Lost in Hell

Prologue

Belgium, December 23rd 1914.

Mud, blood and death. That's the only thing you find here. Rats as big as cats and constant shelling on our position. I thought it was an adventure, I was wrong. I hope I come back in one piece. 

- James 

I wrap up the piece of paper and put it in my bag. I've been in this shithole for about two weeks now and it's been my worst nightmare. From the moment this stupid war was announced I knew I was ready. My dad, my mum, my friends. They all knew they were ready to do they're duty. Yet we were terribly wrong. This isn't how dad described it. I've seen the cavalry, I've seen them charge, and I've seen them shot to bits by Jerry at the other side: The part the recruiting officers didn't tell me about. 

Tom, my only friend and neighbor, he went through training with me. He went on the boat with and is in my regiment right now. He's taking a piss right now while I'm waiting here. In my "Hole" (that's what I call the thing we sit in). We've been stationed in Belgium, somewhere. I don't even know what the nearby places are called. They haven't told us shit. Some soldiers don't even know how to hold a rifle properly. I'm just ashamed to be a part of this shit. Trenches filled with men, but not soldiers. And don't get me wrong, I'm not a soldier either. I haven't shot a rifle in days. I only shot it once, to check if it was working. The trenches are shitty. They're full of mud and the wooden planks don't really work against literal canons. 

"Hey, Cronin!" 

The voice wakes me up from my thoughts. I look to right where the sound came from. There he is: Tom. The overhyped young boy is walking with a jolly walk towards me. He's waving with his hand above the trench. What an idiot. I stand up from my hole and watch him walk like some kind of child towards me. 

"Hello Tom.", I say with an annoyed tone. "How's it going then?", the boy says with his happy voice. All the soldiers around us look at me like I'm the imbecile. I might as well be because I'm the friend of this monkey. "How does it look, Tom?!" I begin to lose my temper. This kid has been annoying me since the boat we came with from London. "Well, you look quite exhausted. Like a sleepy cow." The boy begins to laugh, he's the only one that does. I sit back down in my Hole and Tom sits next to me. "So, how long has it been since you've had a proper wank!", Tom says in his childish fashion. Now all the soldiers around us in their Holes look at me and my pet. I feel my face get red. "Tom will you please keep your 'tomfoolery' to yourself. I'm trying to rest, and you're not helping!" My strict words don't affect Tom at all. I didn't expect it to work anyways, I've been trying to shut this kid up for the last two weeks! Tom looks at me with that classic grin and says: "Someone is sensitive! Fancy a game of cards? It gets your mind out of the mud." I look at Tom. Then I look at the soldiers around us: they're back to their own stuff. I look back at Tom and say: "Fine, but not because I like your behavior. If it was allowed I would've shot you a long time ago." "Is that a yes?" I put my bag on my lap and take some coins out of it. "How many franc?" 

After winning a decent amount of franc from Tom I go back to waiting for something to happen. War isn't as exiting as you may think. It's quite boring to be honest. Half of the time you're just waiting for Jerry to do something. We don't really go 'Over The Top' yet. I've heard stories. I've heard a dozen of them. They all scare me. I don't want to run into walls of lead and eventually die because of not a bullet but a silly shell that was shot miles away from here. No one wants that, expect Tom of course. All he talks about is "fixing bayonets and putting them deep into the heart of the 'Hun'". I hate that phrase: 'the Hun'. As if they're not humans like us. I bet they have families like us, only difference is that they speak German. I haven't even seen them. 

I look at my rifle. Sturdy but clunky. Some mud and scratches on it. I look at the bullets inside. Still nine, and one in the chamber. Ready to fire. Safety is on. Hopefully it stays that way. Tom sometimes shoots at the sky. Just to do so. To say to his mum that he shot a rifle. I just can't imagine the joy he has. It's so, childish. I got it when we used to play in our backyards with sticks and stuff, but I lost that childish magic when I stepped into very this trench. He however, hasn't lost it. It's still the same boy with the same smile.

"Cronin!" I hear the shout coming from Tom. "What now Tom, I've already told you: you're not getting that money back. I won it fair and square." "No it's not that. Not now anyway. It's the sergeant, he just said that he got intel from the communication line and they fear there is gonna be an attack!" That sentence sends a shiver down my spine. "You..you're joking right?" "No you wanker, I'm dead serious! Get your bloody rifle, you'll need it!" That grin again. He's ready, I'm not. Internally panicking I check my rifle again. Nine, and one in the chamber. Barrel as clean as a recently cleaned kitchen floor. 

"RIFLES READY!"

I stand up. With trembling vingers I switch the safety off. The click makes my hard beat faster. I stand up on the shooting board and look over the edge: nothingness. Just grey. I look around me. Men around me are just as worried as I am. My first combat experience, horrific. I look back at the fog. And then I hear it, a distant sound. A kind of zooming noise. But then it gets louder, and louder. As if the demons from Hell were coming to get me. Which if you look from that perspective, they were. "That's Jerry!" I hear a man beside me scream. "Get ready boys!" I focus and look through the iron sights of my rifle. Still just grey. And then I see one. 

He wears a grey uniform with red textures and golden buttons. His army cap isn't really a cap but more a medieval helmet with a pointy thing on it. He's holding a rifle, just like mine. And he's screaming like Hell. And the last thing I see is the bullet in his head. He's dead, actually the moment he came from the fog he was already dead. There he lays. I look at Tom and his smoking barrel. "If that doesn't give me a medal. I don't know what will!", he grins. "Stay focused, there are more to come!" I look forward and here they come.

A wave of men in grey uniforms come storming out of the fog. To be immediately met with their death. Tom is having a Hell of a time. He's just clearing the whole field at this point. He'll take on the whole German army if he has to. "Come on James, shoot a bit. I takes some stress out of you.", he says while reloading. I look at the absolute carnage we are giving the Germans. Men getting shot. Men getting blown apart by mines. Men bleeding out in pools of mud. Not soldiers, just men. "I just can't Tom. I just can't pull the trigger." I go back to my Hole and lay in there. "What are you, a bloody pussy? You've come all this way to shoot some Jerries and when you get the chance you don't even shoot your rifle? You should be ashamed of yourself!" "I didn't come here to shoot some Germans, I came here because you pressured me into doing this!" "Oh, so I'm the bad guy now? I don't know if you've noticed James but the bad guys are standing right in front of us. So if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna be the good guy now." "Those are not the bad guys, they have families too you know!" Tom ignores me. He's to busy being a murderer. I cover my ears and wait till this mess is over. 

When the attack is over I look up from my Hole and see all the soldiers have stepped back from the edge. Except one: Tom. "What in the bloody Hell are you doing Tom! Get the fuck down from there!" "Wait a sec, I believe I saw one last of those buggers somewhere." "Tom don't be stupid now, you're gonna get yourself killed!" Tom doesn't listen he's just standing there. 

And before I know it I'm covered in brains of my only friend. 

In shock I fall back into my Hole and begin to cry. I look at the face of my now dead friend and only see a hole. I pluck all the pieces of skull and brain out of my hair but it doesn't help. The memories stay. Tears are leaking from my eyes and I just want to scream and forget everything. I throw the coins from my pockets on the bodies as if that's gonna help. I've lost him, I really have.