizon; the orange glow sent comforting rays bouncing in all directions. The sight would have been beautiful any other time if it wasn’t for the countless dead soldiers covering the ground; some of them had mangled bodies with missing limbs, while others wore a terrified look on their faces as if they were alive. 

He looked around once more and saw something else; an enemy soldier was lying on his back while looking at John; he looked to be a few years younger than him. The soldier’s eyes weren’t filled with rage or hate; they only displayed fear and pain. Protocol taught John to take care of the enemy, but the endless expanse of death and destruction said otherwise. He walked over to the soldier and noticed several cuts and bruises scattered on the black-haired man; it was as if he was used as a sharpening block and a punching bag. John kneeled down while taking his pack off. He drank some water before giving some to the man. John noticed the man’s dog tags were sticking out. He looked at it closely and found it read, “Sam”.

John treated Sam’s wound to the best of his ability. After everything was finished, Sam looked like he was wearing a cheap Halloween outfit. He fell asleep shortly after, which allowed John to check his personal injuries. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, he was in good shape. He looked at the sky once again. The sun had slipped below the horizon, taking its warm rays away from the battlefield. The stench of death, the cold wind, and the silence was the only things that remained.

John set up a makeshift tarp shelter to keep the wind out; the icy stabs were reduced to just pricks. After that, he took out a sleeping bag and pulled it up to his waist while sitting up. Sam had woken up with more energy than before, which let him set up his own bag as well. The two men got out some MREs, activated the flameless heater with water, and wolfed down their food. It was a simple comfort, but it made all the difference to them. John and Sam soon grew tired and drifted away to sleep.

***

The bright yellow glow from the sun woke them up. Not only did it warm their bodies and their spirits, but it also told them they survived another day. Sam’s injuries were healing nicely and he was able to move on his own. John was taking down the tarps when Sam spoke.

“Why did you help me?” He asked.

John seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before answering.

“I’d rather have a supposed enemy around than be left alone,” he replied. 

The two men put everything back into their packs and headed away from the field. White clouds soon rolled in and dropped thick snowflakes that rode on the wind; it collected on the numerous fallen shoulders around them, quickly covering their bodies. John and Sam’s heavy boots made a crunch every step they took on the freshly fallen snow. Thirty minutes passed before they finally found themselves away from the field of death. 

Thick pine trees occupied their view; their vibrant green branches buckled from the heavy snow.

“Ok, these trees will provide good cover against the wind. It would be a good idea to ride out the storm here,” John said.

“I agree,” Sam replied. 

They continued deep into the tree line before they found a place to set up their camp; it was a flat circular piece of ground surrounded by thick trees in all directions except for one. John set up the tarps while Sam organized their supplies. After a few moments, the tarps were secure and blocked the piercing wind. The two men made some hot drinks to ease their nerves. Neither of them had an elaborate plan, they just wanted to live. The storm would eventually pass and they would move on with their lives.

War made them bleed and even though they survived, their wounds would never fully heal.