War Stories

Adam

Adam marched up the bloodied beach, the newfound M1 in his hands. Marching by the side of Aniston, his best friend since Junior High. Aniston reached over and punched Adam's arm, giving him a look that said completely and wholeheartedly, 'Hey, we made it!'

Adam grimaced at his friend, then looked around at the carnage they were marching through. Bodies lay strewn, the ones that survived were moaning, slowly suffering as they waste away. Ships had started to arrive on the beach. Small transports, sending troops over to help secure the area. The larger frigates and cruisers were still a little ways out, waiting for the all-clear to dock on the beach. There were still faint gunshots as the artillery bunkers were being cleared by the first division.

There was a breach in the Germans' wall of barbed wire, and at that checkpoint stood a shorter, gruff-looking man with 3 gold stars emblazoned upon his helmet. He spotted the pair as they grudgingly made their way up the blood-soaked sand. The small man gave them a hurried wave.

"Oi! Get your arses over here! We've got a load of mess to clean." His voice was high and grimey, with a rather thick Irish accent. The sort of voice a chainsmoker would have. Sure enough, Adam watched the man reach into the pocket of his jacket and retrieve a fat cigar, push it between his lips, and light it with a small silver lighter. He clicked it shut as the two boys approached him.

"What do you bastards call yourselves?" He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

Anniston stepped forward, "Sir, my name is Anniston Miller of Columbus Ohio, 22nd infantry." He then gestured to Adam, "This is Adam Calloway of Columbus Ohio, 22nd infantry medic, sir." Anniston gave Adam a glance that could only be conveyed as apologetic.

The man looked to Adam, who shrugged. He sighed, billowing more smoke, "Lieutenant Kervin Macs, 34th Navy." He looked back to Anniston, "I'm your field commander for now." He exhaled more smoke, "Get up into those bunkers and help with the push, we have another wave coming in." Anniston nodded and stepped forward to make his way to the stone stairs that lead to the bunkers. Adam followed.

Adam followed Anniston into a dimly lit bunker. He ducked through the doorway to find two other American soldiers taking refuge in it. The sat on a large ammo crate, sharing a canteen and talking quietly. They both looked up when they heard someone enter. Anniston stood in the middle of the room, observing they various weapons strewn around. Adam stepped over to the crate and sat next to the other men.

"What are you doing back here?" One of the soldiers asked. His voice sounded unnaturally feminin, as were his features. He took a drink from the canteen.

"We just made it off the beach." Adam said it with a dark tone, remembering the horrors he saw. "It was a massacre."

"Not just..." Anniston chimed in.

The other unknown soldier took the canteen from the one who had spoke, "The name's Sandler, this is Andy." He gestured first to himself, then to the man next to him.

"Adam," He said, "And Anniston." He made a faint point towards Anniston, who was still pondering where to sit, "Mind if I take a drink?" The one called Sandler passed over the canteen and Adam took a long drink.

"Where are the rest?"

"Not sure."

"Are they in the bunkers?"

"Probably."

"Why aren't you out there helping?"

"Reasons."

Adam sighed. "What would those reasons be?"

Sandler shrugged, "Thought we'd take a break." He pushed his bangs from his eyes, which fell right back where they were. He had darker hair with a tinge of red in it, which matched his dark eyes, which had a far off look in them.

"I agree with that, but why now?"

Sandler opened his mouth to speak, but Andy spoke in a small voice, "If you saw your brother nearly decapitated by some german fuck, would you not want to take a break?"

Adam was speechless.

Anniston sniffled.

Sandler closed his mouth.

"There was a flamethrower, and he happened to be in the way. His sleeve caught fire, so I helped him back to cover. We put out the fire, but then there was another german. He got behind me and threw me to the ground. He advanced on me, but Henry jumped on his back. He was massive. The german pulled a knife from his waist, flipped my brother over his shoulder, and jammed it into his neck, then pulled it through to the other side. His head hung on by a flap of skin." Andy's eyes watered. "I ran, but I couldn't get away from him. He caught my arm and was going to do the same for me, but Sandler got him before he could."

Adam looked to Sandler, who nodded. "It wasn't pretty."

Adam looked at his boots, caked in blood and sand. His eyes caught sight of Andy's pant legs, which were soaked in blood, presumably his brother's.

Aniston cleared his throat, "Damn. Sounds like we've all been through shit today."

"It's not over yet." Sandler spoke up, "Our allies are still out there fighting in the trenches, and what are we doing? Sitting in a cold, dark bunker talking about what we've seen. That's bullshit, we need to be out there helping them." He stood and stepped over to a wall where several rifles were leaning. He picked one up by the strap, crammed some bullets into his pocket and shouldered the gun. "I say we get out there and fight." He ducked out of the bunker, leaving silence in his wake.

Andy watched after him, silent.

Adam stood up and looked at Anniston with a questioning expression. Anniston shrugged, shouldered his rifle, and walked out of the bunker. Adam looked back to Andy, who glanced up. He gave a small sniffle, a tear falling from his face. Adam picked up one of the rifles and handed it to him. He took it without a word, wiped his eyes and stood up, following Adam out into the trenches.