It Is Easier To Make Your Fellow Soldier Sacrifice His life Than To Give Your Own

He stared down at his hands. They were shaking uncontrollably, violently. His heart beat rapidly almost as if it would burst out of his chest. That's another fear to add to the list; a bit more unlikely one though, he thought. The air was cold and dry, not helping his morale in the slightest. And to add to that: his leg hurt, he had a headache, he was freezing, his coat was ratty and didn't keep him warm. But at least he was free of bullet holes. Yes, the booming explosions hurt his ears; the shrapnel bouncing off in every direction (fortunately missing him), the bullets whizzing by, and the shells hurtling overhead may have come a little too close at times, but he remained uninjured. That still doesn't make it any less possible or terrifying. 

            The foxhole he had hastily dug earlier in the day to hopefully avoid the heavy German fire managed to keep him safe, but not warm. Lying beside him was his M1 Garand. Most soldiers would call this their only true and most trusted friend in the world, but it only makes me feel queasy. The thing only made him worry more. What if my rifle breaks and I get shot? What if miss and I get shot? What if I lose it and I get shot? What if get shot before I can even do anything? Thoughts like these continued to plague him as the bullets whizzed by his head. 

            His commanding officer began shouting something that seemed important, but he was too lost thinking about his own extensive precautions to hear anything. Suddenly, another soldier was directly in front of him, violently pulling him to his feet and snapping him out of his trance. 

            The man had to shout at him over the constant reports. "Get off your a*s and on your feet soldier! Didn't you hear the Lieutenant! We're advancing on the German machine gun position! Grab your gun and get moving!"

            It took him a few seconds for him to recover from his shock, grab his gun, and reluctantly move his feet. He began at a slight jog, constantly dodging the storm of bullets as he joined his compatriots in the charge on the bunker. He tried to remain in the middle of the rather large group to ensure he would not be left behind at the back or be undoubtedly shot at the front. 

            Soldiers fell all around him, some killed immediately, some wounded and bleeding out, some incapacitated, and others who pressed on despite their wounds. One man fell right next to him and called out for help. He shouted back "That's the medic's job!" as he pressed forward, fearing he would get shot trying to help the man. He as well felt slightly guilty, because he had seen their battalion's last medic on the ground with a head wound. He did his best to ignore it and kept on.

            Men were ordering each other to keep moving, telling each other to leave their fallen comrades and get to the objective, crying over the pain and sorrow of this war, and growing more and more weary with each step. Not a single man wished he was here, and not a single man wished he was doing any less than serving his country; except for him.

            He was as terrified as ever sprinting across that field. Every moment was just bad as the previous one, with no sign that his next ones would improve.

            In front of him stood the bunker that spewed out the German machine gun fire, behind him lay countless bodies, and beside him were his comrades that he knew had no reason to put as much faith into him as he did into them. He was a coward, and a damn good one too. In the case of a coward, there is a ploy one must always enact in order to veer those around you off the scent of your cowardice. Appear moderately brave, seem as if you are just as committed to the fight as your fellow soldiers, act is if you would give your life for it, but never really let any of that hap- "WAAUUGH! OOF!"

            He had fallen into a ditch, covering himself in the mud brought about by the courtesy of last night's rain. Well, this is just fantastic. Now I'm cold and muddy. How the he- He stopped and looked up, and noticed that he had fallen into the ditch dug around the German bunker. He looked behind him and saw that a lot of the troops left standing were hiding behind the barbed-wire defenses set up by the Germans. Well I'll be damned. How the hell did I get through that? Scanning the fence line, he found a breach with a 3-inch mortar crater below it. Upon further observation he spied all the bullet-ridden corpses that lay behind that breach. Another soldier ran up to that breach, but like the others, was pumped full of lead. He stepped back, shocked, but not aghast at the gruesome scene. He couldn't believe he had gotten through that storm unscathed. 

