Twinkle and shine

The night sky was clear of any clouds, leaving the only thing to block Lachlan’s view of the glistening sky being his very own breath, which danced in a cloud from the cool night air. It was rare to see the sky so open as it was now, and he found himself questioning the last time he ever got to see the sky like this. He traced the outskirts of Orion, counting and memorising the stars of the constellation before moving to Taurus, counting and memorising before moving onto Cassiopeia and repeating the same thing over and over again which each constellation he found. 

A cluster of distant booms forced Lachlan to tear his gaze from the sky and towards the deafening sounds. Unable to see the damage due to the mud wall in front of him, Lachlan was only able to imagine what the bombardment must look like. The mortar bombs lighting up the dark night as they landed inches from the German trenches, clearing a path for the British forces to eagerly rush towards their deaths. And he would be among them. 

It was tense in the trench, some unable to stop moving, too eager to go over and get it done with, the anticipation slowly eating them alive. Some were trying to make themselves as small as possible, crouched with their heads hanging on their chests, as though believing that if they were able to make themselves small enough, then maybe, just maybe, they could get away from all of this. And then there were those who stood like statues, their faces vacant, their minds elsewhere. Lachlan was one of those.

“Blimey, its freezing!” Lachlan, and many other startled as the voice, turning their heads towards the culprit of the sudden noise. Arthur was a short, young, blond man with freckles that littered his face and body like a constellation.

Arthur was one of the most disliked men in the company. With crude jokes, cruel observations and the ability to look seemingly unmoved by anything caused him to be hated by nearly every man in the company, a fact that Arthur of course wore like a badge of honour. He also happened to be Lachlan’s only friend in this Hell on Earth.

“Reckon they’ll give us a tough time?” Arthur asked Lachlan as he rubbed his arms to scare off the bite of the chilly air. 

“Don’t they always?” Lachlan replied, unable to hide the bitterness from his voice.

Arthur barked a laugh, before slinging his arm around Lachlan’s shoulders as though they were having a day at the park and weren’t about to charge a bunch of Germans who all wanted him dead. The tense situation did nothing to deter Arthur’s jokes or obnoxious laughter, even in the middle of battle, Arthur could find himself laughing and joking. It was one, if not the best, re-deeming quality about him. The brief momentary solace was broken as their Sargent stalked past, bellowing out for his men to prepare themselves.  They were about to go over. Arthur quickly withdrew his arm from Lachlan’s shoulder, the sudden lack of warmth reminding Lachlan of just how cold the night was. Despite being surrounded by fellow soldiers, it made him feel incredibly lonely. 

Lachlan carefully checked over the equipment that was strapped tightly to him, making sure that every bit and piece was there. And when he found that everything was in its rightful place, he checked again. And then for a third time. And then for a forth. And a fifth. Because it at least gave him something to do that wasn’t worrying and stressing for events that he had no say in. He felt a nudge in his side, and turned back to Arthur who somehow still had that grin on his face. 

“Hey” he murmured, “12 bob says that Archille gets his foot stuck in the mud again”. 

Archille was a gangly boy with a mop of dark hair and famously known in the company for having the worst of luck. Whether it was tripping over nothing, knocking over the last of their sergeants cigarettes, or being the only one in their entire company to get fleas, wherever he went, disaster seemed to follow. 

“What do you mean again?” Lachlan asked, the wisp of a smile appearing on his lips. 

Arthurs smile doubled in size at this, his eyes flickering in amusement. “Well” he whispered “a couple of weeks ago me, Archille and a couple of the other boys were went on this scouting mission you see, in broad day light mind you. Anyway, so there we were, trekking through knee high mud while keeping our heads down so we don’t get our bloody heads blown off. That’s when we suddenly hear this blast from a gun, and I’m thinking to myself ‘well this is it, this is where we die’. But, low and behold, we don’t die. Turns out the shot was from one of the gents from our side. ‘Course, poor Archille didn’t know this and had the bright idea to dive downwards, right into the mud! To make the whole thing better, he dived face first! You should have seen him, his entire mug was just covered in mud, you could barely even see his eyes! At this point me and the other boys are already too busy pissing ourselves with laughter, but oh ho it gets better! As he’s scrambling to get up, he tries pulling his feet out but finds that they’re both stuck still. So he gives a huge heave and is able to pull one of his feet out without too much of a struggle, now he just has to get the other one out. So, gives another big heave and out comes his foot. Without his boot of course. So he’s hopping about, not wanting to put his foot in the mud in fear of getting Trench foot. And he’s yelling at us to grab his boot before it disappears into the mud, and we’re all too busy laughing, so he hops over and tries to put it out, only for his to fall right back into the mud! I think the only reason the Germans didn’t shoot us is because they were too busy laughing as well!”.

This was usually a story that would cause Lachlan to role his eyes and scoff at it. Now however, he found himself doubled over laughing, tears prickling in his eyes. Arthur was leaning on him, holding his stomach with his head turned up to the sky as he laughed. In that moment they were no longer soldiers. They were just two friends, laughing over a joke, with not a problem in the world. They were just men.

