The Writings of Garreth Webwell

A short story with a little introduction into the conflict on my fictional planet of Aldairia, written in the 1st person told by a diary entry.

 

 

From the Diaries of Garreth Webwell

 

I had never in my life wanted to get out of the war than I did now. My name's Garreth Webwell, I'm a nineteen year old stuck on the Falkircreek Line, been fighting for at least three months now. I'm a "proud" soldier of the 34th Royal Aldairian Regiment of Foot.

We'd be sitting in those foxholes for at least a week now, living off those horrible creations they call ration packs. I shared one with a man named Mickey Heen, and Charlie Rethedson. They were good lads, Mickey was a bit paranoid but I guess thats what you get for being in the fight for two years now. Charlie was his polar opposite, always calm, cool and collected - never once heard him complain or lose his temper, or even get scared. There we were, chatting away, Charlie was chewing away on a Ration K bar, while me and Mickey smoked and drank our tea, except the cigarettes left a stale taste in your throat, and the tea was essentially water with a bit of flavour and it was usually cold seeing as how you could never heat it up properly.

 

Anyways, it was about the eighth day in those bloody foxholes, and a light drizzle was in the air, not enough to get you wet but enough to bother you and give you a bad case of trench foot. So there we were, making nervous chatter, and wrapped up in blankets to keep your boots somewhat dry when the first mortar shell exploded nearby. You can always tell its a mortar shell rather an artillery shell, artillery gives more of a whine while mortars is always more of a thump. We heard it impact, and dirt sprayed in all directions. The NCO's started roaring at once, "Keep yer bloody heads down, stay in your damned holes!" Well, Mickey immediately started shaking and sobbing as the mortars came down harder and harder. Charlie lit a cigarette so casually you'd of thought we were back at the pub down in Moray Street in Wallchester.

I risked a gaze over the side of the foxhole and saw scattered about me others, one of them was the machine gun team and it looked to me like they were setting up and getting ready. I checked my rifle, Aldairian Standard Issue Royal Staffordland Bolt Action Rifle, had a nice 10 rounds to a clip and a decent range as well. Kickback was never much of a problem but it jammed easily if you messed with the bolt to much.

A few more mortar shells impacted all around us, someone let out a scream followed by the inevitable yelling of his comrades, "Medic! Medic! He's hit, he's bloody hit!" And then the inevitable roaring the NCO to keep your heads down you damned fools. Someone yelled out, "Contacts in the tree line just ahead of us!" The machine gun responded by firing a few bursts, and indeed, it did seem enemy soldiers were coming from the treeline in front of us. I gripped the rifle carefully then, Charlie was already firing and Mickey was shaking his head furiously trying to fix the jam he'd caused because of his shakey hands. Mortar shells kept falling all around us, one nearly hit our trench and lucky thing Mickey had such an ear for things or else we'd of all been killed by sharpnel.

The enemy opened up with a few volleys from the trees, and we responded by firing back. It progressed this way for awhile, mortars falling everywhere and everyone blindifiring at targets they couldn't see. And then we saw them alright, hordes of them kept roaring as all hell out of the tree line rifles raised in a charge. "Get your bayonets on you b******s and kept shooting!" So we fixed out 8-inch bayonets, slim little things but they were sharp as all hell and didn't break. I looked down my sight and saw a target, funny looking man. He had a beard, brownish, his eyes were wide with fear and anger. He was wearing the standard grey of all Regency soldiers and had his dark green helmet affixed lopsided on his head. I could of laughed if I wasn't so scared, I pulled the trigger and watched the man jolt backwards from the shot, clean hit. The bullet ripped through his stomach and he fell over bleeding and crying. I hit him again in the head and that shut him up.

The mortar shells stopped falling as the enemy came on us in a fury, our machine gun was still roaring cutting down targets with such ease. I let out a few more shots and then reloaded, reaching inside my clip belt I pulled the bolt back again. They were closing, the outlying foxholes were seeing some fierce hand-to-hand combat. I watched a Regency soldier ram his bayonet into the face of an Aldairian man, the blade ripped through the back of his head, chunks of brain and blood spurted out, almost like a fountain. I took my aim and fired, hitting the Regency lad in the arm, he clutched it and shouted something. I fired again, hitting him in the right lung, which probably collapsed due to the fact he knelt over and vomited blood, then dropped into the earth.

Charlie said he'd hit about nine or ten, I'd got about six, and Mickey said he'd hit one. However, no matter how many our lot hit, they just kept pouring in faster than we could kill them. The machine gun kept spitting out its burps of fire, but they were becoming less rapid to conserve ammo. The Regency broke through our outer line and started charging at us, literally straight at us. I felt a ping of fear, and I saw Mickey nearly faint, poor lad. Charlie however was laughing, and lit another cigarette and started firing at them. I shrugged, and followed suit, letting a few of the Regency b******s know we weren't dying so easily. I got one square in the ankle, he fell over, clutching it, tendons sticking out in all directions. One of his mates must of saw him for another one came running over and tried to pick him up, I picked him off in the neck and watched an artery literally explode outward pouring blood all over the place.

