The Long War has finally halted. Not in victory or defeat but in ceasefire. A war that has destroyed the land. Across the continent villages and cities have been depopulated and starve. Orphans and widows suffer greatly from the loss of loved ones. A drought caused the yearly harvest to fail. Ending in famine. Many died that winter. The emperor hearing the discontent from a favored assistant quickly decreed the creation of the Strategic War Relief Department.
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The Front Line
Final month before the ceasefire
“Sergeant, the new recruits have arrived. The colonel is expecting another assault from the enemy.” A younger, but battered blonde haired corporal said. The sergeant, a large burly man stared towards the sky. Rain clouds covered the once blue sky with nothing but dark grey. “Corporal, how old are they this time?” The corporal stared across the no man's land. “Just out of high school. Most have not even graduated. Their squad leaders are those that have graduated.” The sergeant sighed.
Kids. More kids. He remembered the start of the war. In fact, it was his teacher that had got him and his class to join in the war. In less than four years. All but him and his friend the corporal remains. Now he leads a platoon of recruits to cover a front of no more than a thousand chains long. A tall order.
The sergeant grabbed his kit and walked towards the assembled group of thirty boys. They looked skinny. Terrified even. He could see it. Their eyes shifted about. The explosions from the enemy artillery sends them shaking and ducking. Only the corporal and the sergeant remain standing looking at the shaking mass of recruits.
The sergeant stood calling the boys to stand at attention. Most tentatively stand up and form a coherent column, six wide and five deep. The sergeants move checking each boy’s rifle. He noted the rust on them. Nothing like his shiny rifle from his start in the war. The imperium must be getting desperate. However, the enemy must be as well considering that every shell they fire has a chance of not exploding.
“Listen, we need to defend this line at all cost. Simply because, if they break through the enemy will gain ground” the sergeant said with a tired sigh. His voice monotone at the idea that he would probably lose most of these boys. “Break into your squads and defend your sectors of fire. Any questions?” He looked on at the wide-eyed looks of the boys. Their hand’s shaking as they grip the barrel of their rifle.
The sergeant looked at the platoon for a moment before speaking. “Alright, follow me. I’ll show your positions.” He beckoned with his hand as thirty boys followed closely. Ducking and shrinking under the constant thudding and explosions of artillery. The entire time the sergeant walks with his head high and back straightened. As if the acts of violence from the enemy was a regular walk.
After showing the platoon their position. The sergeant pulled his corporal for a final talk. The sergeant did not know why he thought it would be a final moment. Maybe it was a feeling, a tingling sensation in the air, but he felt like this would be the last time he would speak to his friend. “Corporal. I need you to take the left flank. Make sure those kids live. Make sure they cycle the bolts on their rifle properly. Don’t want them to just pull on the thing. We’ve seen it. Where the terrified will just cycle the bolt and not fire a single shot. Remind them. Do you understand.” The corporal just nodded placing a hand on the sergeant's shoulder. “See you later” he said.
The sergeant found a spot to peer over the trench next to a recruit. The petrified recruit looked at the sergeant with big black eyes. The fear etched into his eyes. “Relax soldier. What’s your name?” The young boy took a deep breath. His hands still trembling. “Hynrich. Hynrich Kobala.” The sergeant simply smiled. “If you relax, you’ll make it. Got it?” Hynrich simply took deep breaths. The worry remaining on his brow, but his hands steadied ever so slightly. The sergeant placed a hand on his shoulder. Before he noticed the silence. He looked around shouting “get ready. Here they come.”
The sergeant turned to his left to see a recruit try to peer over. His helmet silhouetting the terrain behind him. The sergeant reached a hand out trying to pull his collar to get him down. When a single shot rang out. The poor boy’s brains splattered across the side of the trench. The sergeant giving up on the action readied his rifle and shouted the order to fire. Along the trench line the platoon fired en masse.
He saw the enemy in their tan uniforms as they scrambled over the cratered landscape in front of the trench pausing to cut the barbed wire a head of them. The sergeant called on the recruits around him to focus on those very men. The rounds tearing the enemy to shreds. However, they eventually used the corpses of their fallen comrades as stepping stones to advance. The sergeant cursed when he noticed a small group close to the trench hide in a shallow crater. “Grenades, toss them in that hole there.”
He prepped the short stick grenade and through it. The grey headed grenade hissing as the fuse started the detonation of the explosive powder within. Landing within the crater. A short scream followed by an explosion was the last of those combatants. Then it happened a high-pitched yelp brought the sergeants attention to his right. Hynrich was grappling with an enemy. The bastard had Hynrich pinned with his rifle against the trench. Turning the sergeant pulled a hammer and brought the blunt instrument against the helmet of the enemy.
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He saw as the blow caused the soldier to spit blood into Hynrich’s face. Hitting him again caused the soldier to lose the remaining strength which pinned the young recruit. When the sergeant saw his face, it was as if time had stopped. The pale faced recruit was stained. His throat had a light blue bruise from his own rifle. Then he raised the rifle firing past the sergeant. Who turned to see three more enemies coming over the top. The sergeant fired at point blank blasting one in the face. Then using the butt of his gun slamming it into the chest of the second man. The blood spraying all around him.
