I'm the enemy

Chapter 1- In the beginning

Bang. Bang. Bang. That was sound of the bullets, shells and bombs richocheting through the air. It was nothing new to anyone who heard it. After all, it had been going on for two years. Two long, arduous, wasted years. Hardly anything had been achieved. The death tolls rose every day and with them came waves of sorrow, desperation and anger from both sides. Letters home were penned expressing condolences but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. They weren't just soldiers, they were fathers, sons,brothers, uncles, husbands, nephews, friends. Each one had someone out there that loved them and knowing that sent spears of pain through the chests of everyone who knew them.

As an army nurse, Lucille Ansel was familiar with those emotions. She spent her every waking moment trying to save injured soldiers that arrived. She grew attached to them and was always determined to keep them alive. Lucille knew what death was like. She saw it every day. Watched as the light left their eyes and they exhaled their last breaths. Failure. That's what it was or at least that's what Lucille saw it as.

She sighed as another man was brought in. Another innocent man injured purely because of this foolish, unnecessary war that nobody except the governments wanted. Most likely, this poor man had joined the war for patriotic reasons, believing the propaganda and thinking that he would earn glory and be seen as a hero if he signed up. It was for king and country after all, she thought sarcastically. She sighed again and went about trying to heal the soldier.

Bang. There were the sounds again. Lucille looked up and gasped. Stumbling into the medical tent, clutching his chest, was a soldier. Yet that wasn't what she gasped at. No. It was the state he was in. Blood saturated his uniform making its colour indistinguishable as it bled from gashes and bullet wounds, purple bruises covered his skin and his dark brown eyes were dull, reddened and sunken. She stood and tentatively walked over to him, gently grabbing his arm and leading him to a bed.

"Monsieur, I am an army nurse. I wish to help you but I must first ask your name?"

Ernst Wolf's Pov:

The woman had said she was an army nurse and that she wished to help him. That seemed fairly straight forward but his brain kept lingering on that sentence, repeating it. Then he realised why, her accent didn't sound like it came from the Central Powers. It sounded French, which was of course a member of the Triple Entente and the enemy. The thing that cemented this thought as fact was the use of 'monsieur' followed by English. If she was from the Central Powers she would have addressed him in German or another language from those countries.

He thought for a moment trying to recall his knowledge of either English or French to respond.

"My name is..." he hesitated, obviously he couldn't tell her his real name because that would identify him as German. What should he say? "John. John Miller." She smiled kindly at him and wrote it down.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Lucille Ansel and I'll be in charge of your recovery"

"That's a pretty name" he said unthinkingly

"Thank you, now I think we'd better get started don't you?" She said, gesturing to his wounds. He nodded. He had no choice, he had to pretend he was an Ally. He had given an English name and entered their tent. He could hardly walk out now. They wouldn't let him, and even if they did they wouldn't believe he was German. Or worse, they'd think he was a spy and shoot him instead. So he sat still and let her examine him.

He heard her gasp as the true nature of the wounds were revealed. Angry, jagged cuts, bullet wounds gaping open and dark bruises marring his skin. His skin was blue with cold. The nurse, Lucille pulled his socks and boots off too, checking for trench foot which he thankfully didn't have. He'd seen the other soldiers' feet affected with the condition and the disgust and sympathy he felt could not be empathised with. They had to use small rations of whale oil to treat the condition and for some even this was a hopeless case. He let out a sigh of gratitude.

She looked up "I'm not hurting you am I?"

"No not at all. I'm just glad to be alive."

She gave a smile "I like your optimism but it isn't guaranteed that you will live. I hope you will of course but just know that. " He nodded in understanding, the whole war had been like that and he'd known that it would be like that as he signed up but he'd rather have signed up of his own accord than have been conscripted. If he had have been conscripted he would have gone along with it even though he hated the war and the thought of killing people. He didn't deny the bravery which most called cowardice of the conscientious objectors who adamantly refused to fight. He didn't want to be arrested or killed though. He supposed the war had been inevitable, trouble had been brewing in the Baltics for a while and most people could see that a spark was about to light. Others denied it as much as they could until the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand where everyone resigned to their fates as the countries of Europe where quick to take sides. At the announcement of war he'd seen devastation as expected but in some women's eyes there was a fire blazing as they prepared to take over and run Germany while their men fought. People took a patriotic view of this aside from a few, Ernst included, who begged for it not to be true and pleaded with God to end this war soon. Now their faith in God was dwindling and their patience wearing thin. It was 1918, four years since this wretched war, which many knew as the Great War, though there was nothing great about it had begun. Too many deaths had occurred and now those men, who meant something to someone out there, became a figure, a number, meaningless and forgotten. They didn't deserve that but this damned war had desensitised them all beyond recognition and now they were used to the constant tally of deaths and injuries. All normality and joy had faded from their lives and was now a distant memory perched daintily on the horizon, ready to disappear at a moment's notice.

It was in his mind's absent wandering where he fell upon memories of home, he lost himself in these thoughts of happier times and a sentimental softness came over him. His family crowded round their table as dinner cooked. His sister, Margot would come down the stairs wearing a new frock and he would make some comment paired with a teasing smile. She would pretend to be put out and then punch him in the arm with a laugh, claiming he knew nothing of women's fashion anyway so why should she care? Without even realising it a small smile had risen to his lips and his eyes had glazed over in contentedness. He was forced back into reality when a woman, Lucille he remembered quickly, gently shook him with an apologetic smile "I'm sorry" she murmured "That was probably the only time you've had to yourself since the war started"

"Don't worry, it's nothing" He returned her smile

"If you're sure" He waved that away "I was just going to tell you that I've finished with your wounds"

"Thank you. Will I be able to go back and fight now?"

She laughed but quickly stifled it, apologising. It was a beautiful sound "Non, no you may not go and fight. You must rest and allow them to heal properly. Four years with little rest can have a toll on someone I'm sure. I will return in the morning. Call if you need anything"

"When will I be able to leave?"

"It depends. We'll see. Good night Mr Miller" The name jolted him for a second but he quickly regained his composure, his brain reminding him of the alias he gave her.

"Call me John" He said before his eyes slid shut and he sank into a much needed rest.

Author's Note: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed my new story I'm the enemy. What did you think of this chapter? Please vote and comment if you enjoyed it as I really appreciate it. Constructive criticism is always welcome too so don't be afraid. Thanks for reading. :-)