WAR STORIES (WW1 Story)

RUSSELL S: CHAPTER 1

Me and my little brother Elliot had been working up in the farm the morning we first heard the words that the about the killing of Archduke Franz Ferdinand when they were busy attending to a military review, and whilst on their visit, they had been killed by a man only known as Gavrillo Princip, a nationalist. Me and Elliot had then heard that war had soon broke out. First, Austria declared war on Serbia, then Germany declared war on Russia. After, Germany declared war on both France and Belgium, then it led down to us attacking on Germany, just a few days ago actually. All of us working up on the farm had been called to the town square, in the middle of when we were working. Some of the lads up ahead were saying that could see some sort of a marching band, but I can't say I did. There were banners, posters, and most of all, soldiers everywhere. Every where you looked you'd see one. Either selling off some horses or standing their ground on the outside of the crowd, their guns fully loaded. Ready to shoot anyone in their sight. Didn't matter who they'd shoot. They would just shoot. And that was what they had been trained to do. Kill on sight....

It had been about half an hour now, since the Sergeant had started on his speech onto trying to make us go and fight in the war. I sure know I wasn't going, I'd be one of the first to fall. I know I would be. I mean, it didn't matter how I died, I just knew that deep down in my gut that I would. But, at least I knew that Elliot wouldn't be able to get in. Which was good, for Mammie and Pa. Pa was getting old now and well, he wasn't fit to go out fighting, and neither was I. I got the pace in the family but not the distance. You see, that's the thing Elliot got. You see, Mammie had told the school to tell old Elliot that she was goin' to be late picking him up from school. In the end, he ended up walking home by himself. 3 miles it took him, and he never stopped. Not even for a break or to catch his breath. He just. Kept walking. Anyway, they would never let poor old Elliot in, he was a year under age alone, so they couldn't let him in, could they? Could they....

The music had ended with a deafening silence, which the crowd had soon started to applaud to, so I began to join in. Like, any normal person would have done really. I turned, to see Elliot, huddled beside me, since there was so many people hear, and he was making the sounds as if he were shivering. People barging and shouldering there way past him, pushing him around a bit as they did. I then took it upon myself, to you know, swap places with him. He looked up at me, with a thankful look in his eyes, and I winked. You see, Oliver taught me that. Yep, me and Oliver had been friends ever since we were at school together. Smashing conkers, playing out in the streets, Marble and Cricket, we always played together. Yep, those were the good old days. His sister, I didn't really know her until she started school herself. She was just, a little younger than me and Oliver. Around, 2 -3 years younger than me I suppose. I didn't personally know her back then but, now were quite familiar with each other. Not like me and Oliver of course but, similar...

I turned back to the sound of Elliot's shivering noises, people barging past both him and me again. I grabbed him by the shoulders and quickly hauled him out of the crowd and back up the street, where I sat him down on the pavement, and I sat down beside him.

"You alright Elliot, lad?" I asked him, placing a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder. I was trying to sound interested but at the same time like I didn't care too much as well. "What's been botherin' ya?"

He shrugged, and I sighed, before trying to get a proper look at his face. "You've been looking a bit pale, in fact, you only started looking like that the minute we set a single foot out of the house."

I tried to say it all with a little grin, and maybe a laugh or two bit, no matter what I was doing, it did nothing to get anything out of him.

He then looked across to me, a few tears streaming down his face.

I was a little worried at fitst, but then I knew what was about to happen. Elliot, was going to sign up. I felt it in my stomach. All the way down to my gut. I just, I knew it. Elliot had been having these weird kind of, panicky things ever since we heard 'bout the news on what had been happening up in France and in Belgium and, places like that really. I didn't really know what they were, but he had tried telling me about them.