They were starting to return fire, and the closer they got the sweatier my palms did. I saw Charlie from the corner of my eye fall backwards swearing and clutching his shoulder. "B*****d got me, what a lucky shot." He kept saying, swearing as he gasped for breath. Mickey shakily opened up a little aid kit and poured some white powder on the wound to dissolve any bacteria, and then wrapped a field bandage around it,

"It'll hold." I merely said, firing again into the ever closing line of grey. The air by my head whizzed as a bullet nearly took me in the brain. I bit my lip and knelt down to reload, Charlie was firing but not as steadily anymore and Mickey was staring at the heavens his mouth moving but no words coming out. They came on quick, I'll give to them Regency lads they've got some fast legs in the army. I roared, shoving my bayonet into the abdomen of the first soldier who came over, I pulled the rifle over me and his body went up and over much like as if he were jumping. I kicked him off and fired point blank at another soldier, who took the bullet in the groin and fell sobbing. Charlie was fighting furiously despite his wound, I couldn't see Mickey there were to many soldiers coming in all around us. A felt a sharp pain in my leg and I realised I had been shot, my eyes opened up I'd never been hit before. I heard Charlie roar, and a topple of men went flying in all directions. He looked bad, cuts and deep gashes were all over him, and blood dripped from his mouth. I elbowed a grey clad soldier in the nose, breaking it and blood spurted all over my uniform. I proceeded to knee him in the groin, but felt another sharp pain in my lower back by my left leg.

"Oh god." I felt myself involuntarily say, as I was kicked onto the dirt after being stabbed by a bayonet. On the ground, I saw Mickey's body, all pale and bloody. My vision blurred and I heard Charlie give one last roared which was silenced from the crack of a rifle. This was it, I thought, this is how I'm going to die. Face first in the mud and not an ounce of alchohol to be seen, bloody hell I kept saying and I didn't really know why.

I laid there for awhile, the sound of battle raging all over and strangely I wasn't dead. I tried to move but the pain in my back was to much so I fell over again. I wiggled around, all around me dead Regency soldiers lay, a few slowly dying and screaming. Thats when I felt a tug on my arm and a voice calling out,

"Och, he's hit pretty bad laddies, hurry it up get him out of here. Oi, you," A face appeared as I was lifted off the ground, "We're getting you the hell out of here." I can't really remember what that man looked like, and even if I did I'm sure I wouldn't of recognised him. I passed out moments later, the pain was unbearable.

I woke up in the most serene place I'd ever seen in all my fighting career. It was a warm room, a nice fluffly pillow beneath my head, I was wrapped in white sheets and I didn't feel so unclean. I tried to sit up but the pain was just so horrible, I gave up and sat back, looking around me. It was a hospital, that much was clear. Men in similar looking beds were all around me, asleep, a few were breathing softly, some smoking. "I'm guessing you'd like a smoke?" A voice called out to my left side, I whirrled around. A young looking nurse with deep black hair which she had put into a messy bun with bits of stray hairs poking out this way and that. She looked extremely tired and had probably been kept rather busy lately.

"Y-yes please," I croaked out, "Um, where in the hell am I? Whats the date?"

She looked over at me another moment, reaching into a little field pouch and producing a pack of cigarettes and match box which she handed to me, "How in the hell am I supposed to know, keeping track of you? I've got two floors of sick and dying men and you think you're the bloody star of this hospital?" She bit her lip and turned about in anger, walking over to a little table and began filling me a small cup of tea.

"I-I didn't mean to-" I tried to say but she was still a bit fiery,

"Drink up." She said, handing me the little tray of tea. I took a long sip and she stood by the window looking sadly out, she let out a terribly disguised sigh. I felt like I should ask what was wrong, but I was tired and my mouth didn't feel like moving all that much. I studied her another moment, her outfit was a mess, dirty and spots of blood covered most of it. She was awfully young, probably about 14 or 15, just another damned conscript in this unending war.

"Your company got hit pretty bad, I read over the reports," She finally said turning around and facing me again, "Your, erm, your mates didn't quite make it. I-I'm sorry." Her eyes had a distant gaze but I could tell she was sorry. Like anyone else who'd seen a lot of fighting, you've seen a lot of death as well. She kept biting her lip over and over again, until she finally gave me a little nod, "Well if you need anything, I'll be down the hallway." And with that she trudged away slowly, limping slightly.

I can't really remember much of my time in the hospital other than that it was boring. The girl never mentioned her name but I soon learned it was Francesca, she, like everyone else in the army had been conscripted from her home and sent into the Medical Corps of the Royal Army. She had a brother off fighting somewhere, and she'd lost a few friends when her town got shelled early on in the war. She had such a distant gaze and a very fiery temper, but for the most part she was rather quiet and helpful.

I got released a month later, not really to sure on what the hell I was doing. They put me in the 56th Royal Aldairian Regiment of Foot, and it was the more awkward of my times in the army.

