Explosions. Gunfire. Death. It all seemed like a very subtle dream to Al. Everything was blurred to him, nothing was in focus. He couldn't feel his body, it had become numb, but he attempted to control it anyways. He stood and stumbled forward.
Things aren't the same here.
All he could think of was the letter. And he didn't know why, but his mind kept drifting away from the action and back to it, over and over again. Somebody was shouting at him. They seemed close, but far away. He felt something tug his shoulder, and he moved with the motion.
It seems as if the laws of equivalent exchange don't exist here.
Al saw an enemy in the distance, and he shot at it. The man tugging him tapped his gun, and Al ceased firing. He couldn't see if he had killed the enemy or not, but he felt the ground shake with the slightest thud, and he had a feeling he had succeeded and his shots had hit.
You can't think of things like that here. You'll go mad.
The tugging ceased, and Al toppled over something. He felt below him, and warmth crept up his arm like insects. The warmth ended, and he stood to continue forward, or whatever direction he was headed.
When you kill a man on the battlefield, he receives nothing in return. It is simply kill or be killed.
Al heard mumbles around him, but he understood nothing. For all he knew, he could be trampling into enemy territory. He didn't care, because he knew that, whatever he did, he would die if he stopped moving.
We could do so much more at home.
He knew he could give up. He could stand still and let himself be taken to a much more peaceful place, at least that was what he believed. He began to slow down.
Here, a single man can't do anything.
Al had almost ceased moving entirely. He knew he was in a ditch, so he lowered himself down, guns blazing around him. A soldier flew into the sky above him, while his foot landed with a 'thump' onto the ground in front of him. Al's senses were so dim, he couldn't smell the scent of blood that he was sure had filled the air, or the sharp sting of stench coming specifically from the soldier's missing foot.
One man can't make a difference. It takes the force of many to change this world. You or I can't do as much as we planned. However, we can rely on those around us to aid us in our efforts. We aren't all here for the same reason, but we all want good to come out of this.
Al felt a sharp, and yet dulled by his lack of sense, throb on his head as it was shoved into the ground. He could vaguely made out the words "Get down!" from the soldier next to him as a tank rolled over the ditch. Had his companion not come, he would have been crushed like a rat.
The best a man can do in this hell-hole is to save the man next to him. All we can do is lift one another's spirits. If one soldier's depressed, it wears off on the rest of us.
"Come on, man, get moving!" The soldier shouted at Al. He called something to someone across the way, and Al assumed he was asking for help. He was hoisted up underneath both arms and dragged across the field of war.
Keep moving forward with your comrades. Don't die on me, Alphonse.
"Elric! Come on, buddy, you're gonna get left behind!" Al slowly forced himself to stand as his ears rung and sound came back to his world like an avalanche.
"That's it, get yourself up!" The second soldier that had helped Alphonse up shouted over the shells. Al nodded, and followed him into the German's town. The three crouched low as they trotted by the side of the road closer and closer to the destination.
They had reached the middle of the small town when Alphonse took cover in a barn. He reloaded slowly, taking time to catch his breath. Suddenly, he heard shouts outside and quick gunfire. "They've got support!"
"Enemy tanks!"
"Gaaahhh!" Al felt the ground shake and tremble, as if the world itself feared the enemy.
"We're outnumbered!"
"Retreat!"
Al stood and dashed towards the door to the barn. He opened it to see bullets fill the wood, barely missing him. He closed the barn door and pressed his back up against it. He heard German shouts. He could just barely understand the language, but he got bits and pieces. "Two... door... guard... kill..." Al heard steps coming towards him. He saw a ladder going into an upper loft of the barn, and he quickly climbed up it. He dived into a stack of hay, and remained there as the German troops opened the door and surveyed the area. Al heard one climb up the ladder.
"Do you see anything?" One asked. After surveying the loft for a few seconds, the other soldier replied 'no' and climbed back down the ladder. Al had to hide a relieved sigh. He contemplated what he was going to do.
