Over the Trenches

Chapter 2

It's been months since I was put out on patrol, hell, it's almost Christmas and I'm no closer to forgetting the 'incident' out in no mans land than I was the night it happened.

There's something about those eyes, those deep ocean coloured eyes. They bore into you and make you rethink everything about your life. Not like that made me sound really creepy or anything. God, it sounds like the most stupid thing in the middle of this mess of a war but just looking at him, a solder, my age.

It lets you know that they're human I guess.

Anyways, as I said, it's almost Christmas and surprise, surprise, this bloody mess of a war isn't over. In fact, the outlook is even bleaker than when I arrived. Pathetic it is, absolutely pathetic how every day good men are getting shot at and for what? No one here has any clue.

To make things worse, when you think about it the whole Christmas thing seems kind of pointless. Y'know with the whole war thing going on. You don't get to go home, see your family and exchange gifts over a Christmas dinner. You're lucky if you're getting a pair of socks.

Before my train of thought could get any more miserable, Greg jerks me out of my internal depressing monologue about how god damned awful my life is.

"What's with the face? It's two more bloody days to Christmas for heavens sake!"

"Two days? Time really does fly when you're being shot at and starved to death" I sigh, I don't have time for his sickening optimism. It gets a bit irritating after a while.

"Don't bother being the grinch who stole Christmas. We're pushing forward tomorrow morning, we'll make it to Berlin in we're lucky" He went on "Just think, a nice meal, a bath, a drink?"

"I could go for a drink about now" I grumbled into the sand bag that had become my pillow these last few months

"That's the spirit!" He calls as he blows out the candle. The only light source in the dugout might I add.

I couldn't be bothered to reprimand him or attempt to re-light the room so I lay down on my poor excuse for a bed and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Getting out of bed was hard, you would think, all things considered that getting out of bed would be the easy part. It is, but it doesn't stop it from feeling like hell every morning.

I suppose I am entitled to find getting up from bed hard. At least I am this morning. There's a good chance that today will be my last day on earth. Worse still, if today doesn't end with my death then there's an even greater chance that I will have to kill someone.

This is all because someone had the (not so) brilliant idea of going up over the trenches. The ultimate suicide mission. I guess the whole thing comes with two positives, if I live, I'll come back with one hell of a story. The other positive would be considered a negative in almost all other situations. I'll finally find out if I can kill a man.

With that cheery thought I pull myself out of bed, grab my jacket and my gun and make my way out of the dugout.

Everyone seems to be getting ready for going over. It seems I should too. I walk over to Greg who's hands are shaking as he cleans the barrel of his gun.

"How you holding up mate?" I say as I lean against the wall of the trench.

"Not all that great, I think your negativity is starting to rub off on me, shut your mouth next time eh?" He looks down at his gun again "That's if there is a next time" he adds.

"Woah woah woah! It's not your job to think like that. Think of Molly, think of that June wedding you were planning." I see a small smile at the mention of Molly's name "and hey! if I'm not your best man then I'll kill you myself"