A Broken Nation

"This new flag has to be equally a symbol of our own struggle, since on the other hand it has to be highly effective as a poster...an effective insignia that in hundreds of thousands of cases give the first impetus towards interest in a movement."

A fox walked down the streets, amid the accumulated atmosphere of depression and death. The pungent stench of filth and decay racked every sense. Filled the minds of those who would call the winding paths home with constant reminders of how far their once proud nation had fallen., the lingering wind of failure, the reminder that, without a doubt, the world hated them and everything they stood for. He walked past cooking fires fueled by mounds of Zootmarks, past the blocks of dilapidated apartments, that were in just as bad a condition as the putrid streets they bordered.

The memories came of their own accord.

"Don't do it, not again" Nick pleaded to himself as he ran the length of his assigned trench, dodging his comrades as everyone dashed to their assigned positions. The firing from across the crater ridden mud pit that was no-mammal's land had been slowly decreasing over the course of the last hour or so, this meant that the fools were going to attempt another charge across no-mammal's land. This had become the futile cycle of conflict. Charge, most likely to be repelled, followed by the counter attack. This cycle had claimed the lives of thousands upon thousands of mammals over the last four years.

He rushed to get into his position on the front line, a small machine gun emplacement, well-fortified due to its strategic value Where his loyal friend Peter Hains was already present, organizing the bands of ammunition.

"Bout damn time you got here, where the fuck were you?" managed Peter in between heaving boxes this way and that with surprising strength, despite him approaching 70.

His jab went without response as Nick settled behind the gun, his hands sweaty and his heart pounding. Despite being in this position many times before, Nick still got the shakes.

"I need to pull myself together, this isn't the first time, and it won't be the last." Nick mused, although his heart's rapid pace refused to slow.

"Listen Nick, whatever happens to me, I want you to know you are one of the greatest mammals I have ever met, and I am proud to have fought beside you"

Nick gritted his teeth. Peter always did two things every time battle was upon them, He gave this same speech, which Nick didn't like it one bit, every time he acted as if he would never return. He also took something from a tin he kept in his jacket at all times, and placed it around his neck. Nick could tell it was a necklace of some kind, though Nick could never see what was on it, and Peter wouldn't tell.

"For the last time Hains, I swear, if you don't stop telling me that, I'm going to bash your teeth in with your own helmet. Why do you keep telling me this, why do you keep thinking this is where you meet your untimely end?"

"Because one day, it might be true…"

Nick's ears tried their damndest. to pin themselves to his head under his helmet.

Peter huffed and gave Nick a wide grin. "So, you will have to listen to me give you the same speech until the day I die, or this blasted war comes to an end."

"Ha! This war will end when your civil war buddies raise from the dead to fight for us!"

Peter's grin dissipated somewhat, he had indeed fought in the Civil war, as part of the Confederate artillery under some general that Peter refused to disclose. back in his younger days. He rarely talked about those it, growing silent whenever it was brought up. Though, he would oddly stare at Nick when the subject did arise.

The gun finally prepped, Nick cocked the massive bolt, loading the first round from the belt into the chamber. Nick and Peter sat there, near motionless except for his shaking hands, as all was ready. This was the hardest part for Nick, the sounds of the trenches, normally an infallible companion in all hours of the day and night, grew ever more silent as each soldier found their positions, whether it was in emplacements like his own, or just climbed upon the trench itself hidden just under its sloping sides, protected, yet easy to poke for a mammal to poke his rifle up and fire.

All remained as it was for a few minutes, until a shrill whistle blew its call that wafted across the land resonating the message of a full-frontal charge.

It heralded slaughter.

Nick heard a resounding roar as across the way, he could see the wave of mammals rise from the trench and dash in a desperate bid to get across no-mammals land, though Nick knew they would never get to their destination, as much as he hated this. It was still his role, his duty to protect this trench. His fellow mammals in arms duty as well. They would remain resolute in their role.

They would not fall.

Nicks finger fell to the trigger about the same time as the incoming waves were a quarter away across. The blaring fire of the machine gun combined with minimum recoil from its massive carriage, made the grisly work appallingly easy. Line after line of mammals, ripped to shreds in an instant. The line of infantry lining the trench had likewise opened fire. Belt after belt of ammo was sent down field, sweeping the full range of motion of the gun, Back and forth, Back and forth, a waltz of death. None were left alive. All mammals remained in their positions for a good quarter hour, making sure all who decided to throw themselves upon the sword had done so, before slowly relaxing.

