I peer nervously over my mug to see if Billy has noticed the time yet. Maybe, if I’m very lucky he will forget and we’ll never have to go over! But sure enough, just as I expected, he glances at his watch on the stroke of 5 minutes to 11. He would be perfect. We can tell from the look in his eyes that it’s time to get ready; he doesn’t need to tell us, but he beckons anyway.
There were 50 men on our ship, they could have all have died. They could have easily all have died. The whole world could have died for all I knew. We are as easy to knock over as dominos. Just like one huge trail of dominos running all over the world and Germany has knocked the first one over. All it took was a casual flick, a casual flick to kill thousands. Maybe millions. Just like a trigger.
I have a bitter taste in my mouth of baked beans and fags. I can’t get it out so I swish around my spit constantly, partly in an attempt to dilute the taste, partly just for something to do. I can hear bombs. Bombs, funnily enough, are reassuring. It’s constant. It’s better than silence - silence…who knows what the silence could mean? The Germans could be attacking - anything; anyway I prefer the sound of bombs. You know what? It’s like a lullaby, constant, reassuring. My adult lullaby. When I was younger my mum used to sit me on her warm lap and murmur ‘baa baa black sheep’ into my ears. It was the echo of my child hood. The representation of what was my childhood was. And that’s why bombs are my adult lullaby, they are my adult life.
2 minutes.
.
Blondie has killed the rat now, he’s got it’s tail in his fore finger and his thumb and is swinging it just like a pendulum. Swinging the seconds away.
God, time goes quick.
I can’t help but start to feel nervous, I can’t help it. My hands beg, scream to fidget. My legs scream to run away. I scream to stay put. I have to see this through.
I position my hand on the dirt floor and push myself up. It’s like everything is in slow motion. My hands progress slowly through the air and my feet shift gradually beneath me. I move at snail’s pace to get my helmet and I pull it over my head and stand pointlessly in the middle of the room.
I’m going to take all the time I want to die.
“Come on, Fire…”
I forgot to say…Fire…that’s me. My real name is Sam. My fighting name is Fire. I got it after I set fire to a shed accidentally when we were doing our training. We were all stuck inside it; rescue men had to get us out. We would have all died if it wasn’t in training, but it was a joke to us.
“We need to hurry up” Ace looked scared. Ace is never scared
“Blondie follow me and Billy, you go with Fire.” I smiled weakly at Billy, one thought running through my mind: this was it.
“ Has everyone got everything?” No answer. No answer means yes.
“Gas masks?” No answer.
“Helmet?” No answer.
“Don’t go until the whistle.” No answer. Like we would!
And this was it, us four going into battle, just like we dreamt when we were kids. It’s sad that sometimes dreams come true. I feel stupid in all this protection stuff. There’s no point. What the hell can a helmet do? When a German is standing over you and going to kill, what the hell can a helmet do?
“1 minute men.”
What life is this? What life? A miserable life that’s what it is, a heart wrenching life. So terrifying I’m too terrified to scream. So awful…I’m too…I don’t know. I can’t thing of a word. Petrified. Horrified. Terrified. There’s not a word on earth to describe the feeling inside of me. The hopelessness of it all. People dying: you don’t appreciate the monstrosity of it until you see it. Until you suffer. That’s why these things never stop, because the people behind it haven’t suffered.
1 minute.
They don’t know what it’s like to see a man’s last look, to hear a man’s last scream, to watch a man’s last breath…before they die. The same man that only a couple of hours earlier you’d said good luck to. They don’t know what it’s like. My nerves are yelping now. I have never been more scared.
We are standing in a line with our partner. No words are being spoken anymore: there ain't no ranting from Jimmy and there ain't no jokes from Ace. There ain’t no tapping from me and there ain’t even a whiff of smoke form Billy. There is no sound at all. We all just stand in a dead silence. Waiting for the-
And then the scream of terror we are all feeling blows into the night.
The whistle.
And we run, we hurl over the barbed wire, cutting ourselves and not even noticing. All of us run. We’re blinded by the guns, the smoke, the death, the chaos. I look down and am surprised to see my legs still moving. I thought I’d be dead by now. In a new hope I fire, aiming for the sky. I carry on running. Into the pitch blackness - into no-mans land. I hear shrieks ricocheting off each other, bullets, explosions and silence. Hundreds of men are with me, all their faces reflect mine: sheer horror.
My heart pumps. My breath is quick. My throat is too restricted to scream. My eyes are burning. I am going to burst into flames. Bullets fly over my head, missing it by half an inch. People are dying everywhere. I stumble. A flash of a man with blonde hair falling to my right. A flash of a man with black hair falling to my left. A flash of a man with brown hair falling in front of me. I’m not going to think about who they are. We are all dying. The faces of the enemy are the same as ours. They fear us just as much as we fear them. Not much of an enemy. We’re all the same, all fighting for nothing. Every one of us doesn’t want to do this yet we are the ones that suffer.
It is utter chaos, men screaming for their mothers, men screaming for themselves, men screaming their last scream. I’m in a tangle of bodies, my head is getting punched from all directions by arms, legs, heads. A huge sea of men merging into one, we surge forward as one and pull back as one. Just like the sea, just like waves, we are a body of water fighting to live, but we are drowning.
Everyone at home is screaming in my mind, but they shouldn’t worry I’m not going to forget them.
Suddenly I feel my feet slip below me and know it is the end. I stare up at the sky that is blotted with men and wait for my killer. It will just take someone to notice that my eyes are open or that breathe is leaving my body to go in for the kill. I carry on staring above me, and then one man’s head turns downwards and spots my open eyes. He has rough cut beard and dark hair. He looks like death. This is my killer.
The whistle has blown.
I’m going to die.
His brown eyes meet my blue and only when he has turned away does he pull the trigger.
Three kisses to Mum and Beth.
I’m dead.
XXX
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 34