I had no idea how he felt, or how he could even cope with the constant fear of having one of those 'things' again. I mean, what if he just started having one right here. Right now. In front of everybody. Now, that was what I was afraid of. I had never been so scared of something my whole life, but the one thing that did scar me, was seeing my little brother having one of those little panicky things in public. He had such a burden to carry already. People would pick on him, call him crazy, tell him to go to a mental asylum where he belonged. I didn't believe any of that, of course, but whenever they did say something like that, Elliot always had that look on his face, as if he had done something wrong. As if he was the one to blame. As if, he had been the one to make him this way. But, it wasn't his fault, so why he thought he did was beyond me. I looked down into his pale blue eyes; and saw the tears that had been lurking there. I could see his pain. The fear. The sadness. In one moment. I saw everything. And then I remembered, my gut filling with sorroness and guilt. I was right, it wasn't his fault at all-

"I'm going to fight, Russell." He told me, bringing me out of my thoughts and back into reality. "Everyone expects me to do, they all do, even Mammie and Pa."

"For Christs sake Elliot," I told him in a slightly hushed tone, as people were walking alongside the pavement in front of us into the town square, but I was still firm, as a big brother should be. "Would you ever just stop and listen to yourself for once?"

He looked down at the floor, then back up at me, with a face that I knew I wouldn't be able to change his mind at all. He was determined to fight. I could see it in every part of his face. But, what I did know, was the things I could say to him.

"Look, Elliot." I told him, with a long sigh before grabbing his shoulder again. "I know what this must mean to you, to go out and fight. But just stop, and think for a minute. Just one little minute. What would happen to you if you went out there, and you never even came back?" He looked down at the floor again, shuffling his feet from side to side, not bothering to look back up at me this time.

I sighed again, before I carried on. "Elliot, I don't know how you feel. But I do know that I care about you, and you care about me. I don't know what I would do if you decided to go out there and you never came back. That's why I want you to stay here, with Mammie and-"

"And what, so you can go out and fight for yourself?" He interrupted, this time staring me straight in the eye. "Nah, lad. If you go, I go. Deal?"

I started to mumble, trying so desperately to find the right words to say, but I couldn't. I was too late.

Next minute, I find myself being hauled away from the street back into the crowd, with Elliot pulling me towards the stand, a tight grip on my hand. I didn't know what I was doing, but however hard I tried to break free of his grip and tell Elliot to stop, he just gripped on tighter, and pulled me harder. From that moment, I knew that Elliot wanted this more than anything. More than when we were little lads, staring through the glass window of his favourite toy shop and mither Mammie to death for that bike he had always wanted to have so badly. More than the jewellery he had wanted to buy for a few pennies short for Mammie on Mothers Day, but didn't have enough to get it. More than the time he had wanted to go and live down in London the year before. More than any of that which, probably still makes him think he was stupid. Which he was, most of the time anyways. But, I still cared about him, and I wanted him to be safe. With Mammie. With Pa. With me. And out there in France, with corpses and guns firing everywhere, I knew he wouldn't be. He'd be a goner, just like me. And I wasn't going to let that happen, not when he was so young and carefree. He should be living his life, not wanting to end it so quickly. He needed to live. He needs to live...

I stood my ground, on the spot, which made him trip a bit before turning around to face me again.

"What are you doing?" He asked, slightly angry, but still quiet.

"Saving your bloody life." I replied. before I felt his grip loosen and I pushed him back into the crowd, where I was sure he was going to have another of his panicky 'things' again.

Fortunately for me, he did, before I saw him plum-ate to the ground, like a sack of bricks. Yet, he wasn't sleeping, nor dead. But he seemed to be in some sort of 'trance' I suppose. Once the crowd had realized what happened, they all ran in horror off to the sidelines, some back to their homes. I then slowly picked him up off of the floor, and threw him over my shoulder, as the crowd had split apart. They were watching. Both in horror, shock, and well, anger. They continued to watch from the out scurts as I carried both me and Elliot back through the streets and into the forest, a deafening silence which soon began to surround us, turned deadly...