As customary, over the next few hours, the front line was switched out for part of the reserve, as Nick and Peter threw their packs among the reserve trenches' barracks they were called with the rest of their comrades to be briefed on an upcoming offensive. The plan was short and simple, not that it mattered. The plan was to employ a new tactic that had proven effective on other fronts. A new style of implementing artillery called a creeping barrage. From how their officer explained it, the artillery lines would continuously fire ahead of an advancing infantry force. Thus never allowing the enemy a place to regroup and mount quick counter offensives.

Peter, whose experience was known throughout the men he served with, despite Peter not elaborating on any of his experiences, and his input was always appreciated among the troops

"Sir, if I may be so bold, how are we to assault the enemy, if their frontal trench doesn't fall to this 'creeping barrage'? You and I both know that that first trench is barricaded to all hell."

The captain nodded, "An excellent question, one which I will not answer however. You will all come to find out soon enough."

The captain's answer didn't sit well until word began to circulate around the barracks as everyone was heading for bed.

A wolf burst into their trench-barracks. "Hey Nick, I saw him!"

"Wolford, what the hell are you talking about?"

I saw him earlier. That artillery officer they are calling Durchbruchmüller. He is here to orchestrate his symphony of our 10,000 guns, apparently, he is going to fire 3 million shells in 5 hours!

Nick knew the name well. He had earned a reputation on both sides of this conflict for his ruthlessly efficient work, employing a faster rate of fire then his compatriots. Earning his artillery strikes the name: 'hurricane bombardment'. Talk continued into the night wondering if the rumors were true, and maybe this was the secret the captain had withheld from them.

Nick had never seen anything like it in his life. Looking over the enemy lines all he could see was rolling clouds of ash and flame. It was like the end of the world, for the earth itself burned. Nick pitied his enemy, in their trenches trying to make sense of it all. Nick recalled something Peter had said when asked about why so many soldiers joined the military when a nation was at war:

"they are simply boys who think war is like Samson with his shield and spear and sword, like David with his sling. They do not know that war is now a conflict of smokestacks, a combat of the driving wheel and engine. Of splintered steel and toxic gas and melted lungs"

Peter had done the math the previous night, one hundred and sixty-six shells were to be launched every second. It felt like so much more. So much to kill kits barely away from their mothers. The entire trench watched hour after hour, until the barrage finally started to let up. At that moment however the call went down the line to ready for the assault.

Lines stretched for miles, mammals clambering to the rim of the trench waiting for the go ahead to charge into what might be certain doom.

Peter's voice rose above the clamor. "When we dug this trench we dug not dirt alone but legs, arms, skulls, helmets, all the debris of this mighty struggle. This is the reality of what they now face. An opponent who will not halt, and we shall let it be known, that it shall be their trenches we claim, their governments we shall conquer and it shall be their land we leave in smoldering ruin!" Nick's voice joined the clamor of resounding cries as the order was given and over the trench walls they went. The attack couldn't have been better planned considering the circumstances. The enemy hadn't had more than a few minutes of rest after the bombardment started to travel behind the first few trenches. The mad dash towards the enemy was uneventful until they were just over halfway across.

The first shots rang out as soldiers rushed forward from their holes and others reinforced, running through the now traveling artillery fire to strengthen the trench's numbers. Mammals to Nicks left and right flew to the ground has fire began to increase in intensity. Yet their tide would not be stopped. Into the trenches Nick and his comrades jumped, and began the grizzly business of melee. Nick rushed along the trench, trying his best to clear as much as possible. Due to the massive pounding the position had received, several areas of the trench remained just pitted ground, with no evidence that a trench existed at all. Nick saw a familiar wolf grappling with a deer who currently had his broken off antler in one hand and a knife in the other. Wolford had the antler in one hand and was trying to bash the deer with his trench club, but was having trouble finding a solid hit.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Nick let loose a resounding yell as he levelled his bayonetted rifle and sprinted the best he could toward the duo, his gut twisted when he thrusted the blade upwards into the deer's ribcage. A final blow from Wolford as his club smashed the deer's skull open and the body fell to the ground. A nod was all Nick got as the wolf turned continued the onslaught. Mammal after mammal fell to Nicks bayonet, the river of blood running across the floor, a river of mammal's life washing over his feet. Finally, Nick approached one of the final structures that lay on the backside of the trench's support network. The clattering of metal and grunts and sounds of struggle met Nick's ears, he approached slowly until a single cry emanated from the broken concrete shack. Rushing inside he found peter clasping at the shoulders of a wolf that couldn't have been more than eighteen, if that, an unfitted bayonet stabbed through Peter's chest.