After a while, the German soldiers were ordered to leave the building. Al took the time to make a better, and more comfortable, hiding spot. He would wait until nightfall to find a way out, since it was more likely for someone to stumble in at the moment.
Night came at a sluggish pace. Al grew cold, as it was fall. He showered his warm breath on his hands like a mist, and warmth streamed down his arms, but then the cold would overtake him with double the sting.
He glanced in each direction once, then twice, and then quietly climbed down the ladder. As he reached the door, he pressed his ear up against the ice cold wood. He heard no voices outside, but just to be sure, he threw a wood chip at a building across from him through a window in the barn. One soldier trotted into view from the window towards the noise, and Al thanked himself for making sure no one was outside. He quickly sneaked back to the door, and slowly opened it. He peered through the small crack he had made, and saw no one. He opened it a bit more, and was drawn back by the sight. German soldiers lined the walls, each sleeping. Al shut the door at a fast but silent pace and backed up to a post in the barn. He slid his backside down it, exasperated by his dilemma.
Night turned into day, and Alphonse awoke to realize he had fallen into a deep and calming sleep. However, his realization of the world returned to him, and he found himself hungry, thirsty, weakened, sore, and overall miserable. He searched his pack for food, and only found a few pieces of bread. He ate one, and stored the rest back in his sack. He stood, his legs screaming for mercy, and surveyed the barn. There were two big doors on each end, about five separate windows spread throughout the walls. One was in the upper loft, the rest on the floor. There were eight stalls lined up with uneven space in between on each side of the room. No animals were inside, except for a barn cat, which Al didn't expect would cause much trouble.
The day went by as Al wondered how he was going to get out. Some soldiers came inside to check the building every once in a while, but Al always stayed hidden from them.
Don't die on me
Another night came, and Al decided he was going to attempt an escape. There was an open spot in the road where Al couldn't see any guards. A window led right onto it. With darkness as his veil, Alphonse hoisted himself through the window with one arm, and dashed across the open road and pressed himself tightly against the next building.
Don't die on me
He crept along the side of the house and ran across a street to the next one, and the next. When he came to the third crossing of his journey, he missed the tank coming toward him. He couldn't get out of the way by the time he reached the middle of the intersection. He did something so instinctive, it felt like his comrade had shoved him onto the ground again instead of himself. He collapsed onto the hard dirt, and remained there as the tank passed him over. Dust and earth flew into his face and covered his body. By the time the vehicle passed, you wouldn't have been able to notice that someone had been underneath it.
Don't die on me
As soon as Al was positive that no one was around, he stood back up and started dashing towards the end of the town, desperate to get out. He heard shouts coming from the Germans behind him. There were footsteps, constantly gathering together like a beginning storm. Then gun shots sounded like lighting all around him, each one closer to him than the last.
Don't die on me
Al's heart was pounding like the constant beating of thunder. The only thing he focused on was his speed. He never thought of the placement of his footing, shooting back at the enemy, or hiding somewhere. He needed to get away, as far away as possible.
Don't die on me
After an eternity of running, Al spotted the forest where his comrades had been hiding. "Hey, it's the enemy!" A man shouted.
"What are they doing!" Another added.
"Doesn't matter, kill 'em!"
"Stop! It's one of ours! Don't shoot!" There was a moment of silence among the men, then commotion erupted.
"Elric!"
"It's Elric!"
"Come on, Elric, run!" Men continued shouting and encouraging Al, wanting him to make it back alive. Al continued running, the encouraging didn't effect him. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his right leg, and he stumbled and fell. The soldiers yelled at him to get up, and to keep moving forward. He slowly lifted himself as he felt a second throbbing in his left shoulder. His arms left him, and he was face down in the grass.
Don't die on me, Alphonse.
Al stood and continued, his feet moved like that of a newborn cow. He swayed back and forth. Finally, he made one last leap into his comrades' ditches.
"Don't you die on me either, brother."