Midnight Glory

Chapter I

I was brought into a world of restless nights and horrific day-breaks.

I was entrenched in my own grave, surrounded by towers of sandbags. The environment gave off an aura of fear and nostomania. The world fell into the upmost insanity and men became insane themselves. What haunted me was those who did not become so.

The black velvet sky was slit with streaks of green or red during the night, depending on the situation of firefights. They made our steel helmets and moving bodies slightly more visible. Our silhouettes were anonymous shadows that lurked here and there over the nightly hours.

We traveled around the trench network like ants in their dugouts underground. For almost a few days now, the thundering made by the artillery shook the earth and our hearts. Everyone said that the bombardment should weaken the German lines to make our upcoming offensive an easier task.

Yet we received the same bombardment back. Luckily there had been less firing from the Germans than before, which means that we should be hitting our designated targets.

I wondered if London itself could hear the explosions of the shells, or maybe even our cries. There were men here that were torn apart due to the shell bursts. Either we were killed or stunned by the barrages.

Seated on the firing step, I wrapped my worn out arms around my legs and listened to the land crumble. Small rivers of mud ran down from the parapet and some dry pieces of sand sprinkled onto the ground. At least the nights were cooler, since it was midsummer now. It had been raining lately too, so our offensive was postponed to tomorrow morning. The rain stopped just a few hours ago, and everyone resumed to their preparations.

The glassy orb that floated alone in an endless realm in which we called our home still disposed of its men, and I soon might be one of them in these days to come. No one knew who would go, as war took the unknown as we faced the unknown.

I sighed and rested my head against the wall. Every now and then it would shake and I would jolt, then sink back down into despair. I came here to search for my brother and my brother only—-but how must I return back home? One could not just walk out of war, you must fight until victory or defeat—or survive at the least.

I gazed ahead me, imagining myself trekking through the grassy plains near my home.

They seemed surreal to me now that I have been in this war for a few months. The old shack, I remembered, stood far up a hill that George used to occupy as our hideout. I remembered the soft breeze penetrating its way through the cracks of the rotting wooden beams, and the fine mists that rose from the coastlines of Covehurst Bay. It would chill me and George as we travel through the night back home. . .

"Private Acker?" I shook off from my sentiments and glanced at the man who spoke.

"Yes, Sergeant Barkley?" I grittily responded and stood myself up.

"Bring some ammo for Langston. He'll need it for tomorrow." I accepted the order and began to carry it out, meandering through our underground castle, with mud and clay as our walls.

Thick smoke began to gather in one pathway in the trenches at an intersection. It was the way I was destined to head down. I darted my eyes around. My palms became slippery and I struggled to maintain the grip on my rifle. I inched slowly into the fog, and smelled the pungent stench that was not meals for soldiers.

This was not smoke from the field kitchen. . .

I soon found myself clinging onto the wall and my stomach churned so violently. Heavy, uneven breaths spun within me and my helmet seemed to have weighed down. Sweat started to trickle down my forehead. I choked on both my breath and hot tears as I tried to regain myself but nothing seemed to work. My legs shook and I felt as if my guts were about to flip. I had seen the deaths of others and it haunted me every time, but this death came to my eyes so closely. I trembled like how I had been on the first few marches into no man's land when I first arrived into this forsaken, bloody war.

Already flies had found their own meal and the poor few lay scattered in multiple parts. Bits of the uniform and the remains of their corpses lie with smoke rising above them, their charred bodies made my breathing cease for a moment. Heaps of flesh were lining parts of the trench walls and I felt as if my entire system of nerves had shut down.

The last thing I felt was a soundless scream squeezing my lungs before I dashed off. I shoved soldiers out of the way, hearing the shufflings of their feet moving frantically and chaos erupted in my pathways. Was I running in disgust or fear? I could not comprehend. Other soldiers muttered curses and shouts at me, but nothing resisted to me since all I could see was a speedily rotating world.

"Sergeant Barkley!" I tried screaming, but he didn't respond. "S-sergeant Barkley! Sarge!"

"Where's the ammo, private?" he immediately asked, narrowing his eyes at me in disapproval. He scanned my face. "And what's wrong with you?"

"I—I saw—-"

My throat was tied by ropes of emotions and I began to cry. Why must this bloody war be as so? My comrades are dead! Langston needs no ammunition! My eyes stung from both the pieces of the war and the tears that felt so rough. My nose ran and I fell to the ground onto my knees. I dug my nails into the hard ground as if they were as soft as the quilts I would sleep under back at home.

"A shell!" I managed to spit out. "A German shell!"

"You've been here in the front and had fought for a few months now. Did you know you're the most vulnerable of my men?" he hissed. "You're acting like you've never seen a shell before!"

"Langston is dead and so are a couple others! A German shell had hit them!" I finally confessed and continued to hiccup.

I could not make out his expression since all I could see was a disarrayed countenance as I looked up. I wiped my nose and eyes, but by then Sergeant Barkley was no where to be found.

I stammered back to my position, awaiting for tomorrow's offensive. A line of soldiers came by, causing the lamps to flicker. I watched as they passed by, wondering if George was one of them. Once they all disappeared down a network, I sunk back down and pulled my rain cape over me as a blanket.

A couple other soldiers on the opposite side were smoking on cigarettes and talking about how they hope to destroy the Germans tomorrow. I heavily exhaled and removed my helmet. It was a perfect night as I rested my head down to gaze up above.

Maybe George was somewhere doing the same.