((I would love to get reviews! Ideas about what can happen in the story are also very welcome. How more reviews, how quicker the next chapter will be on))
The trenches were full of mud, every few meters a soldier with a rifle, shooting at the enemy. Alfred was running towards the other end as fast as he could, he had to deliver the message to his superiors. Regularly a big explosion boomed through the sky, throwing dirt into the trenches. They were under attack by the Germans.
His heart was pounding like crazy of fear and exhaustion. The piece of paper was already covered in blood and mud, almost unreadable. But Alfred knew what was in the letter. And it wasn't really good news. A huge explosion knocked him of his feet, falling into the mud. For a few seconds, the only thing he could hear was a beeping sound, kind of annoying actually he thought.
Then slowly the sound started to return, screaming of injured people, bombs still raining down on them. Alfred crawled back on his feet and tried to run, but he was still to dizzy. He put his hand on the wall for support. And then suddenly the most terrifying yell of all. ''Gas! The gas is coming!'' the voice sounded in panic, without any hope left. Alfreds heart stopped for a moment, his eyes widen with fear.
He saw his fellow soldiers grabbing for their gasmasks. ''Remember the training…remember the training'' he kept repeating to himself, as a mantra. But he was too paniced to keep calm, especially when he noticed he had lost his gasmask. He was going to die! He thought in panic.
The young soldier wished he was back home, scared like hell. He was only 18 years old, just old enough to go into the army and fight for his country. Alfred had counted the days until he had been able to enlist. His family wasn't happy about it but they accepted his choice eventually. Now, he could only think about the green hills at his own village, a calm and peaceful life.
Alfred looked back and saw the gas coming, a cloud moving towards him, soldiers running away from it. When he finally regained control of his muscles, he turned around and started running, away from the poisonous gas. The letter, he dropped, but he was too scared to think about that. The gas was gaining terrain, coming closer and closer.
The bombing had stopped, just like the shooting. Alfred stumbled over a rifle laying on the ground, a dead soldier next to it. He gagged in disgust but saw the gas coming closer. The young soldier tried climbing out of the trench, into no-mans land, his feet not finding much grip as the ground beneath them began to crumble and slide down.
By then, the gas reached Alfred, making him cough terribly. His eyes felt like hot coals, dropping tears until Alfred was totally blinded by them. His lungs felt like they were burned alive. He managed to get out of the trench, lying down totally exhausted. He saw green uniforms coming closer, before blacking out.
The next thing he saw a ceiling, a grey and boring ceiling. His eyes still ached so he closed them rapidly. Slowly, he was remembering he wasn't at home in America, nor in the trenches. His home had white ceilings and the sleeping places in the trenches were dark. Alfred was thinking deeply to figure out where he was.
He felt he was lying on a trestle-bed, no blankets or pillow. He also didn't hear the snorting of his fellow soldiers. His eyes widened in panic when he felt something heavy around his ankle, before closing them again and putting his hands over them, moaning softly. When he recovered a bit, he peeked a bit, looking at his right ankle. It was indeed what he expected, a chain. His gun was missing, just as his knife. But he was still wearing his uniform, smelling like the gas.
He was clearly not in the trenches. Slowly, the memories returned, the trenches, the letter and the gas. And the green uniforms. Alfred looked around, his eyes only opened a bit. He saw the chain around his ankle was tied to the wall. There weren't any bars around him so he wasn't in a cell.
He could hear voices, not in familiar English but in a harsh, barbaric sounding language. German, he supposed. The door opened, light falling in and someone entered. ''Aah, die lazy American has woken up'' the figure in the doorframe said. The voice had a pretty bad accent and it took a while before Alfred understood what the German was saying.
''Was is your name?'' the foreign soldier asked, doing a few paces towards him and closing the door behind him. Alfred glared at him, although it was rather difficult with almost closed eyes, and refused to answer. ''You damn nazi! Where are my friends?!'' he shouted angrily, before starting to cough, sounding like he was choking. The effect of the gas had still not faded away.