Nick's stomach dropped as rage filled his heart. Rushing towards him, he dropped his rifle and drew up a trench club, a simple thing he had fashioned from a basic chunk of wood with spikes driven through it. The first blow stuck the back of the wolf's knee, the second onto the back of his head, as he dropped to his knees. Grabbing his snout and throwing him back, Nick stood straddling the young mammal's chest as blow after blow was rained onto his foe. At first, he attempted to block the blows as he threw his arms up, but eventually his arms dropped, yet Nick kept striking. Again and again, his weapon rose and fell with a grisly purpose, each blow extinguishing any remorse he had for his enemy, yet each blow doing nothing to lower his yells. His basic primal roar of hate, and of anger, of the need to utterly obliterate that which had taken so much from him. Eventually he ceased, his breathing heavy, as he stared at the crumbled bashed in skull of the kid whose life he had taken. He turned and rushed over to Peter, his eyes already tearing up. He held his head in his hands as he tried to figure out what to do.

"It's ok Nick, you can't win em all." Peter managed with a chuckle that turned into a wet wheezing cough.

"No man, not today, don't do this to me!"

Peter simply smiled as he gazed at Nick. "You look so exactly like him"

"Who?"

"When I served in the civil war…*cough* my commanding officer, was a fox… *wheeze* and he was one of the greatest mammals I ever knew, He looked like your twin Nick. He had your mannerisms, your looks, your everything."

Nick was at a loss for words at the strange things Peter was telling.

"What happened to him?" He managed to ask though tears continued to stream down his face as Peters blood began to accumulate on his arms and legs as he sat and comforted his dying friend.

"The same thing that is happening now. I was a young mammal, around the age of the mammal you just killed, I held him as you are doing now, and watched the life leave his eyes, a few years after making peace with the Union. During his final moments he imparted me with the necklace I am wearing, and I want you to have it. Let it be with you in your most trying moments, as it has been for me."

Nick simply nodded, not trusting his voice to not betray him by sobbing.

"Know also, that I gave you that speech at the onset of our every battle, because I believe it Nick. I hope you won't forget me. I have one request to ask of you, do not let them take me away and put me in a box. When I pass, please cremate me. The thought of being buried and becoming word food is not a thought I wish to ponder.

Nick saw the light slowly leave his eyes as he gazed up past Nick with a curious expression.

"One more thing, the general I served under…his last name was Wilde. Peter looked past Nick and gave a long sigh as his eyes grew distant, "I understand…I cannot wait until next time!"

And he was no more.

Closing his friend's eyes, he sobbed his heart out, knowing full well he had to attend to his friend's wishes quickly or he would be taken with body collection. Nick removed Wolford's necklace, not paying much attention to it. Wolford. was already laid out on the stone of the bunker floor, so he set his jacket ablaze with a match from his supply tin. He was worried the fire would simply leave a charred corpse, but somehow, he burned quite quickly and left nothing but a small pile of ashes. Thinking to himself for a moment, Nick took out Wolford's supply tin that the necklace previously sat in, having taken it along with the necklace. Nick set about the depressing business of placing Peter's ashes in the tin, gathering every last spec he could, before placing the sealed tin in his jacket.

Taking a deep breath, Nick stood up and stared at the younger wolf who had ended his friend's life. He looked around the broken shards and debris on the floor until he spotted Peter's service axe he used instead of a club. Picking it up, he found it was sized perfectly, as he had seen Wolford use it before, and thought it was a little small for the wolf. Moving back to the body, Nick gritted his teeth and removed the wolf's head, not caring anymore as to the identity of the mammal. He would make an example out of him. Skewering the head on a long shard of wood, Nick walked out of the broken building before planting the stake firmly in the ground. A warning for all to see, that this war had made another mammal purge last shreds of their mammality, war had forged another killer in its bloody wake. Nick swiftly rejoined his fellow mammals in their newly won trench, as they stared out another hundred yards at another trench, looking like the one they currently stood in had before Durchbruchmüller sent his wave of death across it. Shots began to ring out as Nick desperately tried his best to help rebuild the devastated trench as they tried to wait until the next artillery wave. Another trench, another assault, another close friend lost.