I sat nervously one night, we were camping out in a thickly wooded area, the sound of warfare coming from our right side. Our job was to flank a key enemy position and ultimately destroy it before a push came somewhere nearby in the line. I was sitting against a tree, puffing on a cigarette, my rifle was laying across my lap. It was so dark, I swear you couldn't see the man next to you sometimes. Me and a little lad named Petierson were assigned to stick together and act as a forward watch in case of any enemy patrols. Of course we weren't seeing anything, nobody could see anything. Petierson was young and new to the war, he wasn't so jumpy but he wasn't exactly calm either. Apparently he grew up in the same County as I did but a different town. I missed the 34th.

We heard a rustle a little ways ahead of us, and we both lifted our rifles as one, scoping out the area ahead. The first rifle shot nearly took me in the chest, the second hit Petierson in the thigh and he dropped crying like a small child. I crawled back behind the tree and returned fire, though it was useless the tree was being torn apart by bullets. A couple more of the forward patrols came up to assist, and before long the entire regiment was firing into the area ahead of us. Disaster always seems to follow me of course, we hear this low rumbling and instantly the veterans groan, "Tank! A bloody tank is coming!"

 

Regency Light Armour Infantry Tanks, or LATS, are some of the most annoying bits of metal ever scrapped together. They're generally weak, but they pack the damned things with so much firepower they always manage to take a lot of men down with them. The first shot exploded somewhere behind me and a few men screamed, then the forest simply lit up as enemy machine gun fire came burping at us. Petierson was passed out, probably due to shock, and I crawled forward under the hail of bullets to drag him. A man next to me started gurgling horribly, and I spared a glimpse at him. He was clutching his throat as blood oozed in between the little slots in his hand, he fell back twitching a few times before going limp.

I had managed to grab Petierson and was now tugging him back when he woke up, poor b*****d never had a chance. He stood up screaming and was instantly cut to pieces, blood and all sorts of internal juices spewed in all directions as he was blasted apart. The LATS was bounding forward now, pushing us backwards and threatening to compromise the whole mission. A rocket soared off in its direction but missed by a few feet. I had gone through at least three clips and I wasn't sure I had killed anything, shrugging, I kept shooting more anyways.

"Fall back chaps, fall back!" I heard someone yell, and I stood up to follow the voice. The bullet clipped me in the exact spot the bayonet had a month before and I roared in agony as the wound re-opened. Falling face first into the grass, I dropped my rifle and tried to climb onwards but found I couldn't. The pain was worse than last time, hot tears filled my eyes. The LATS was coming closer, and I could make out shadows darting to and fro, some falling in the throes of death. I bit my lip, like that nurse had, and pushed myself onwards. I drew blood, but it didn't hurt, the pain in my back was just so bad.

 

I managed to gain a couple of feet but it was worthless, I lay still awaiting death with open arms if it'd save me from this blasted pain. I could distinctly hear voices now, belonging to that of Regency soldiers. And then the forest melted.

Huge explosions smashed all around me, I jumped in fright. Artillery, they were shelling the forests. I couldn't believe it, I looked back at the Regency and saw them staring up in horror. I remember distinctly a group of the greymen huddled together, and then hearing the whirring noise. They looked up, and one of them whimpered the rest just shook their heads and they disappeared in a fiery inferno. The LATS was blown to pieces early on, and I covered my head as bits earth toppled all over the place.

How long I lay on the ground listening to the thunder of artillery I didn't know, I passed out I know that, but when I wokeup I found the shelling to still be going on, this time a bit farther away. It stopped eventually, it always stops and always with the same effect. A constant ringing in your ears but everything else is dead quiet except for that of the groaning and sobbing of the wounded. The pounding of footsteps came from ahead of me, I looked up and saw a scared group of Aldairian riflemen coming towards me, one of them had a stretcher.

"Easy lad, easy, you'll be okay." The man had a thick moustache and his uniform was covered in mud. He looked over at some Regency soldiers who were groaning and pulled out his Sub-Automatic Machine Rifle, and unloaded a clip into them.

I awoke again and found myself right back in the same bed in the same hospital as I had earlier, except this time there was another nurse. She had dirty blonde hair and a mean look about her, she was friendly enough but she didn't have the sort of personality like Francesca had. When I asked her what happened to the previous nurse she shook her head, "Line duty."

So here I am now, hunched over with a back that'll never get healed waiting for the trucks to carry me away back home. I did my bit, the nurse says I'll never be able to walk properly again, my nerves or something. When I move I have an odd limp, my left leg juts out irregularly. I can still move but it looks and feels awful. I'm not sure I have any regrets, I lost a lot but so does everyone in war, I'm laughing as I jot this down. Here I am, crying over a little wound when that girl Francesca is probably being blown to pieces but that god-awful artillery sound. It's funny, the nurse said I seem to jump when I hear loud noises, Mickey did the same thing.

Author's Note

This was written in a two hour time block, cut me some bloody slack.

Reviews

[Mandi]

you are a very good writer!

[Ben]

This is very good! I really liked it! Keep it up dude!

[deeps]

Wow! I think It's Bloody awesome!
Eveyrthing holds toegther well
Wonderful write here.