Tales from the Foxhole

The Warden and the Colonial

Private Cadman Lee considered himself to be a good soldier, a true Warden. He followed orders without question. He never shied away from his prayers to Callahan, and he hated the Colonials with a passion. He was unafraid as he sat in his trench, waiting for the order to go over the top. He barely flinched at the artillery that occasionally dropped nearby. The sight of blood did little to him, even when he was covered in it.

He was unafraid, just as he had been taught in training. His whole life revolved around the military. He held his first rifle at age four, was able to disassemble, then reassemble it by age six, and had seen combat for the first time when he turned sixteen years old.

Cadman had never seen a collie; not up close at least. He saw their tanks as they exploded. Their crews were ash by the time he got close enough to see them. Sure, he killed a few with some well placed shots to the head and chest, but they were never close enough for him to see their faces. He was okay with that. They were the enemy, invaders that occupied his ancestral home for over a century. It was his duty as a Warden to kill as many as he could; to die in the name of Callahan.

But the Collies. They had no sense of honor. No reason other than greed to continue this fight. They deserved everything they got, and more.

"Cadman!" He looked up to see his squad leader, Sergeant Arlynn McGowan. An old soul who had somehow served longer than anyone in the company. He stared down at Cadman with his hardened glare. A glare that was an all too common sight for the men of his squad. "Get up, we're about to go over."

Cadman nodded and stood, using his rifle as a crutch to get up. The sergeant moved on and got each member of the squad up and about. Cadman looked up and down the trench. Other sergeants were preparing their squads. Bayonets were fixed, rifles were loaded, and grenades were passed around. Cadman prepared his own bayonet, hooking it onto the end of his rifle with a soft click.

He took a deep breath and about-faced. His head barely topped the edge of the trench, and if he stood on his toes, he could see over the top. Not that there was much to look at. The constant artillery barrages destroyed what was once a beautiful landscape. Any trees that somehow managed to stay upright were little more than burned carcasses sticking out of the ground like skeletal hands reaching from some unmarked grave.

Another atrocity committed by the Colonial Menace. He would make them pay for every fallen tree, every crushed flower, and ever burned blade of grass. For his mates who have died, and those who would die today; here and now.

"Soldiers!" Came a booming voice. The voice of his commanding officer. "To Victory or Death!" Cadman took a deep breath. A shrill whistle echoed up and down the trench. Without hesitation, he pushed himself up, swung over the edge and charged forward.

His comrades roared as they went over. Cracks of sniper rifles were drowned out by the screams. No one paid any heed to the men who fell. The time to mourn them would be later. Cadman stayed on his path, only shifting to dodge the craters and barbed wire scattered across the landscape.

Bodies were strewn all over the place. Some filled the craters, others covered the barbed wire. All of them were in various states of decay. The ground was soaked with their blood. But Cadman ignored them. It would not be his time to die. If it were, he would die in the enemy trench, with his bayonet covered in their blood. He would have fired at least one full clip from his rifle. He would not die in vain.

The sniper fire had stopped, replaced instead with the hail of machine gun fire and mortars. Now, the Wardens died in droves. Whole groups of men were ripped in half by the automatic fire. New craters were formed, with body parts strewn throughout.

But now they were close. Cadman could see the dark green helmets just a short distance away. He dove into a crater before any of them could spot him. A soldier behind him was not so lucky. Three rifle rounds pierced his chest before his body tumbled into the crater. Cadman only glanced for a moment. He had much more to worry about. He prepared a grenade and steeled himself up. He pulled the pin and flicked the spoon.