Third Post

The rhythmic steps of marching soldiers ceased and a wave of solemnity coupled with anticipation and vehemence washed over the soldiers. My eyes scanned the wide expanse of barren land, searching for the slightest flicker of movement.

Nothing. Not a thing in sight.

As the French, we are proud men, we won’t back down. Here we stand, prepared for war; a war initiated by those filthy Germans; so how is that they have the nerve to run away from something they proposed. Cowards. Perhaps they scurried away at the sight of our invincible troops. I smirked at the thought.

The general’s husky growl was heard by all as he bellowed his command. “If they won’t come to us,” he paused, determination glimmering in his eyes, “we will go to them! CHARGE!”

We stampeded forward adrenaline coursing through our veins.  Nothing could stop us now.

Slam. The soldier beside me hurtled into the ground. Did he trip? No, something was wrong and I couldn’t shake this feeling of uneasiness off me.

Roars of determination transformed into cries of agony as more soldiers plunged into the ground. Panic was clawing at the edges of my stomach and my once agile steps faltered. Squinting my eyes, I examined the field before me.

There it was.

I could see machine guns and rifles aimed at us, firing away. But where were the bodies? I looked further and noticed the signature spiked German helmets protruding from the ground.

Underground?

Trenches?!

BANG!

What?

I plummeted towards the ground, cursing life, war and death. It was too late. They were prepared, those sly Germans.  I held my hands out in front of me and they were soaked in crimson. Is that blood? I couldn’t tell anymore – the pain had already numbed out.

The astringent stench of rotting flesh and death assault my nose. A cool wind blew, carrying smells of smoke and dust, of blood and war.

I can’t hear anything anymore.

Or smell.  Or feel.

I wonder what Maria is doing. I hope she’s by my side the next time I wake up.