The Little Soldier

The Last Hope

The stench of gunpowder and blood danced through the air in a deadly waltz. Automatics and shotguns could be heard going off in rapid succession, leaving little room to mourn each bullet that found an unfortunate victim to claim.

Time felt nonexistent in this once beautiful sandy plateau. It seemed to have been years since he'd last seen his family, despite having been on the front lines for no more than a couple of months. The little soldier, standing in the center of it all, barely held the capacity to keep fighting.

Sunlight beat down on his freckled face and sweat crept down his neck. Heat exhaustion was getting to him and the shortage of water did not help. The front lines were a difficult place to receive shipments and water was no exception. Any attempt at leaving their current hiding spot would mean certain death.

An ear-shattering blast from a missile making contact with one of their mechs ripped him from his trance-like state. Everything sunk back into focus and the soldier began taking note of the situation taking place within his immediate vicinity.

To his left, lay a wounded comrade. The wounded was being tended to by an under-qualified medic. He wore a dread-filled face as the glowing light from the palms of his hands flickered in and out weakly. This man was clearly not going to make it. Closer inspection led to him realizing the wounded was in fact, one of his bunkmates from training.

Benjamin, it's Benjamin, The soldier noted, solemnly.

The mud that dirtied his once blonde hair and many bruises on his round face made the wounded nearly unidentifiable. The only distinct feature remaining was the slit in his ear. Which, was a trophy the burley man had acquired during an accident involving the hazing of a recruit. God only knew how long it took to get him out of that tangled barbed wire fence.

He tended to bounce back like that though. It was a respectable trait any soldier would be envious of, Especially in times like this. Sadly today, his skill would fail him and fate would no longer be kept waiting. She was growing ever impatient.

Our little soldier bent down by his fallen brother's side and placed an arm delicately on his poorly bandaged shoulder, "Taking your time bouncing back eh? You've always been the lazy type, Benjamin."

Benjamin looked up with glassy eyes, biting back the poorly numbed wounds that decorated his upper abdomen. "You know that won't be the case this time," He half whispered. A small, sad, smile replaced his usually toothy grin.

He stiffened, "Don't say that."

"Always so sensitive," he attempted a wave of his unwounded hand, "Please, just keep pressing on for me. Will you?" The distant eyes locked in and began drilling a hole through the little soldiers, leaving no room for doubts or disagreements.

Tears carved thin paths through the thick coat of dust crusting his face. All he could muster was a small nod and thick, throaty, grunt in response. He was never good at outward expression, often leaving what he wanted to say, unheard.

It was not long before the dim light in Benjamin's eyes finally flickered away. Silence, or as close to silence as it could get in a war, swallowed him whole. Oblivion finally caught this man, in the trenches.

A mass of land emerged from the ground like a geyser, leaving the shallow trench in which they hid, exposed. The little soldier hit the ground with a thud and watched the once-busied medic make a panicked bolt for the nearest coverage. They would not make it either. It was a foolish attempt to simply run wildly through an open-fire attack. Now, the soldier truly was as alone as he'd felt. 

He lay next to his comrade hoping to not grab anyone's attention. The little soldier must not die, yet. A true man never went back on his word and neither did he. There was still a chance of winning this war if he could only survive long enough to serve his purpose.