For Honor

"Fuck this shit." He said while taking a deep inhale from the cigarette he was holding between his thumb and index fingers. He puffed the smoke playfully through his nostrils and his mouth. After that, he spat close to where he was sitting to get rid of that damn bitter taste that smoke made. He clutched his hand around the rifle as if it was the only ticket he had to get out of this hellhole. He looked at the horizon. There was nothing to see.

Just the smell of destroyed rubles and ashes of gigantic buildings, which were mixed with spoiled meat of human flesh from days ago, was making his stomach upset to throw up what he had just eaten half an hour ago. Up there, it wasn't anything beautiful. Just the most melancholy and depressing color a cloud could have. It wasn't sure whether it wanted to rain or not.

"What happened, sweetheart?" His friend said with a jest; meanwhile, he held on to that serious face. That remark made others chuckle a bit.

"This whole ordeal is bullshit." He responded with bitterness. The acerbity of that smoke on his tongue was still lingering around. He spat again and took another deep hale from the cigarette. He was confused about what his body demanded from him. Did it want to cover that tasteless can of food? Maybe, the taste of bitterness was better than the taste of the thing that was called food.

"Ordeal? You are honoring me with such a big word. I didn't know that I needed a dictionary more than this." His friend pointed at his rifle. His friend still held on to that momentous face. However, it made others laugh harder.

"What's the point of this shit? Seriously, we just live and survive to die two minutes later. When I die, then why should I care who wins this shit? It wasn't my fight, to begin with. It was all began with one of those silver spoon-fed brats who thought his honor and ideology was under attack." He said calmly, but inside, he was boiling from anger. He didn't have a choice for it either. He was drafted as soon as the government ran out of volunteers. That small group was all drafted.

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"Yeah, you are right. Probably, right about now, that beautiful girl that I dreamt of marrying is moaning under one of those silver spoon-fed brats; meanwhile, I am hearing the moaning of people who just got shot. Isn't that right, Chengiz?" Another one joined the conversation. There was a smirk on his lips. He wasn't lying about the moaning. Some injured soldiers had their backs on the wall and were moaning at the persistent pain from the places where they got shot. They were clutching those wounded areas to stop the pain but to no avail. They were out of any sedation drugs. They had no choice but to deal with the pain. It was disheartening to know that at any moment, they could join them as well. Add to that, the whistle of mortar that was getting closer to their location each time by exploding; it was like tick-tock of a clock with booming sound. The zapping sound of bullets only found comfort in the things it hit. Be it an iron, concrete, dirt, a muscle, or a bone, it didn't matter. They were on a mission to kill or stop people from having a moment of peace.

"Speak for yourself. My dick is getting hard just thinking about what my wife is doing with that silver spoon-fed. You know she is maniac if she wants to be." Everyone laughed at his remark.

"Just leave it to Napolean to make you laugh while getting fucked in the ass." Another one joined the conversation. "Isn't that right, Henry VIII?" He exchanged his rifle to another hand to put his dominant hand on the shoulder of his friend.

"He is a fucking french. What did you expect, Adolf?" Henry VIII responded by that always smirk on his lips.

"J'aime le plus tes fesses." Napolean responded in return. No one knew what he said, but they laughed anyway.

"Those kinds of stuff are going to kill you before anything else," Adolf said with concern to his friend, Chengiz.

"Says the guy who just cooked his food on the asbestos." He returned the kindness.

"It is just a little bit faster to cook it that way. Sometimes, I think my food could escape if it had any legs. As a matter of fact, let alone the wife, I would give anything to have that taste of cheese and wine again." Adolf commented. Everyone laughed at his remark.

The explosion of mortar was getting closer.

Their captain shouted at them to stand on their feet. It was time to move on.

"Fuck this shit," Chengiz said, and it was directed no one. He threw the almost finished cigarette on the ground. He puffed it out deliciously. It was like there was no better pleaser than that. He stepped on it to put its light out. He spat close to where he was standing. He just didn't want to carry a bitter memory of it.