A shot goes off overhead, sending a vaguely familiar soldier tumbling down the trench. Within seconds, his brain ceases to operate. I turn to him, in an attempt to offer him comfort in his last few moments on this planet, but he’s already gone. His glazed eyes stare at me blankly, a haunting image.
Someone screams something, forcing me back into reality. I pop my rifle back up over the edge and fire, forcing a man back into his trench. Someone screams again. They’re always screaming here, but I’ve learned to listen only to the important ones. They’re about to fire the artillery.
Piles of earth fly up into the air as soldiers try to charge into our trench. The sight makes my stomach churn, despite seeing it so often before. Then, it all ends. No-man’s land is empty, and above all the cries of pain, there is an odd silence.
But it cannot last for long. The whistle blows, and half the men standing by me are ordered to move. They’re going over the top. They will run, charge at the enemy trench, and they will fall. Artillery shots will wipe out most of them, the machine gun fire getting the few survivors. Then, there will be silence again. Then, another whistle, and the enemy will charge at us another time.
They told me this war would be glorious.
If only it were that simple.
World War One. The Great War. Eight and a half million soldiers, dead. Among them, my own grandfather, leaving behind a wife and two children. But as I closed his diary, I couldn’t help but think that that was better than war today. It was more honourable. More patriotic.
Because now, nobody seemed to realise that a war is being fought in their very cities. I sighed, lost in thought, and turned to my partner. Agent Lawrence had been in this game far longer than I, and every shot he fired was just a daily routine to him.
He’d accepted the fact that times have changed.
But it sickened me. One hundred years ago, our soldiers fought, often knowing that within minutes, they would be dead. Without a doubt. They fought for this country. They fought for freedom. But most of all, they knew who their enemies were – The Germans. The Austrians.
Today, were given no such privilege. It sickened me to know that in this global struggle to survive, anyone could be plotting. In an attempt to escape my depressed thoughts, I reopened my grandfather’s diary, reading silently to pass the time.
Even in these conditions, some soldiers think it their duty to keep the others happy.
As I walk solemnly through the trenches, I hear laughter, amidst the screaming. It’s comforting in such circumstances. My closest friend, Theodore approaches me as I pass by.
“Dan, you hear about Jonny?” he asks solemnly. My heart begins to pound, my forehead sweating. I did not hear about Jonny. “Went over the top earlier today.”
He needn’t say more. Another one of my few friends. Gone.
Glorious.
“Alright, let’s go,” Lawrence said quietly. We stepped out of the car quietly, checking our weapons were ready to be used at any moment. A tip-off earlier today suggested that plans for some sort of terrorist attack were being prepared. Again, I found myself thinking about the hidden enemies of America.
“This is idiotic. We don’t know who we’re fighting,” I complained to Lawrence. “One tip-off is not enough to do something like this.”
“Look, Daniel, I don’t have any plans to fight anyone, alright? We’re doing a small investigation, nothing more. If things turn ugly, we get out of there,” he assured me, leading me into the abandoned looking apartment block. “Trust me. I made the call for us to go in on our own. I wouldn’t have made it if I thought we’d have any trouble.”
I sighed, praying that Lawrence was right. We opened the oddly small door and stepped into the hallway, taking in the area. A thick, dusty smell met my nostrils, accompanying the dull colours of the room. To the left of the room, an old staircase went up to the next floor of apartments. To the right, two apartment doors. At the end of the hallway, a door led to the basement.
Lawrence gestured for me to knock on the door. I did so, a bead of sweat dropping from my head. For a moment, we both stood there, waiting silently. Finally, I could hear footsteps, and the doorknob turned.
Screams. Perhaps a gunshot too. I heard some soldiers talking about it. They call it shellshock – when you hear the battles in your head. I’m not sure if the shot was in my dreams, or if it was what woke me up. Either way, I don’t waste time finding out. The stars are bright tonight, so I can navigate the trench easily to the source of the yells. By the time I arrive, there are several other soldiers yelling.
The first thing I notice is the man on the ground, his left hand bloodied. He’s screaming for mercy, while another soldier drags him by the hair, yelling.
It is clear what has happened here.
A wound is grounds for being sent home.
