Jon stared blankly out at the sunrise.
He did anything he could to not look down. He didn't want to look down at the bodies left behind after the war. He didn't want to look at the burnt, blackened shells of what had once been a thriving town. He closed his eyes and sighed.
"Oh God, if you're there, hear me now. Help me. I've sinned. Oh, God, I've killed. Those I've killed didn't deserve to have their lives taken from them, and yet I took it. I look around me, and even if the bodies lying here are those of mothers and children, and not soldiers, God, those who killed these innocents are no different than me. I killed to, God, and now I come crawling to you for absolution..." he broke off with a derisive laugh.
"Speaking to your God again?" Rueben asked from behind him. Jon turned and smiled sadly.
"Yes."
"You're mad. God's forsaken us in this war."
"Perhaps."
"I know it. You best bring yourself to that reality, Jon, or your God's gonna get you killed. You'll rush out there like some possessed preacher, and you'll get cut to ribbons by the thousands of bullets that'll pierce you. Nazis," he said, and spat.
"No politics or religion at the dinner table, boys," Tommy smirked, and came to stand next to them.
"Bugger off," Rueben said.
"Where's Lukas?" Jon asked.
Tommy shrugged. He turned away, and headed down the small rise. Rueben sat down, opened his pack, and took out an onion he'd found a few miles back. Jon finally looked at his surroundings, but he still tried to block them out, looking only for one thing: Lukas.
Jon finally saw the man.
He walked towards him, watching the man, thinking on what he knew about him. Lukas wasn't much of a talker, but eleven months with the same people tended to get you to share. He was the son of a preacher, and his father had told him he would always be useless. Lukas had subsequently enlisted, to prove his worth. He had been shot in the shoulder, and the recently deceased medic had had to dig the bullet out, and Lukas had screamed. Later, he had cried on Jon's shoulder, saying he just wanted to go home.
Jon looked at Lukas now. Lukas was digging graves. Lukas was going to bury the dead.
"We respect the dead," he muttered when he saw Jon staring. "If I die, I'd love a Nazi's woman to bury me." He lifted the body of a what had once been a pretty young blonde woman, not dead more than two days. He gently put the body in the ground.
"Don't care about maggots and the like. I figure I have no dead flesh for them to feast on, but if I do, I don't mind getting eaten alive anyhow." Jon looked into Lukas' eyes. They were dead.