War For The World

PROLOGUE

TRENCHES OF WAR

SEPTEMBER 1942

The gun rack shuddered. Its contents; dangling precariously off the ground, clattered back and forth. Their metallic thirst for blood seemingly unquenched by the past day's horror. The man beside them stood firmly at attention, or at the very least made an attempt to. With his hands shaking relentlessly at his side, a frantic continual struggle for breath and knees that were undoubtedly preparing to give way at any second, he would almost certainly be down within the hour.

The only other figure in the room was seated behind a makeshift desk. Consisting of two large wooden planks resting atop two barrels of oil, the desk wobbled back and forth as the hulking figure behind it sat with his arms pressed firmly against the hard timber. The desk had been one of the first requests by the captain, a poor attempt to bring a sense of normality back to the hellish dream they all now inhibited

Within the first few moments of the young lad entering his tent, Captain Cooper was able to make a few snap judgments on the soldier's character. It was a skill he had picked up over his many years training soldiers and sending them to battle. He prided himself on the ability to know straight away what sort of a man lay before him, whether or not he would die for his country and if he'd be able to work together with his new brothers. This sort of a skill was essential in his line of work as a captain of the US army, Cooper refused to die on the battlefield because some kid made a bad judgment call.
Standing there at just under 2 feet tall the young soldier at the foot of the tent sported glasses that couldn't possibly function under than many layers of dirt, a marines outfit that was clearly two or three sizes too big and a face that screamed he'd just found out what he had got himself into. Cooper was sure that the boy had a plucky attitude and a kind heart, but this was war.

"Captain Cooper, Sir"
"Yes soldier what is it"
The soldier's stance faltered slightly, with his face momentarily dropping to the floor, it was as if in this moment the mere sight of another human being was too much to bare; the dark brown floor of the tent offering a more transfixing and interesting story as his line of sight dropped to meet it. Momentarily bewitched by the lines and wrinkles of the tarpaulin floor, the young soldier began to lose his train of thought as his mind began to lock itself away.

"Soldier" Cooper growled "What is the issue"
Drawn back into the situation the soldier snapped his head back to attention, his voice breaking as he continued to speak

"Its Davison sir"
Cooper stared at him for a moment, the silence from within the tent interrupted by the occasional sound of gunshots.
"Davison the pilot?"
"no sir, Davison the lookout. No one's been able to contact him for several hours now, the boys and I fear he may have been backsaddled"
Cooper made a note on the boy's dip back into what he could only assume was his native northern accent. He would make sure this young soldier knew his place tomorrow morning but for now he let it slide.
"that lookout is integral to our own fortification. Without it we might as well be sitting ducks!"

The soldier nodded along as the captain continued.

"We can't afford to lose our position on the front line because one enemy marksman got a lucky hit"
Cooper went silent for a moment, his grey brow furrowing as he recounted back through the past month, more specifically being stationed on this rock of a field. Not one side had been able to progress past the other, both sides hungry for dominance and seemingly matched at every turn. Ultimately leading to a stalemate that had cost the captain large sums of manpower, willpower and; damned if he didn't admit it a hope for the future. Grey hairs that had started out as hidden fugitives atop his scalp were now charging through like a wildfire. A reminder that he most certainly wasn't getting any younger.
He recalled that this sort of problem seemed similar to that of the ones presented to him in training. One would assume it to be his captain training, though this was far from the case. No, the type of confusing and emotionally taxing training known to men like him as the last resort was known to the wider world as marriage counselling. It was a type of memory that caused a sting in what Cooper could only assume was his heart. His eyes shifted over to the locked drawer where she was lying, staring past that cracked sheet of glass and into his core. As her questions began crawling out from within, Cooper tuned her out.
"We need someone on that lookout 24/7" he grunted.
Cooper realised now that he hadn't received the boy's name. He lifted his hands and gestured towards him, rolling them around as if he were stirring the air.
"Private...."
"O'Donnel Sir, Chris O'Donnel" The boy replied
"Private O'Donnel, your group were given the all clear for some rest tonight were they not?" noting the dark purple insignia on his uniform.
O'Donnel could see the outcome of this conversation and the captain noticed his frame slightly faltering. No doubt he understood the risk involved in the task about to be bestowed onto him.
"That is correct sir"
"Ah, Good. O'Donnel I want you out at that lookout within the hour. Situate yourself there and radio in immediately afterwards, we need that area secure and callouts to resume as soon as possible"
O'Donnels frame once again faltered, slouching further accompanied by his arms going limp. This time however he made no attempt to rectify such a change. He simply accepted the new assignment and turned to exit the shelter.
"Oh and Private" Cooper added, stopping him in his tracks
"-Take Benson and Jones along with you. If this enemy marksman has luck on his side we'll need more than one person to man the lookout"
O'Donnel simply nodded glumly and exited the tent.

***

The world around him was a thick swash of grey and dark greens, with the occasional splatter of red for good measure. Loose ammo shells and scraps of debris littered the ground beneath O'Donnels feet. On his right side stood a muddied wall. Barbed wire protruded outwards from the barricade as dew from the cold night sky began to coalesce on the tips of the barbs, aggressively enforcing the idea of no mans land.