Nick's memories were once again interrupted, this time by the sight of a small large earned Fennec fox, who likewise was clothed in a brown suit with matching accoutrements. He was across the street from Nick and was screaming at someone, what exactly Nick wasn't sure, but he thought whatever it was, it was probably trivial. That was Finnick though, always the passionate one. They had first crossed paths on the long march home from the War. Finnick had been part of Durchbruchmüller's artillery. Nick was interested however, at Finnick's tale of firing a piece so powerful it could send shells seventy-five miles away. The depressing stink of failure wafting over the long column as they trudged home. Not only had their government failed them by signing that blasted treaty, but they were forced to acknowledge that they had started the war! Nick thought back with disgust as he had read what had been forced upon his home.

The Military had been heavily slashed, the Roarhr Valley, the nation's most important industrial centers, taken from them and occupied, damages and payments sent had forced his blessed home to spiral into the pathetic excuse for a country. Later, once they had returned, they joined the Freikorps, a paramilitary korps formed from many returning war veterans, that the government used to deal with civil strife. They had fought many a year in the Freikorps, including squashing the Spartacist uprising. They were unions and workers dedicated to the overthrowing of the government, violent in nature, they had barricaded streets and isolated themselves in city centers. When the Freikorps was called in to stop the uprising, Nick and Finnick spent days fighting from street to street, reclaiming the city block by block, building by building. Nick scowled to himself at how had they been rewarded, the Freikorps was forcibly disbanded by the government, to be stricken to poverty like so many pieces of discarded trash. Many members, Nick and Finnick included, found themselves drawn to other causes to serve.

Nearing his destination, he checked his uniform to make sure all was in place, his brown jacket neat and pressed. his armband shown off in the correct orientation before he stepped inside. It was a large open-air auditorium packed with people from all over the country mixed with uniformed individuals like himself. He waited with the rest and before long a medium sized German Shepard walked out to the podium and stared out at the assembled mass.

"We have been betrayed. We the people of our great nation have been cast aside into the gutters of history, doomed to be erased and forgotten. Why else would our own leaders even consider placing a burden such as the Treaty of Puris upon our shoulders. the onslaught of oppressive indignation, our economy, racked by the will imposed unjustly upon us. Our currency rendered as worthless as wallpaper and cooking fuel! We are a broken nation, SHUNNED OPPRESSED, and conquered by those we sought to escape! Many years ago, I asked for time and that time was granted by you... The strength in my arm, the holders of my dreams have given me your support, and this day I come to you to say that I return that faith! I come before you to say that those driven to divide us hear our voice, for this day we shall act as one!"

Nick never got tired of seeing the mammal speak, he was so animated, gesturing grandly and passionately on any subject matter.

"They would do the same to our struggle. They would seek to drive us apart from our own brethren, our own people. If you must take one message regarding our movement, let it be this. The most precious possession you have in the world is your own people.
And for this people… and for the sake of this people… we will struggle and fight!
And never shall slacken!
And never shall tire!
And never lose courage!
And never lose faith! "

As he was saying the last lines, he came to a roaring climax on his rhetoric, two massive flags were raised, one on either side of the stage. Nick smiled as he thought back to his presentation and explanation of his design to the Shepard. He had put forth his design in a contest between his fellow party members to help create the flag of their struggle. In the end, it was his that won out, with help, he had finalized the design. He had laid down a final form After long trials he also found a definite proportion between the size of the flag and the size of the white disk, as well as the shape and thickness of the insignia. It never failed to warm his heart to see his work so brilliantly displayed.

Arose into the sky a flag with a red background, a white disk, and a black swastika in the middle.

His hand raised in salute as his voice joined the crowd as they chanted with all their hearts.

"SEIG HEIL!"

References:

Georg Bruchmüller: German Artillery Officer who helped shape the artillery tactics of later wars. Most famous for the opening barrage at St. Quentin on 21 March, 1918 fired 3.2 million shells and inflicted 15,000 British casualties. He came to be known as 'Durchbruchmuller', a pun combining the German word durchbruch ('breakthrough') with his name.

Paris gun: Also called the "Kaiser Wilhelm Geschütz", the Paris gun was the largest artillery piece hit be used during the war. Considered a supergun, this harrowing monster of steel was capable of firing a shell 75 miles. Parisians thought they were being hit by high altitude zeppelins as no cannon or gun sound could be heard.

Maj. Gen. Peter Conover Hains: served in the Civil War, the Spanish-American War and World War I

-anyone who can name any other Easter eggs i used please post them in a review for a cookie!