"Dogs of War"

6/22/18
“Dogs of War”
Erle

“Masks, now! It’s a gas attack”! I dove into the trench and grabbed my mask. It had fallen off in the skirmish just seconds ago, and I could already feel the tension in my bones as I swiftly pulled on the wet mask. Mud was caked on the sides and there were tiny cracks and freys in the glass and patchwork, but it would protect my lungs. My rifle had been thrown and I desperately looked around until I spotted it in the side of the hill, being held up in the body of a dead german soldier. Not time to grieve, I wrenched it from his still warm body and dove next to him for cover. The gas was by now upon us and visibility was poor. I could just make out the opposing trench, and I picked myself up and ran closer still. I found temporary refuge in a hole, left behind by an artillery shell. Another soldier must’ve had the same idea, for he was lined up, rifle and all right on the edge, which I thought was rather gutsy, but I decided to try the same. I slowly peaked over cover, and climbed next to my ally, only for his rifle to slip from his hands and onto my helmet. I was transfixed by his eyes, and how absolutely dead and lifeless they were. The german had been face down, and war was far easier to swallow when it was faceless. And for me, until now it had been. Here I was a fresh new guy, straight from the train to the frontlines, being my third day, nothing had even shaken me than the look of his eyes. Noise from around, gunfire, shells, and shouts from the men, drowned out, and I lost myself in those eyes, not being able to look away. Then from the left corner of my eye, from the opposing side, I say the silhouette of a helmet slide over the edge of the hole I was sheltered in, bayonet upraised for my head. A quick duck to the right, and an elbow to the back, the german was taken back. He turned quicker than I thought possible, dropping his rifle in mid spin, with pocket knife in hand. I grabbed his hand and held his knife inches from my neck. I remember his eyes too. Full of determination, hate, and fright. He had been just as afraid as I had been. And in that moment when we locked eyes, a second of hesitation passed through his mind, and it was that lapse of judgement from my oppressor in which I turned the knife around, and sent it back from whence it came. My hand suddenly went warm against the ever limping form against it, and as the life fled from the soldiers body before me, it was all I could do to keep it together. I retracted the blade from the stomach of my oppressor and watched my hand shake. I dropped the knife, unable to grasp it in my pulsing hand any longer. My surroundings suddenly began to creep back in, noise began to ring in my deadened ears once again and the sun now showing through the remnants of the gas attack. My rifle, the M1 Garand lay between my feet on the ground and I hastily grabbed it. I placed my helmet back on my head, as it had fallen off in the fight moments before. With my rifle now securely in my hands, I leapt from the shell hole, and behind a hedgehog tank stopper. These didn’t offer much cover, and I knew I couldn’t stay put for long. I scanned the battlefield quickly, and watched as more soldiers leaped over the barbed wire and minefields of No Man’s Land. Steadily as they came closer, I peered down the sight of my gun and began to pick them off, one by one. I had wounded three and killed two. I noted that if I ever made it back to the trench, I would add the two kills in the form of notches on my rifle. It would make four successful confirmed kills. I took aim at another German, but as I looked down the sights, my vision was filled with the eyes of the fallen soldier I had put down moments before in the shell hole. Then it was my fallen comrades eyes that clouded my mind, and before long my aim had lowered to the ground, and the German had wandered out of my sights. The images haunted me, as I fought to drive them from my subconscious. But by then, my cover was more than compromised, and I needed to move. And not a moment too soon did I for a shell, shattered the tank stopper and land where I had been seconds ago, leaving a massive crater in the ground. Bullets whisked all around me, and I fought to keep my head. Feeling confident that the worst of the gas had blown over, I removed my mask, and took a stifled first breath. Finding it satisfactory, I slung it over my pack, and dove in a slightly smaller crater, than the one behind me, and made my way back to my trench.