My Mad Doctor

Chapter 16

A/N Sorry, this one is really sad. Not Moffat sad, but I feel I did pretty good. Brace yourselves, I guess. 

Violet’s P.O.V.

I awoke to the entire dugout shaking. Shouts rang from all around me as men scattered throughout the room, scrambling to put clothes on or grab weapons. I sat up quickly, shoving down the embarrassment of being in my pajamas next to a group of half naked men. That wasn’t important. The importance of the situation was what the men were saying.

“Oi, men! Report to your positions. Germans advancing through No Man’s Land! Everyone grab a rifle and shoot the Fritz down!” General Sexton shouted from the entrance to the dugout.

The men finished getting ready hastily and followed him out the door. General Sexton leaned against the wall, but there was nothing casual about his posture. He was as taut as a wire. I knew that he would only stay a second to warn me.

“Stay here, girl. Don’t come out of this dugout.” He closed his eyes for a second, then took a deep breath.

“What’s your name girl?” he asked.

“Violet Grace.” I replied softly. He nodded, then handed me a rifle from the wall.

“Well, Violet Grace, if the German's do get in, this is for you.” I shook my head, confused. There was no way that I could fight of an army of Germans with one rifle I didn’t even know how to fire.

The General seemed to realize that I didn’t understand, so he made his message clear.

“You have two options if they make it in. You can let them take you prisoner, or…” his voice trailed off, and I knew what he meant. Apparently death was the kinder option.

I nodded and placed the rifle beside my bed. The General sent me one last sad look before running out to join his men.     

~~~~~~~

Gunshots and screams rang through the walls of the dugout. I sat in a fetal position, clutching my head to block the sound. It was unbearable hearing the men I’d just met being slaughtered. I swore that I would never make a joke about war again if I made it out of this alive. No one can hope to understand suffering until they’ve been to a battlefield.

As the screams continued for minutes that felt more like hours, I grew more and more restless. How many men were dying out there? What if it was General Sexton, or the men I’d woken up to? Reality reminded me that they were all dead by the time I was born, but knowing they died and hearing them die were two different things, as different as different could be.

After nearly an hour, the men had not yet returned and I was starting to go insane. Not truly, but it felt like it. The rational section of my mind began to disintegrate and I found myself imagining ways to free the men and end the war. They all made no sense and would surely get me killed; yet I couldn’t help it. These thoughts seemed to drive my mind to a state of madness beyond my control.

Before I could convince myself otherwise, I was running out of the dugout and into the chaos. I gripped the rifle tightly to my chest, my eyes wide and frantic. Luckily, I was still inside the trench, so none of the Germans were there. None of the wounded soldiers noticed me crawling around the trench in my pajamas, though. The rest were over the top or dead.

I crawled up to the edge of the trench and lifted my head over, the rifle still tightly clutched to my chest. It was too dark to see what was happening up there, but the sound of gunfire and explosions nearly deafened me.

It was then when I noticed him. General Sexton was lying about twenty feet in front of me in the mud, blood covering his left leg. I could tell he was alive by the steady rise and fall of his chest and the frantic motion of his eyes. In that moment, I knew that I couldn’t leave him.