This is War [ONC 2021] // Honourable Mention

Chapter Sixteen - Kurt

Every time he closed his eyes, Kurt could see the look on the man's face when he realised he had wandered into the wrong trench. He could see the light drain out of his eyes when the shot had been fired and the image of him falling to the floor over and over again. No matter what he did, Kurt couldn't escape the sight of the first man he had watched die on the battlefield. A man he had shot himself.

When Wilhelm and Johannes had returned from taking the injured man to the medics, they found Kurt staring up at the body just a short distance from their trench. Kurt tried to explain to them what had happened but he struggled to even find the words for it and so the two of them had to put the story together themselves. They praised Kurt for thinking on his feet and protecting the entire Regiment from the enemy, but Kurt didn't think he deserved that praise. He had just shot someone, and he felt awful.

Kurt shot up in his dugout, breathing hard with sweat running down his face, the entire dugout felt too small for him. He kicked his blanket off his legs and stumbled out of the dugout, into the cold, October night. Those on guard duty sat slumped against the walls of the trench with their rifle trained towards the enemy. Further down the trench, he could hear the occasional short burst of gunfire, but the trench was mostly silent.

"You're not on guard duty tonight," Paul said, stifling a yawn and readjusting his position against the trench wall.

"I couldn't sleep," Kurt whispered.

"I feel like that sometimes. I'm more than certain I can hear gunfire and mortar shells, but when I wake up, it's quiet. Well, other than Otto's snoring."

Kurt sighed. "Every time I try and sleep, I see that man, the one who reached our trench thinking it was his own. I just can't get his death out of my head."

"You did the right thing, he probably would have killed you if you hadn't beat him to it. I'm sure you'll get over it, death is a part of war after all."

"Hm." Kurt turned and started to walk in the opposite direction of his dugout.

"Where are you going?" Paul asked.

"I'll be back, I just need to go for a walk."

He could feel Paul watching him as he made his way through the trench and away from the dugout. The cold air felt cool against his warm skin and Kurt found himself staring up at the night sky that seemed bigger and more imposing than ever. With few clouds, the stars were on full display, they lit up the night sky above his head, almost reminding him of being back home with his family.

In the summer months, Kurt and Hans would spend their nights sleeping outside on blankets and pillows that they dragged out of the farmhouse. They would stare up at the stars with Kurt trying to identify the different constellations that he had read about in books. He thought of those nights and wondered whether he would ever get the chance to look up at the sky with his brother again. The man he had killed reminded Kurt of just how easy it was for everything to be taken away from him.

Kurt moved through the trench until he came to a stop at the same place he had fired that gun several days before. The sandbags had been moved and readjusted, the debris from the mortars cleared, but Kurt could still see the specks of blood in the mud where the injured man had laid moments before he fired that shot. Despite the danger, Kurt poked his head over the top of the trench and stared out across the land that the man had died on.

Against the darkness, he could see his shadow resting on the floor, his arm bent behind him and his rifle slung across his chest. Kurt stared at the mass, his mind spinning. He looked around, checking to make sure no one was around, before scrambling up the side of the trench and rolling over the top of the sandbags. He knew it was a stupid thing to do, but by the time he was out of the trench, Kurt knew there was no going back.

He crawled on his stomach towards the shape on the ground, reaching it in a matter of seconds. After several days out in the open, rats had attacked the body and Kurt tried his hardest not to look at it as he felt around the uniform, eventually finding the pocket on the man's jacket. Kurt reached inside and pulled out a couple of photographs and a small, metal disc. With the items in hand, he crawled back towards the trench and rolled in without anyone having seen him.

Kurt tucked the items into his pocket, resolving to look at them in daylight, and made his way back towards the dugout.

"What happened to you?" Paul asked as he came around the corner. Kurt looked down at his uniform which was covered in mud from the top of the trench.

"Oh, nothing. I slipped."

"You should watch where you're going. There are a lot of jumpy men out there, one loud noise and you might find yourself with a hole in your chest."

"I know."

"You should get some sleep, you're supposed to be on guard duty tomorrow as it is."

Kurt nodded and made his way through the rest of the trench, slipping into the dugout where the other men were fast asleep, none of them having noticed his late-night escapade. He laid down on his bed and pulled the photographs and the metal disc out of his pocket, running his fingers over the ridges of the disc. Although it was too dark to read it or to see the photographs, Kurt knew that they must have been important for him to be carrying them.

Regardless of whether he was the enemy of the war, Kurt knew he had a family, people who would have wanted these things back. He knew it to be the right thing to do, despite how the others might view him because of it. Kurt also hoped that were to end up in the same situation, that someone might do the same thing for him

He needed to find a way to send the photograph and the disc back to the man's family.

~~~

First Published - February 24th, 2021