But desertion is grounds for execution.
The man was tall, with a small tattoo on the back of his hairless head. His pale skin was smooth, ignoring a bruise on his cheek. He didn’t seem concerned at our appearance, which either meant he had nothing to hide, or he knew how to hide it. After a quick conversation between he, his roommate and Lawrence, the man agreed to let us search.
Lawrence directed me to half the rooms while he searched the others, and after a vain attempt to find evidence of a planned attacked, we left the apartment.
It was only as we were leaving that I remembered the basement.
“If I were hiding a weapon, I wouldn’t hide it in my home,” I mentioned, nodding my head to the door.
Lawrence sighed. “Alright then. Let’s check it out,” he said, defeated. It was as though he wanted nothing more than to leave. Like he didn’t even care. We reached the basement door, and Lawrence sighed again.
As we walked through the dim lit basement, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Heating and cooling facilities, energy sources and water pipes went along the walls and roof of the otherwise seemingly empty room.
It was only when we reached the end of the basement, that I noticed it. Lawrence’s old eyes couldn’t make much out in the darkness, and he had begun to turn back by the time I noticed the equipment in the corner of the room, behind a water pipe. Among the equipment was a glass pipe which lead through a small hole in the basement wall. Inside was a clear liquid, similar to water. It was not water.
I leaned in closer, reading the small print on the pipe. It was a chemical formula. Going back to my chemistry years, I could hardly believe what I was reading.
“Lawrence, get over here! We’ve got a problem.”
Lawrence made his way over quickly, his gun raised. “What is it, Dan?”
“This formula, it’s the chemical formula for Sarin. It’s a toxic chemical, hundreds of times more toxic than cyanide.”
“Christ… Where does it lead to?”
“I’m gonna guess to the same apartment we were investigating,” I said. Despite the desperation of the situation, I was pleased with having been right about something. “Call for backup. Let’s find out what’s going on here.”
I made my way past Lawrence and back to the apartment in investigation. Another knock, and the same bald man arrived at the door.
“Aren’t we done here?”
“I need to search your apartment again,” I said calmly, not revealing my knowledge.
“Look, I let you in once when I didn’t need to, and I’m not doing it again. I have things to do. Come back when you have a reason.”
“Sir, I need to check the place out.”
“Not with a bloody warrant. Piss off,” he said, reaching to slam the door.
Lawrence shoved his foot in the way, flinching slightly at the pain. “Sir, can we please come in?”
He stared at the bald man who stared back carefully. “Quickly.”
I pushed past the man, heading towards the rooms closest to the basement, scanning the roof for any pipes that could hold the same chemical.
“Alright Dan, same rooms as before,” Lawrence began. “I’ll check these, you check the others.”
Had I listened to him, I mightn’t be in the situation that I am in now. But I didn’t listen. I never did. I continued on my way to the rooms on the basement side, and opened the door.
Inside, pipes went every which way. Scientific equipment was scattered across tables, in between illegal weapons. I turned in shock. Lawrence had checked this room. Why had he not mentioned th-
And then I fell, a bullet in my stomach. My vision blurring, I fell to the floor, my head turning to the roof. Above me, stood Lawrence.
It’s the shrapnel that does the most damage. Sure, machine guns are bad, but it’s the shrapnel that knocks you to your feet. It’s the shrapnel that renders your helmet useless. Theodore is standing by me, shooting over the top of the trench when a piece of shrapnel flies by his face, smacking into the soldier behind him. The soldier screams and struggles for a moment, then goes perfectly still. A surprisingly quick death for shrapnel.
Other soldiers are not so lucky.
Another artillery shot lands nearby, sending more shrapnel flying our way.
To the east of our trench sits a German trench. Unbelievably close, it’s an important trench to capture. If we don’t attack first, they will. Today, we make the first move.
I’ve been ordered to go with the others over the top. After the artillery fire stops, we will make our attack. The trench is close, but there will still be deaths. After all, what is a victory without deaths?
The German attack has stopped. It’s our turn now.
The whistle blows.
I climb up steadily, rifle in my right hand. Theodore stands by my left. The soldier to my right attempts to stand, but is cut down instantly by a barrage of fire. Then, like that, we’re off. We run as fast as we can towards the trench, taking part in the most repetitive plans of this Great War.