The sergeant then looked all around him as he cycled another round. The enemy had broken through the line. However, they were stuck in this trench. “Men, to me. Regroup with the left flank” he looked towards Hynrich who nodded. Leading the way the sergeant fixed a bayonet at the end of his rifle.
Shuffling down the line the sergeant links up with the remains of the squads within the trench line. He noted the bodies of the young boys. Stab wounds, some with their skulls bashed, others with fatal bullet wounds. The sergeant noted the tears in some of their eyes. He approached one who was still bleeding. He was gripping his own intestine from a bayonet wound. The sergeant simply finished the deed. Hynrich knelt and whispered into the ears of the dead recruit. “May the goddess guide you on your journey. I pray for your travel.” The sergeant waited for Hynrich to ready his rifle before continuing.
The small group continued fighting with the enemy the entire time. The sergeant cleared each long line by having himself and Hynrich fire side by side. Then charging forward. His bayonet was slick with their blood. Then it happened. The world began to explode around him. The sound of whistling shells deafened him. He pulled on Hynrich’s collar and the recruits behind him followed in suit. They ran down the zig zagged trench line before reaching the left flank.
It was pandemonium. The enemy had focused their attack on the left. The trench was full of bodies filled with friend and foe alike. The sergeant inspected each corpse stabbing the enemies' bodies and having Hynrich check on the comrades that were strewn about on the trench floor and walls. He noted the blood that began to pool around his feet. Then he stopped. Hynrich being shorter than the sergeant walked into his back. Looking past under his arm. He stopped. Standing and staring at the lip of the trench.
The corporal’s body was stuck to a bunch of barbed wire. The explosion must have launched the wire and wrapped itself around the corporal. Around him were the bodies of recruits. Fighting for the body of the corporal. Some were killed clutching the wire. Trying to unwrap this macabre gift. Others had stab wounds from enemy bayonets. All around this group was the corpses of the enemy. The sergeant walked gingerly towards the bodies.
Hynrich watched on as the sergeant began to pull at the corporal’s body. Finally freeing him from his iron prison. His corpse cut to shreds from the wire. Then he noticed it. The silence. He looked around and noticed that the assault was over. He watched as the sergeant had placed the corporal on his back wiping the blood from his matted blonde hair. Hynrich took count of the remaining men. Ten. Out of the thirty-six at the start. There was only ten. He looked at the boys that was with him. He didn’t know them personally. His friends were dead. Probably mixed with the corpses within the trenchline. He walked carefully towards the sergeant. “Sergeant, with us remaining there are twelve left.”
The sergeant simply nodded. “Prepare for a second attack. There is a telephone over there. Call for reinforcements.” Hynrich simply nodded and made his way to the phone. The sergeant blinked upwards. Rain. The droplets began to fall. The grime of the battle began to be washed off his face. He rubbed it looking at his grubby hands. The sergeant looked around and climbed to the parapet. He watched as the small group of survivors began to clear the trench. All the while he looked towards the enemy trench line.
An hour later more recruits and soldiers formed along the trench line once again. A lieutenant arrived. Her hair tied into a tight bun walked towards the sergeant. “Sergeant, name’s second lieutenant Abigail Winceslaw. I bring both good and bad news. You and your men are relieved. The good news. The war is over. A ceasefire has been reached. We’ll remain here. Watching the line.”
The words hit the sergeant like an artillery shell. The war was over. This was the final act of violence in a war that lasted a decade. A chill ran out from his body. He looked towards the corpse of the corporal. The blood washed away from his body from the rain. He walked over. Looking at the necklace that laid on his neck. Kneeling down he opened the necklace to reveal a photo. A young girl. A mother. A father. The sergeant looked up towards the sky. The color of which was a dark grey. The war was over. He looked back down to see Hynrich walking along a line of bodies from the platoon. Kneeling over and whispering into the ears of the dead.
The platoon assembled around him in a clearing behind the line several hundred chains away from the trench. He looked at each man. Who stood at attention. Their shoulder’s slumped in exhaustion. He looked at Hynrich who stood at the head of the group who looked at the sergeant. The sergeant noted that Hynrich had a pouch. Probably stuffed with trinkets from the dead to give to their family. “Well, soldier. What will you do now?” Hynrich looked at the sergeant with a look of surprise. “I am not too sure sergeant. Probably console the dead. We came from the same village after all.”
The sergeant stared at Hynrich whose pale face glowed in the dim light from the cloudy skies. It was Hynrich who turned the question on him. The sergeant looked confused for a moment. “He had forgotten about peace. He looked around him as if trying to make up an excuse. Hynrich made an offer that touched the sergeant. “You could come with us, sir.” The sergeant simply smiled. “That’s fine soldier. I’ll come at some point, but first. I must find my way.” Hynrich simply nodded. “Sir, may I have your name?”
The sergeant nodded. “Owen. Owen Albrecht.”