“Right! Get ready men! We’re about to go over!” Their Generals voice cut through their laughter, causing them to stop and look up just in time to see the general giving them both a disapproving scowl. It was now that Lachlan realised that, with Arthurs story and their laughter, he hadn’t noticed that the booms of the bombardment had stopped. It was time. The anxiety, all the nerves from before came rushing back as the company stood still and tall, their knuckles white from how hard they were gripping their rifles. 

There was a bang in the distance, and a couple seconds later a flare in the distance shot right into the sky, before exploding into a ghostly green colour. Its green light caused everything to look foreign, painting the entire trench and the men in it green. As the flare dived down, it caused the shadows to become distorted, their shadows rotating and stretching across the ground. 

FWWWWWWRRRRRPPP!

The shrill scream of the whistle cut sharply through the night, and suddenly they were moving. The men at front rushed up the ladder, war cry’s escaping their lips as they ran over the trench and disappeared from sight. Then the next men pushed up and over the trenches then the next, then the next, until it was the men in front of Lachlan who were climbing the ladder and going over. And then suddenly it was Lachlan’s turn, his hands on the ladder as he heaved himself up, and over the trench. 

There wasn’t any time to study the barren landscape as he ran forward, gun shots and mortar explosion echoing in his ears as adrenaline carried him forward. He could do this. He had done this before, he would do it again, he…

His internal dialogue was interrupted when something caught on his shoe, and he found himself hurtling towards the ground. He landed on his stomach with a gasp, all the air in his lungs quickly rushing out of him. He lay there for an unknown amount of time, dazed and gasping for air, noises thundering from all around him. As he finally gathered his bearings, Lachlan looked up, blinking a couple of times to clear his head, and that was when he saw him. Archille. And Lachlan knew in that moment that he was going to win his bet with Arthur. Archille wasn’t going to get his foot stuck in mud ever again. Both of his feet had been blown off. Lachlan’s stomach twisted dangerously, and that was the only warning he got before he was vomiting into the earth, his stomach contents joining the mud and blood. He dry heaved well after his stomach was empty, spluttering from the fowl taste it left in his mouth. Suddenly, someone was grabbing at his arms, dragging him up to his feet. Lachlan spun around, expecting to see some German who was going to go in for the kill. It was Arthur. 

“Blimey!” Arthur exclaimed, a smile still somehow on his face, I thought you were dead for a second mate”.

Lachlan coughed once more, before being able to offer Arthur a weak nod. “Trust me, so did I”.

Arthur laughed, before he moved forward, pulling Lachlan along with him. “Come on, we’re missing all of the action!” and then he was running off, rifle in hands, and Lachlan could do nothing more then follow his lead. The two of them ran towards enemy lines, dodging craters to the best of their ability while in the dark. Bullets whizzed passed them, and yet they continued running, ignoring the mangled corpses of men who they had been standing next to moments ago. 

Boom!

An explosion irrupted on the German lines, red flames lighting up the dark night. Even from where he was, Lachlan could feel the impressive heat of the explosion on his skin, causing his to slow down for a couple of seconds before speeding up again. 

“Blimey!” Arthur yelled over his shoulder, “can you-

There was a swoosh, followed by a deafening thump, and Arthur’s body suddenly convulsed before dropping like a rock in front of him as though he had tripped over something. He didn’t get back up.

No.

No no no no no.

Not him.

Dropping to the ground, his knees burying in the mud, as he cradled his head in his lap. He wasn’t smiling any more.

“Come on Arthur”, Lachlan pleaded. “Its just a graze, you’re in shock, we gotta get moving now”. Arthur didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink. He was dead.

It was something so expected, something that Lachlan had always known deep down would happen. And yet, at the same time, there had always been a small part of him that was foolish enough to believe that they were the lucky ones. That they would return home. It was his own fault really. Through Lachlan’s turmoil, he failed to hear the whistling that steadily grew closer. If he hadn’t been babbling desperate pleas to his friend, maybe he would have jumped out of the way. But, as the mortar became louder, he couldn’t find it himself to care. There was bang, loud enough that all other noises disappeared, and for a moment he thought he was dead, floating through the afterlife. And then his back hit the ground. And then the pain hit him. And he wasn’t floating any more, he was screaming. It was as though his own body was ripping itself apart, his skin burning and sizzling, chunks of debris sticking out from random places in his body, holding him to the ground. All he could do was scream, until that too became too painful.

A flare shot into the sky, red and angry, its blinding light covering out the view of the stars as it floated back downwards. 

And the he saw it, Polaris, bright and shining, and suddenly, the pain and agony was at the back of his mind. Because there was Polaris, and nearby was Orion.

He was so tired.

Beside it was Taurus, the great and powerful bull.

He could sleep, someone would wake him when he needed them.

And then, if he looked hard enough, he could just make out Cassiopeia.

His body numbed, chilling as his heart staggered in its beats.

There the universe was, spread out in front of him like a painting. He watched the stars twinkle and shine, in all of their beauty, and they watched in return, as he took his final breath.