All is Fair in Love and War

Battle Of Belleau Woods: Descansa En Paz

Luz' (POV)

June ?, 1918

A/N... I know Blackbird is not from 1918, but it did release in 1968... sooooo 3 of the 4 numbers are similar enough for me. I also adore the tune and somehow dislike the Beatles?

TW (⚠️) for chapter:
-Blood (I think)
-Death
-Shanking
-Gunfire/Explosions

I had gotten stabbed on my arm on the way back when helping August. Some nearby explosion or something had caused some loose glass shards to fly into my body. I could feel pain in my back, but it wasn't near as intense as the pain in my arm. I was going to ask for a bandage or something, but then the General asked for someone to go back out.

The boy who died was clearly close to General Darius(with the amount of pain I could see in his eyes), so I didn't hesitate when crawling back out to maybe help soothe the pain a little.

Sounds stupid, but at least he would know the boy had died and the mission had been completed in his honor. Or something like that.

So here I was, crawling back towards the trees, part of my ear blown off, my leg having been skimmed, and a stab wound in my forearm that I was currently treating. My definition of treating was something along the lines of yanking the glass out, pouring water on it, and then wrapping it with spare cloth while crawling back towards the trees. And August had touched my ear. That had hurt like a bitch, but I could pretend it actually was healing me somehow.

Now that I had been to the trees and back, I knew getting to them was the easy part. It was getting out of them that served the difficult part.

I think the glass had completely been removed because I didn't see it in there, but I was also pretty sure that I was convincing myself so I wouldn't pass out. I tightened the cloth around with teeth, shoving the excess into the already wrapped cloth. Good thing I was at the trees.

Now here was the awful part. I went through the steps in my head as fast as I could, building up enough adrenaline to take off running.

#1. Run through the trees, yelling "Get back! French artillery!"

Simple enough really.

#2. Don't get shot.

Not to bad.

#3. Get back to the trenches, or out of explosion distance before the artillery blew me to bits.

That would prove to be the worst part, but who knows, maybe after the battle, I would get an honorable discharge because of my 'heroic efforts'. Only if August got one to though. "Okay, here we go," I muttered, the adrenaline building to its peak. I jumped to my feet, having already taken off the backpack to remove excess weight.

"Get back to the trenches," I sprinted through the trees, surely drawing attention and bullets towards myself. "French artillery are, WAHH!" A German soldier jumped out in front of me, firing his gun, missing me barely as I dove at his legs. I tackled him to the floor, his rifle flying a couple feet to the side. He tried to reach for it, but I wrenched his body sideways, throwing him into a tree.

"Go back!" I shouted at him, hoping he would understand. He just screamed in rage, and jumped on top of me, punching me in the face. "Shit," I shoved him off, unsheathing my bayonet. "Sorry, 'bout this!" The bayonet entered easily, and came out quickly too. His breathe hitched as he looked down at the gaping wound now in his side.

I gaped at the bayonet that was now dripping in a dark liquid, and then chucked it to the side. I got to my feet and ran away from the dying man.

"Descansa en paz," I mumbled, feeling horribly, yet continuing to run.