            They must have been distracted or something like that. He paused and took another look at the bunker. Hmm, maybe, but then again, I still risk getting hurt. To his right he heard an agonized cry and he turned his head to see what it was. Is that...maybe it is. Grinning, he quickened his pace, anxious to get to the source of that sound to confirm his suspicions. Once he got close enough, a wave of relief swept over him as he realized he could avoid death and injury altogether, again.

          The soldier on the ground was their battalion's explosive specialist. His cries were brought forth by the serious injury he had in his right thigh: half of it was gone and the rest was a bloody mess. He cringed at this man's cries of pain and at the sight of his wound, yet that did not dissuade him from his mission. He stepped over to the specialist and beside him he spied a finished time bomb. He must have intended to put in on the bunker...Oh ho ho! I know exactly what to do now!

            Bending down he picked up the bomb and placed it in his pack. Next he grabbed hold of the wounded soldier who had passed out from his pain. He dragged the man by his arms up a pathway to the bunker that was dug out by the German troops. Stopping, he checked to see if any of his fellow soldiers were looking at him. They were still distracted with avoiding the storm of bullets. He looked back up at the bunker to see where the Germans had their weapons trained. They were still focusing on providing that storm for his fellow soldiers. Good, good. I don't need anyone seeing this. 

            After he drug the man up the hill, he halted and checked to see if anyone had spied him now. Ok, I'm still unseen. Looking back at the bunker, he estimated the distance from his position to the emplacement to be about fifty feet. I can make this work. Grasping the injured man again he dragged him as quietly and as subtly as he could to about twenty-five feet away from the bunker. He stooped down beside the still unconscious soldier and pulled out the bomb from his pack and then proceeded to set the time for about a minute and thirty seconds. I am sure glad I took that course on explosives...and at least took this away from it. 

            He took out his knife and cut off a piece of the man's shirt, picked up the bomb and then proceeded to tie it to his injured leg. Ok, now I gotta wake him up. He glanced up quickly to ensure his actions were going unseen, and feeling content that they were, went back to his work. A few good slaps oughta' do it. He vigorously brought his hand back and forth across the man’s face until he heard him groan. Alright, that's done it. Time to act fast. He started the timer on the bomb and sprinted back to the covered position at the top of the hill. Situating himself, he watched to see the events he hoped would unfold according to his fairly flimsy plan.

 

.           .           .

 

            The soldier slowly opened his eyes and widened them to their full extent along with letting out a cry of agony upon receiving the onrush of the unbearable pain coming from his leg. But he forgot that pain as quickly as it came when he heard the terror instilling ticking sounds he knew all too well. Panic and adrenaline filled him as he quickly scanned the area looking for a means of escape and cover. 

            He spied the bunker in front of him and began to frantically crawl as fast as he could towards it. He groaned and gave an inhuman cry, but he didn't care; he only wanted to get to safety. The pain from his leg made him nearly pass out, but he forged on as best he could. His panic didn't go away, but instead increased, since the sound of the ticking would not die down no matter how far he crawled. His leg felt oddly heavy, but he didn't have the time to figure out why. Got to keep moving. Got to get to the bunker. Got to escape the bomb. Crawling faster and faster, the pain growing ever more agonizing, the bunker almost in his reach and then, he was inside. But the ticking didn't stop, it wouldn't go away, and it was then he realized what was going on. "No...no, no, no, no, no."

            He screamed, "HELP!" The German soldiers heard the cry and only had enough time to turn around and see a wounded man with a bomb tied around his leg reaching out to them. BOOM! The bomb exploded and took with it the bunker, the German machine gunners, and the wounded soldier.

 

.           .           .

 

            He jumped a little at the sound, but he smiled afterward. Well I'll be damned. It worked! He laughed out loud, stood up and walked back to his fellow soldiers who were wondering what had just happened.

Reviews

[KittyKatgirl]

Wow this is a great way to tell of what is going through a soldier's mind when he's in battle. And a brilliant idea of tying the bomb to the specialist's leg and bombing the bunker. This is really good and I enjoyed reading this :)

[Aventicus]

Thank you very much!