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The ground crumbles under my hands as I scramble to get out of the pit. My head is swimming and the muffled sounds and piercing ringing from my left ear mixed with the sharp screams and gunfire from my right mess with my head.
The last shell had caved in the dugout, blasting half us out into no man's land and leaving the rest buried beneath tons of rubble and dirt. The ones who died instantly were lucky, and those that didn't would be left to be crushed under the rubble or suffocated in the dirt. If this had happened a few months before a whole horde of men would have fallen upon the ruins and begun to try and rescue anyone they could. But now we knew better. It was every man for themselves and only idiots with dreams of heroic acts and deadmen stopped to help.
As I reach the lip of the pit I stick my hand over the edge and scratch around for something to grab onto. My hand brushes against something and I grab onto the object with force so I can use it to pull myself out. Unfortunately my triumph is short lived as my hand is pierced by the barbs running along the wire. I howl as I struggle to release it. In my haste I forget where I am and pitch backwards, tumbling to the bottom of the pit. As I fall I'm still connected to the barricade and for a few terrifying seconds I think I will be crushed by it. But then with a great wrench as it gets caught on something outside the pit, my hand comes free with an agonizing rip. For a few seconds I lie on my back staring at the barricade as I try to catch my breath. My hand feels as though it is on fire and the skin is cut up beyond recognition. I sit up in a hurry and search around in my pockets before pulling out a dirty rolled up bandage. I'd found it on the floor while we'd been walking through a med camp a few days ago. I wrap it around my hand as tightly as possible to stop the bleeding.
My hearing is still wrong and the ringing is starting to drive me mad. I can feel some kind of liquid sliding down the side of my face and with a shaking hand I reach up and feel around before I pull my hand back and examine it in the dwindling light. It's covered in a bright red and I realise that the explosion must have burst my eardrum. I can feel myself slipping further and further into hysteria, my breath coming in quick pants. I have to remind myself that panic will get me nowhere and start counting backwards from ten.
My eyes roam across the bottom of the pit and I'm surprised to find two others here with me. One is a frail, old man with grey hair and a receding hairline whose crows feet seem to dominate his weathered face. I can only assume before this dreaded war that he was a farmer of some sorts. The other is a young boy who can't be older than seventeen. I can only assume his hair is blonde as his head is caked in blood and muck and his dark brown eyes are hollow and vacant. He has yet to lose his chubby cheeks and it's a wonder that recruitment even believed his lies about being over eighteen. I flush red from my ears to my neck as I realise they must have seen me as I tried to escape. We all look at each other in silence as we listen and wait for the sounds of battle to subside. Eventually after what feels like hours all that can be heard is the occasional gunshot from either side. I finally find the courage to speak up. “Who are you?” They both look startled like neither one expected to be spoken to. The old man is the first to respond. “The name’s Gerard.” “And how bout you?” I reply in a hoarse voice “Connor.” I turn to the boy with expectant eyes. In a mumble he replies “James.”
I nod my head and close my eyes leaning back against the side of the pit. I don’t know why I’ve bothered asking. It’s not like knowing their names will prevent our inevitable death.
With my head tilted back I open my eyes and look up at the fading sunlight. The fading hues of red and orange are a stark contrast to the greys and browns of the desolate battlefield. As the last dredges of the blood red light drip onto the horizon the temperature begins to drop.
Within minutes my breath is frosting through the air and I can hear the chattering teeth of my companions and I know that we won’t survive the night.
With a stuttering heart and a resigned mind I close my eyes and sink into a restless slumber. My mind is plagued with nightmares of the day I was recruited. The flashing banners, the loud fanfare, the dramatic words of the recruiter. “ Young men! Come, come close and hear how you! Yes you! Can become a hero. Atlantica threatens our interests.. So we must make sure they can’t anymore. If you join you will never be alone. Your country men will always be with you. You will create bonds that will last a lifetime. Join the army today!”
I shift uncomfortably and my eyes open. It’s hard to make anything out in the darkness but I can just make out the shapes of Connor and Gerard. I don’t know what compels me to do it but I ever so slowly creep over to Gerard. My joints are stiff from the cold and my skin is cut as I slide across the frozen ground. When I reach him I gently touch him. His body is stiff and cold to the touch. I reach over and hover my hand above his mouth. Nothing. I sit back in shock. He was dead. Frozen to death. In a hurry I crawl my way over to James. I shake him and he too doesn’t respond. In the minimal light I can barely see something crusted on his wrists. In horror I realise what that means.
I fall backwards and scramble away. The same words that the recruiter said keep running through my head. “Your country men will always be with you. You will create bonds that last a lifetime.” “Always be with you, last a lifetime.”
“Always, lifetime.”
Alone