A German soldier who had been hiding in a hole left by the artillery shots leaps up at me, a stone in his hand. Such natural weapons became are in the panic of trench warfare. The soldier smacks me across the face, knocking me to the ground, but I respond quickly with my bayonet.
I now realise that in my panicked counter attack, I had pushed the bayonet through his ribcage. As I struggle to pull the bayonet out, which is now caught on his ribcage, I panic more. I turn to find that I am no longer next to my comrades. They are attacking the German trench, and I am stuck in no-man’s land, a German soldier dying on top of me. I release my weapon and pull myself up as an artillery shot lands metres away. I begin running and hear a familiar sound as I do so. Another shot has been let off. They’re firing barrage. I run faster than I have ever before. A shot lands near me, knocking me off balance. I struggle to get up and run again, but it’s too late. A final shot lands closer than ever to me.
My eyes shut instinctively, a blessing and a curse. A blessing, as I do not see what happens next, but a cure, as I open them more confused than ever. My ears are numb, and a familiar sound overcomes my head – the sound of nothingness. Before the war, I did not know of such a sound, but now, this silence is like an old friend.
Next, I feel Theodore’s hands wrap around my shoulders. I shut my eyes.
I’m bleeding out. After Lawrence shot me, I was confused, most of all. Fury and sadness crossed my mind, but confusion was the dominant feeling. How could Lawrence betray me? More so, why?
I looked up at him, horrified at his deception.
“I’m sorry, Daniel. If you’d seen the things I’ve seen, you’d understand,” Lawrence said. The bastard was trying to justify his actions, but not to me – to himself.
“Your job is to protect the people of America,” I reminded him furiously. “Not to release toxic chemicals on them. Nothing you have seen can justify that.”
“Everything can justify that. I save people every day without them knowing it,” Lawrence yelled. “This country doesn’t appreciate you or I.”
“They can’t know, Lawrence. They can’t know, because they could be the enemy.”
“Exactly. War is not what it used to be. It’s no longer a game played by politicians with miniature soldiers on a map. War is a game of shadows now. How can you live knowing that of the hundreds of lives you save one day, at least one of those lives is plotting to kill a hundred more?”
“But how does killing innocents make you any better?”
“Because this country doesn’t know what we do. They take life for granted. Your grandfather was a war hero. You, of all people, should know what I mean. Your grandfather stood by his friends as they were shot to pieces. He lived for years in trenches, running through mud and barbed wire every day while artillery shots went off behind him. He watched as his own soldiers shot each other down for trying to run from the madness. He lived through war. This generation knows no such thing. They live a digital life. They live a life unaffected by the conflicts of the planet. America lives in peace while innocent people in Afghanistan live each day like their last.”
“So you’ll kill them for it? You’ll let women and children die because you disagree with their lifestyles?”
“I will show America what it feels like to suffer. I’m tired of saving the world from being plunged into a war when that is exactly what it needs. America will suffer today, and if we’re lucky, they will strike back tomorrow. September eleventh, 2001 was the spark that started the War on Terror, but this will change that. This will change it to World War III. The twenty-first century’s generations will finally experience what a global conflict that affects them is like. I’m doing this for soldiers, Daniel. I’m doing this for people like your grandfather.”
“And yet you shot me, because you knew I wouldn’t go along with it. You knew this was wrong,” I argued.”
“How could you agree? You’re not a veteran like I am. It’s too late for judgements, Daniel. The sarin gas will be released throughout the city, with an expected death toll in the thousands.”
With that, Lawrence turned. The bald man approached him and smiled. “Lawrence, you’ve experienced war once. You don’t need to again.” He raised his weapon and fired.
I shut my eyes as Lawrence fell, despite his betrayal of me. When I opened them, his shocked, betrayed eyes stared back at me. Frozen.
The rest of the time passed quickly, and I slept for most of it. Hours or minutes, I’m not sure, but the sarin gas hadn’t yet been released by the time I heard the voices. They started calmly, but quickly rose, to the point of yelling.
I heard a gunshot and waited as a struggle seemed to occur in the hallway of the building. I rolled over, struggling to look outside of the room, but failed. I did, however, notice a timer.
