Death, Gore
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Sounds of loud explosion burst in unison, echoing unclear in the distance;
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One meant aircraft run. Two meant tank busters.
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Three meant artillery bombardment.
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This is it.
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Lt. Campbell turns around and shouts toward him, “Spread out! Spread out!”
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Pvt. Tom runs following him as he glimpses most of his squad rush in different directions, stumbling on his feet as his helmet loosely fastens. He grips his rifle, steadying his arms in a cold aching shake.
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He sees him jump into a shallow slope as he follows suit. He leans his back and tries to take a peek at the frontline, he feels his outfit drags down, putting him back on the spot. Lt. Campbell gestures to duck.
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The dark red sky ripples its shells. Ground quakes, sounds of explosives blasts ringing his ears violent.
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He discovers two men sliding down to him, he points his rifle though ceases his direction as he stares at their faces—It's Sgt. Gallagher and his bunk bed buddy, Pvt. Edwards.
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Barrage lands another multiple hit, his ears deafening but soon clear enough. He holds his rifle close and gazes left at a distance to find some of the men ducked flat on the ground. He recognizes a few of his mates.
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Then a shell thunders and blasts, sending black soils and dust spread tall and high.
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He looks away. It could’ve been him.
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He meets Pvt. Edwards on his front, his eyes gaze steady as always, grey-brown soil covering his cheeks as he rests his weapon on the side. As Tom holds his rifle close, he feels a click-break near his upper stomach.
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Tom remembers he has a chocolate bar he took from one of those abandoned stores. Maybe he’ll want one? With this notion, he pulls it out from his outfit and shows it to him.
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Pvt. Edwards nods as he takes and opens it still looking indifferent. At least he accepts his gesture.
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Lt. Campbell gives a subtle smile. He speaks with a raised voice as the following barrage lands another hit nearby, “Bit of an appetite are ya, Ed?!”
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Sgt. Gallagher shouts his voice near Ed, “Heard they chop their hand off!”
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Lt. Campbell shouts back, “What?!”
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“My friend from the colonies! He says they chop their hands off!”
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“Feudalistic chap!” Lt. Campbell shakes his head.
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Tom glances back, looks like Pvt. Edwards is still eating the chocolate regardless. The ground trembles after another hit. Specks of dirt land on his helmet clinging with thin metallic sounds. Until it stops. Then silence.
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Tom clenches his throat dry. Waiting.
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A whistle blares strong, signalling the second charge. This is it.
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He picks on the rumbles of tanks far from behind as he follows Lt. Campbell's leads. The royal soldiers wail across each end of his sides as it seeps into his both ears. Pvt. Tom jumps between ditches as he yells his fears out. He sees the enemy in their grey uniform, he kneels and aims. One time he misses his shot. On the second time, he misses again. The third time he lands his bullet.
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As he stands up he sees a grey soldier ready to pull the trigger on him. To his fortune Sgt. Gallagher shoots the man, saving him. Lt. Campbell covers his behind as he shoots down another soldier.
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As Tom aims he discovers a grey soldier throwing a grenade toward them. He stumbles and falls scrambling as it flashes.
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Tom lay on the ground, lips tasting of salt and soil and iron. He opens his eyes clearing from a blurry vision—Sgt. Gallagher lay with his corpse smokes of shrapnel, Lt. Campbell missing an arm while another grips a pistol, shooting at the enemies aimless, eyes red standing and shouting his devilish loud voice as if daring any of them to lay claim on his life, until a grey soldier rushes to his back. The soldier thrusts his silverish long knife and tackles him to the ground.
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Tom meets the soldier's glance. He pulls out the knife and creeps toward him. Tom scurries yet his shoulder grabs and pulls to meet the soldier's murderous intent.
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Then a shot lands on the soldier's head, and blood spots his face as the soldier falls to the side. He glances in the direction.
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There he finds Pvt. Edwards kneels as he cocks back his rifle. A yellow shell flings from its chamber.
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Then a barrage hums on his front, Tom grasps another artillery bombardment commence as he feels a touch by the shoulder, he finds Edwards offering his hand. He grabs onto it and runs along with him.
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Tom sees a deep enough hole for cover, he grabs Edward and jumps down to it.
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The earth trembles as the barrage shells land, ringing his ears once more.
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As the dirt drips from above, Tom looks at his buddy and exchanges his gaze with him. Still steady.
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“It’s us now, Ed,” Tom says.
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Almost eight months of total mute, yet he admits his presence is comforting. Tom reminds himself to share a biscuit. Edward nods sideways refusing his offer. He always shakes or nods his head for a reply—Tom often finds it humorous. A bit of cheerful notion seeps through his thoughts.
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"Hey. What's it like in Sheffield again?" Tom asks.
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Edward shrugs, means 'it's okay'.
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"Could I visit your home someday?"
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He raises his eyebrows abruptly. It means 'sure'. Not much of a conversation as always. Though a hint of a smile reassures him.
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Tom leans his head back, wandering his mind away from the surrounding blows as the cloud expresses its hellish colour.
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There's a glimpse of a green meadow between his thoughts. His heart aches from the vision. Tom looks at his only friend.
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Is it even possible Ed?
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The barrage ends, and a hush of stillness seems to have dominated the ground above. Tom peeks at his buddy, waiting for an answer.
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Pvt. Edwards nods his head around up, means 'let's go'.
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Tom follows as he pulls himself up the hole. He stands up and looks around as the mist of explosive shells covers them.
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He peeks at Edward and discovers a grey soldier standing sluggish holding his sidearm behind him. His eyes meet him as he raises the gun. Tom quickly pulls his trigger as it clangs an empty cartridge.
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The soldier aims toward him. Tom closes his eyes.
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This is it.
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Two shots blare through his ears at the same time.
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He opens his eyes, the grey soldier's on the ground without a soul, his breath shortens as he turns to his side.
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He finds blood streams from his friend's forehead.
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Eyes wide open, chest rips out in tormenting despair, as Tom screams his lungs out.
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“Edward!”
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