Through the Trenches & The Storm of Smoke

CW: violence, injury detail, war

I have never seen so much blood in my life. Only a few kilometres ago, I was walking with a rifle in my hands and my only friend in front of me. Our division was going to the front lines. We didn’t who we fought for, and what we fought against but General Commander Fox ordered us to give support to our comrades. That was our order, and we had to follow it without question. That was a few kilometres ago, I didn’t know how many. I couldn’t keep track of them. I was just thinking why we lived and they died at the hands of the enemy, whatever enemy that was. They came and flanked us, firing at our division. Their tactical prowess was true and they killed our division in no time at all. The backup was killed, slaughtered, with bullet holes covering each and every torso. All except me.

I thanked my lucky stars or whatever God might be up there, that the enemy didn’t thoroughly check the corpses of innocent drafted men that they slaughtered. There were so many of us packed into those trenches that I was buried among the bodies. I could barely breathe but I dared not make a sound. I had to survive. I had to do what I could to make it to the front line. 

6 minutes of that agonizing squeeze. The mixed smell of gunpowder, blood, and body odor made me nearly gag. I stayed in between those corpses for a minute just to be safe that they were gone. And when I was sure, I squeezed my way out, gasping for air when I finally made it out. Fresh air filled my deprived lungs and what a relief it was. 

But I heard a sound. A groan, a gasp for air like mine. I whipped around, grabbing a poor dead comrade's rifle. I couldn’t take any chances. I would survive this hell. 

My hostility turned to gladness, because I saw my good friend, Dean. He stood there, clutching his chest, gasping, coughing, wheezing for air. He leaned against the wall of the trench... 

I was glad he made it. 

---------- 

Seth and Dean had made it to where they were ordered. At the front line, where several ladders, broken oil lamps, and rifles lay on the ground. The place had the stench of death. The smell of rotten flesh floated above the trench. Seth and Dean looked at each other, knowing this could likely be where they would meet their demise. They sat in the mud of the trenches, gathering themselves. They were about to take one of the ladders laid on the ground, and climb to the top, giving whatever support they could. They were about to fire their rifles in the name of patriotism, as per their general commander’s orders. 

Now Dean was kissing his crucifix on his necklace and reciting prayers. Seth creased his forehead at this, as he was never much for prayers. He shook his head, wondering what person would ever believe such ridiculous things. He stood up and put the ladder onto the side of the trench. “Are you finished with those prayers of yours? We best get this over done with...”, Seth said. He was convinced that that was the day that they would perish. As the kilometers went on from when they were massacred, the hope in Seth’s heart shrunk. 

 The sun was hidden by clouds and rain was starting to arrive.  

Dean climbed the ladder and peeked his head over the top. “What do you see?”, Seth said, worried for the worst. The gunshots got louder and groans of agony sounded. There was no escaping this. 

“I think we’re the only ones left, Seth...” 

“No, there’s no way. General Commander Fox said-” 

“I know what he said. They’ve all been slaughtered.”, Dean interrupted him, still talking from the top of the ladder. They both didn’t know how to react. 

Seth was shocked, and scared. He did not sign up for this. If he wasn’t sure that they would die before, he was sure now. 

“How many are they?”, He asked. 

“Thirty. Maybe more...”, Dean replied, still somehow keeping a composed face. 

“We can’t go back...right?”, Seth remarked. 

“We’ll get ostracized, flogged, probably worse...” 

“Ok, I get the point.", Seth said, not wanting to hear more. His hope had reached pit bottom. He sighed, "Alright, let’s go.” 

Dean climbed and disappeared over the top and Seth followed. 

Seth climbed over the top and crawled towards Dean who was using his binoculars. ​The grass was tall and hid them from the enemy. The stench of blood came from ahead so they knew that was where the battlefield was.

However, the landscape was beautiful. If he wasn't drafted, Seth would take out his camera he got for Christmas from his sister and take a picture of the sight before him. Mountains, yellow grass, lush trees and a surreal sunset. The rain started to pour and the sun peeked in between the clouds. Seth knew he wouldn't ever experience anything like this again. If he died anywhere, he wouldn't mind it being here.

"Do you see them ?", Seth whispered. He had left his binoculars at the massacre. Unfortunately, being buried by several corpses makes one lose their possessions from time to time.

Seth was very impatient. He knew the chances that they had. He knew they had to keep moving.

“Dean, we have to kee-” 

“Shhhh!”, Dean exclaimed, putting his finger on his lips, while still looking through his binoculars.

Seth waited impatiently as Dean scouted the area.  

Seth felt the ground shake, however. Underneath his forearms that were pressed onto the ground for support, he felt vibrations. Some seconds past, and Seth whispered to his comrade, "Do you feel that?"

Dean stopped scouting and lent his ear. He couldn't hear it but he could definitely feel it. The ground shook with deep loud rumbles.

What was concerning was that those rumbles got louder. Seth could hear a faint whistle coming from behind him. He looked behind him and just made out some smoke over the tall grass. He knew what was happening. They were going to get blown to pieces. It was only a second later that the trench that Seth and Dean were in was obliterated. Mud and dirt mixed with the smoke. It was a terrifying sight. Dean saw the sight and his breath became stuck in his throat. He couldn't breath.

And before Dean could react, Seth was pulling him up to start running. Dean nearly lost his balance as Seth dragged across the tall grass.

It was only a whistle, but it was loud. It became louder and louder. And finally, shrapnel and smoke came to the surface just a few metres in front of them. It threw them back, the back of their heads coming in contact with the ground.

Dean wasn't moving. His body lay with bruises and blood. However, Seth groaned and cried. The pain in his ears was too much to bear. He covered his ears and snapped his eyes open.

His eyes adjusted to the light, not of smoke, sky, and clouds, but instead, of a wooden ceiling, tarnished with age.

Seth was back at camp, amongst his fellow soldiers in his familiar cubicle. He widened his eyes and creased his forehead. He coughed and groaned. He didn't know what to think.

The siren sounded which hurt his ears which sent his mind into a frenzy of confusion.

Seth turned over and sat at the edge of his bed and met the eyes of Dean, his friend. Seth remembered dragging him across the tall grass just a few seconds ago. But Dean simply stood up and quickly put on his garments.

He peeked at Seth, "Come on, brother. We're going to the front lines", Dean said with a deep grin.