I’m not sure whether it was the fact that I had minutes to live, or the fact that the time just added to the desperation of the situation, but seeing the timer made me realise just what was going on. Only then did I realise that the end of life as everyone in this city knew it was coming.
My thoughts fell short as the bald man entered the room again, this time firing madly outside. I watched him curiously as he shot, oblivious to my observations. He was an expert. I doubted he was a war veteran, but he had definitely been in fights before.
Moments later, he fell, and four armed cops entered the room. They had clearly come to check on Lawrence and I after we didn’t report back.
And now I lie here, as they struggle to stop the sarin gas from being released. The timer is slowly dropping. Less than two minutes now.
One of them is trying to perform first aid on me while an emergency vehicle is driving to pick me up.
I lie here, still now, as he turns his attention to the weapon like the others. He has done all he can to relieve me of pain. If the emergency vehicle arrives on time and the sarin gas is stopped, perhaps I will live, but I do not doubt that today will be my last.
I remember what Lawrence said about my grandfather – he was a war hero. I had never heard stories of his heroism before, and in my situation, I have little better to do.
I watch the timer. Thirty seconds. I’m a quick reader.
Victory. We took the trench. One more push, and we’ll have taken about fifty square kilometres of land. It’ll be difficult, but it might just work. Our morale is slowly increasing with our victories, and I have high hopes for the next battle.
My individual morale, however, is low. The familiar sound of nothingness has grown much more familiar. The artillery permanently took away my hearing on both ears. Never again, will I hear. The doctor here promises not to say a word. I have been told that with an injury such as that, I will be sent back home. While I would love the peace, there is nothing that will stop me taking part in this final push.
Now, I sit here, writing, as always before going over the top. I reflect on my days. The risks of this battle are bigger than ever before, but the rewards are higher. If we can take this trench, we’ll have made a decisive victory against Germany. It will be a morale booster for the world.
But I know that with high risks, death is near. I nearly died last time.
So, this may be my farewell.
To Mary, my heart will always be yours. I’ve told you everything I can every time I send you a letter. There is little more to say.
To Lisa, you’re only a couple of years old now, but one day you will grow, and you will hear of what I did. Please, forgive me for making such sacrifices during the years that you need me most. I did it for my country.
To James, keep this diary close. If you’re lucky, the war will never again fall into such turmoil as it has now. But the world’s a cruel place. The world is full of greedy people. People who are too smart for their own good, but too stupid to know it.
Should such a conflict as this rise again, remember my words – the lies are nothing more than that. This war is not glorious. The war will not be a quick victory. Fighting by your mates will not be a fun activity which you can reminisce about next Christmas.
I will not depress you with any more details.
Just know that this war is not glorious. No war will ever be glorious.
With that, I prepare to go over the top. The whistle blows, and I climb up.
A flash of déjà vu hits me as the gunfire starts again.
I run fast, leaping over the barbed wire, hitting my bayonet into several stomachs and pulling out quickly, careful not to make the same mistake twice. I check that Theodore is nearby constantly, not daring to let him get too far away.
This time, it’s calm. With no hearing, I do not notice the artillery shots landing next to me.
Then, it’s done. We reach the trench, and take it quickly.
We did it. We took the German trench.
Victory.
But then I remember – no victory is without deaths.
I turn to check for Theodore, but he is nowhere to be seen. Finally, my scanning eyes find him, caught on barbed wire, bleeding from his arm. He had been shot.
Panicking inside, I throw my rifle down, and climb back out of the trench. I grab Theodore, pulling him to safety.
It’s then that I notice that further east; a few stray German soldiers are coming towards us. This is my chance. I can’t stand this war anymore. I need to get out. Theodore has been shot, so he will be sent home soon. No longer needing to worry about his safety, I have no role here.
I will run towards the soldiers, holding them off as long as I can. If I die, I die. If not, I can escape. Nobody will know. Call me a coward, but I have no choice. I will risk my life to get out of this place if I must.
I look to Theodore, his half open eyes staring back. “Look after my family,” I say, not hearing my own words.
With that, I climb over the trench.
I’m going over the top.
