Boom! Boom! Boom! The endless explosions came all around, throwing dirt and mud everywhere. Yells of agony and terror filled the air as thick as the smoke of a million bonfires that burnt into eternity, which were soon deafened by the roar of the cannons and the whistle of the shells.
The endless barrage rained down in countless numbers, consuming horse, man, and trench alike in a symphony of fulminating anguish that blinded the sun with earth and lead quickly funneling out of control. The men who were stricken were not to be saved; they were buried by the next volley which churned them into the barren earth, as another part of the conflict that seemingly stole men's souls in the night.
For, in due time, those who survived, found that their souls became as bleak and horrid as the land that stood before them. All seeds of hope and love were torn asunder, as each man languished on. Though they might survive, they were dead all the same. Never to know the peace or happiness or serenity as men who have not seen war. Grim faces, that had no remorse, no sadness, no feeling. They simply trotted on, deprived of their humanity, they became a tool and nothing more; as the guns they shot or the barbed wire which tore their skin. They were tools.
This den of woe and despair is not even meant for the most resolute of men, let alone a child. As a flower which blooms in spring, so too is this child, but as a late spring frost which makes ruin of the beautiful bloom, so too is its life is quickly stolen away, leaving only the withered and dead, whose harvest then shall bear no fruit. Darkness is left then as a reminder, but not one often heard.
One must wonder if it is foolishness or folly or innocence, which drives boys to war. To fight for a spirit of enduring which they, so young in life, had neither recognition nor erudition of. It is a mystery long pondered and commenced upon. To some, they are bored, going to have fun, to others the allurement of the uniform, still others the sense of duty to their land which compels them onward. Whichever one or any it may be, the drums of war still beat, still ring onward. Its hypnotic intonation rings about the hearts of men, and wherever it goes it rings the cry of death to which men so jubilantly flock, to the ever beating drums of war.
It would evermore be as thus, but one participant was their like all the others, on his free will. But the method in which he arrived was inadvertent plight which landed him among the perils of a godforsaken war in the godforsaken hell of no man's land. This young man found himself lying in a crater, dug by an artillery shell, with his rifle by his side trying to, like a mole; dig his face into the ground for protection. His hands quacked as his held his helmet with all the force of his being, causing them to turn a crimson red, as the bombs and shells fell all around.
His stone gray uniform was muddied and wet though relatively fresh in nature, which was extremely rare in the nightmarish reality of the trenches. Fully equipped with ammo bags, leather knapsack, canteen, and two stick grenades on his belt, he was an intimidating sight for anyone in the enemy trenches. Forming the elite group of soldiers known as the Sturmtruppen or Storm troopers, their primary task was to run headlong against overwhelming power at the enemy's impediment then to lob their grenades to destroy the machine guns and weaken their entrenchments, and finally serve as the forlorn hope until the main infantry arrived. It required an enormous amount of fortitude or audacity or recklessness, or maybe a little of all three. All those were things that this particular private did not posses.
He yelled in bewilderment as the cascade of explosions rocked the earth around him, deafening his cry of panic to the wind. And then, all became silent. Not rifle, nor pistol, not a bird, nor a voice could be heard. And a breathless calm overcame the trenches as the fog of the shelling lingered in the low places, blanketing the area with a white cloud which cast eerie shadows upon the wreckage of iron and barbed wire that stood across no man's land.
The private looked around, his heart ready to burst from his chest, at the foreboding nothingness that surrounded him. For a moment the waves calmed into a gentle swell that soothed the private's mind. He turned onto his back to see light smoke travel overhead, whisking a brief lull. His mind drifted as he tried to remember … how he had go there in the first place, where was home? He didn't know for sure, but he remembered the gentle caress of the grass, and the taste of fresh water, and feeling of warmth which was never a comfort in the always flooded trenches. He embraced the sky and thought of the feeling of love, which he hadn't known to be so worth wile.
His mind drifted over a sea which turned into a torrent when a sharp whistle broke over the silence. "Gas!" was the cry that sent the trenches into a fury of fumbling and panic. Trepidation like no other before swept the Private's every being. He felt at last, his life taken away, his every fiber twitched in anger and ferocity and fear all of which gripped him all at once and sent him into a blind frenzy of confusion.
His primal instincts took over, he jumped from the foxhole into the emptiness of no man's land, running toward the enemy lines, not understanding or comprehending what he was doing, yelling and spattering incoherently as he ran full speed into a line of barbed wire and there he sat. Entangled and in agony at the grinding of the pricks tore his skin off his bone. Close enough for the enemy to rid him of his misery but denied a quick death because of the fog which obscured everything around. He struggled to lose himself, tearing himself rapidly until he finally freed himself.
He turned and ran; ran to the place he had come. His feet became heavier, his mind distorted, and his throat and mouth start to burn until it progressively choked his living being. He grasped his throat as he raised one arm to heaven as his body crumpled on the ground. Pain consumed him as he became blind, breathing out his last gulps of sickening convulsions alone. Life strangled away and all became dark around him…
I know it's out there but the next chapter will make sense.