A Collection of Short Stories

Trenched

Fritz felt the particles of dust waft over his nose. Today was supposed to be the surprise attack from the Eldian army. The commander didn't say when it would happen, but to be ready. Other men in the cramped trench beds cocked their guns, readying for the assault. Most of them seemed deathly afraid. The young nipper with scruffy orange hair was no exception. A low booming noise filled his ears. Was it a whizzbang? No, it was only a plane passing by. In his hand laid a picture of his girlfriend. He kissed the photo before tucking it into his coat. Out of all the sombre men, he was the most hopeful. Fritz believed with all his heart that he would return. Return to Cecilia. It was set in stone: to him, at least.

Another plane soared over the underground trench, its roar waking sleeping soldiers. Through the entranceway was, at first, a mix of murky colours. The grand dim scene settled as the plane aviated over the trench. This time, the plane was on fire. A general darted into the subterranean shelter and barked at the group of soldiers. Fritz erected and snatched his gun before tightening his helmet straps. Intelligence said the attack was estimated to persist for two hours. In that time, the entire brigade would drive back the onslaught, whilst the supplies and other units of the army retreated into Vendor. Blocks of soldiers moved through the trench as Fritz glanced up at the grey sky. Through the colourless morning sky, a formation of planes commenced a dive. He realised what was to transpire and screeched at everyone to take cover. Many men could not hear his strained voice as the planes expelled short waves of ammunition towards the trench. Some infantry ducked while others were viciously ripped apart by the sheer strength of the bullets. Fritz plunged into the mine position he trained for. His body sprawled level against the soil with his hands behind his head.

Dirt and debris lurched into the air, producing a sea of sediment. A handful floated onto his thick, fluffy hair. He gingerly cracked his eyes open and tilted his head to the right to see a man without an arm. Blood spewed out and merged with the mud. He bellowed in anguish, pleading for help. Fritz froze helplessly as his stomach wrenched. He shrank back and vomited away from the dying trooper, still shaken. A medic emerged from elsewhere in the trench, before receiving an unanticipated bullet in the neck. Both men gazing flinched, which was promptly replaced by a shriek as cadets around the two either prayed or sat paralysed in fear. Fritz crawled up to the medic and ripped open his bag to find an array of equipment. There, a long, clean bandage assuaged his sight. The medic laid unconscious, but Fritz discerned he was alive due to his breathing. Fritz wrapped the bandage tightly around the medic's neck and relocated the limp body towards a sheltered spot in the trench. The armless soldier still wailed and recited the same phrase.

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die."

The phrase reverberated in Fritz's head, and he felt unnerved about prioritising the medic over the armless kerl. Another soldier surfaced behind him to help the armless man. Relieved, Fritz checked his surroundings and saw people frantically scrambling about or shooting at what seemed to be nothing. Behind the front lines, the planes that sprayed the troops with bullets were spiralling down into the field. The new anti-plane machinery was triumphant. Fritz was too timid to stand up and see what was over no man's land. Instead, he asked officers if there were more attackers. To his surprise, the enemy was launching a suicide attack over no man's land. Fritz peeked over to observe a massive wave of men pouring over, with most of them shot by his comrades and descending into dips in the field. He sat down and soothed himself. He knew a lot of the adversaries would ultimately reach this end of the battlefield. With this knowledge, Fritz swiftly crouched and advanced down the trench. The commander was on the west side. If he could get to the commander, he could tell him his plan.

The plan was simple but effective. Fritz could tell what the enemy was doing—the planes were the first wave to dispose of most of Vendor's army. Then, a wave of men would rid of the survivors, before the rest of the army stormed the camp. The camp was a mile south of the trenches, but that was where supplies for the Vendor army were exported. The commander's plan to counter this manoeuvre was to keep the young boy's brigade and other units to delay the attack. Behind them would be anti-plane weapons and another wave of infantry. Fritz's plan would save more lives than the commander, but it would also prove effective against the barrage of men threatening their position.

The no longer undefiled boy could only hear the cries of men, the deafening shots of gunfire, and the explosions of dust. In the background, he could hear the clattering of guns and the soft tone of clothes and shoes rubbing off each other. Occupied by the turbulence, he felt a sharp, searing burn in his arm. Fritz glimpsed to his right: nothing. Then, another piercing ache ensued. This time, it was his torso. He whipped his head back to see some enemy soldiers had already reached the east side of the trenches. Time was running out. If he were going to attempt to save the lives of whomever he had in mind, he would have to bolt. Fritz gnarled and gradually began to shrill as other soldiers took notice of the Eldian soldiers that reached their line. Off guard, many of Fritz's comrades were killed by more Eldians ahead in the west. He noticed a tunnel that stretched into living quarters and rushed inside to evade fire as other soldiers followed. Inside, he heard a loud whistle. His heart skipped a beat: whizzbangs.

Fritz blared to take cover as a sonorous pullulating explosion churned the entire tunnel. Flames chased the crowd of survivors, like a maddened mob, as it devoured several men. He gaped back, horrified by the men who were scorched alive. Skin peeled from their appendages and their eyes gleamed in panic. He had to keep moving. He turned right, towards the east side of the trenches and followed the narrow path. Light sparkled in the distance, as it gradually evolved into an opening. The men elected to stay safe inside the shabby, subterrene tunnels whilst Fritz ran out and surveyed a virtually deserted trench. In the far west, he could see a large gathering of men, in position. The gunfire was more subdued, and there was grass on this facet of the battleground.

He proceeded through the trench and reached the command post. It was guarded by two men who questioned him. Fritz stated he had urgent intelligence for the commander. A guard scanned him before gesturing for him to enter. The commander stood around a table, plotting his next move. Generals grunted and nodded their heads until the lad stepped in.

"Private?" the commander addressed.

Fritz took a deep breath before ringing blasts came from behind him. A guard screeched as everyone in the room took cover. Everyone's eyes fluttered as they collectively fell. The humming of aircraft increased just as Fritz's realisation did: he was mistaken. On the table were several miniature planes all positioned into two waves. The Eldians had numerous planes at their disposal, yet the commander knew this was to occur. Behind the arrangement of minute planes was a figure of a machine Fritz hadn't recognised before. It was a vehicle but with armour. Instead of wheels, it had tracks of some sort. Inundating trepidation overwhelmed Fritz. The commander articulated softly to the kid.

"We have no choice."

The commander cleared his throat weakly before a whistle engulfed Fritz's ears. Everyone in the room gazed at the ceiling, knowing what was to come. His army had succumbed to the Eldians, hadn't it?