Teufelslied: Italia

Chapter 11: The Catacombs

22nd September, 1965: Italian Trench, near Castelnau-le-Lez

Anto was numb. Most of his friends were dead, he'd likely die. And all because he didn't want to be a school teacher. He had to remind himself of the world that had gone down in flames during the first bombardment, as he carried Alois' rotting corpse to The Catacombs. Maybe that world hadn't been buried under the bodies of thousands of dead soldiers from two warring countries. Maybe God above was testing him.
Or he had died. And gone to Hell.
Anto sighed, if only he could be so lucky. It was more like God himself had been blown to pieces in the infernal bombardments. Cut to pieces by the machine guns. As he rounded a corner, he bumped into another soldier. "Opps! Sorry!", the man said. He sounded British. Anto looked up. The man was a fresh recruit, with short-cut brown hair, mischievous hazel eyes, and a...mailbag? He skin was also a bit darker than the average Britannian. "I wasn't aware we were allowed to have volunteers from Britannia.", Alois said. "We Scots prefer to be independent from our imperialist kin.", the Brittanian said. "Scotland?", Anto asked," You don't have much of an accent."
"Well, my father was born of an immigrant.", he said, his features starting to resemble a frown, like he was hiding unpleasant memories. "Names' Otto. Otto Valer. Schütze, 1st Infantry Division. Squadron 13, Rifleman."
Anto looked at Valer. ""I'm the Commanding Officer of Squadron 13.", he said. "And I'm sorry to say, your Fireteam leader is the man on my back." Anto trudged on ahead. "Sir..", Otto said,"What are my orders?"
"Head back to the barracks.", Anto said. "Dismissed." Anto walked up, the filth-stained wood croaking under his feet.
The Catacombs were larger than they had been when Anto caught a preview of them the day before. Two Schützpolizei guarded the door. Anto approached them, and they opened the door. The room was lit by a single gas lightbulb. The corpses were stacked halfway to the ceiling. They were mutilated. Absolutely mutilated. Some were covered in blisters from gas attacks, others had their entrails wrapped around their legs. The floor was reddened and damped.
Anto's breathing slowed. And he fell to his knees, muttering, "No. No.."
Tears were streaming down his face. "How could...people...people do...this?" One of the Schützpolizei put his hand on Anto's shoulder. "This is the true face of the enemy. They are savages. Monsters. And we must kill them all."
Anto was filled with rage. He picked up Alois' dead body. And dropped it off next to a man whose' brain had been blown to pieces by shrapnel. And he saluted. "God...be with you all!", he shouted
He walked out of the Catacombs and fell asleep.

Anto was back in time. Two years ago. He was at the recruitment stand. The recruiter was a young woman in a brown SS dress uniform. She was a member of the 1st. Madel-die-Waffen SS. Her hair was brown, rolled into a ponytail. "Hallo.", she said, smiling. "Heer, lokalen truppen, SS? Was möchten Sie teilnehmen?", she asked Anto. Anto looked up. "Valerie? Valerie Kreüter?", he recognized his old classmate, though they hadn't seen each other since their first year in middle school. "Anto Castillo?!", she said. Anto peered at his hands.
"Wake up you drunkard!", a voice shouted. "Huh?", Anto said, scrambling to his feet. "I'm sorry..I haven't had anything to drink. I just finished burying the dead....one of my close friends."
          The soldier was a Schützpolizei. "Oh...", the man said. "Here.", he reached out and handed Anto a bottle of wine. "It's Roman.", he said, as Anto peeled away the brown bag around the bottle. The bottle was black with a white and gold label that read Tusculum Castelli Romani. "Drink like Caesar himself.", the Schützpolizei soldier walked away, Anto grabbed his bayonet and popped open the bottle, and drank it.
           He hadn't had alcohol for a long time. But this was something...more. It was fresh. And so so red. Like the blood of Italy flowing into his mouth. He popped the cork back in. "I am ready to fight...", he said. In spite of the stench. The horrible stench which rose from the dead, whom numbered in the thousands. The dead and the smoke and the Earth...oh god the Earth. Anto knew what it looked like. Not like Italy, or Germany, or France. Not like what he had seen. It was worse. Indescribable, in fact.
         And then, as he took a breath. A horrible blood soaked breath. Taking in the smell of the rotten flesh, smoke, and blood. He knew. He would fight until the gruesome end of his life with all that this war deprived him of. The thousands of Italians that simply made it to far before their lives were snuffed out by a sentry's bullet. He would force through the bloody mess.
       For Italy. It may have been the alcohol. It may have been that Anto thought he had nothing left to lose but his life. But by god, he was going over those trenches into hell. "With his shield or on it." And then the sun rose.
        Anto walked towards his men's barracks. "Where's Valer?", Einitti looked back at him. "He was sent to fetch for you.", as if on que, Valer appeared around the corner, with a fairly well sized Rifle. "Oberleutnant. This is from command.", he handed Anto the rifle. "Huh? What gun is that?"
"It's a fairly new model, sir. Cacciatore-Testa Modello 61 with an attached scope." Anto withdrew it from it's packaging. "This will be nice for those bastards in that fortress. Valer, if we make it through this. Make yourself damn useful as a messenger. Send command my thanks.", Anto said, saluting Valer.
                    Anto leaned from the trench. The dirt hadn't had time to obscure his vision, so he could see the artillery crews on the fortress walls. He pulled the trigger on his Cacciatore. The sound of the bullet breaking the sound barrier, and flying through the man's skull. Like a rose of a life that once was, blood blossomed from the open wound. The angel of death pulled the man off his feet, and dropped him a few feet back. One of his comrades rushed to his side, bolting his rifle, once more, Anto fired, and the man fell to the ground. Not dead, based off where the bullet hit. But definitely in critical condition. A third artillery man dragged the man's blood-spattered torso behind the artillery piece. His tunic, once a khaki brown in color, was now soaked crimson. His mouth foamed with gore.
      Anto just barely missed being shot by MG fire as he ducked his head. Once more bolting his rifle, he fired, and the machine gun fire stopped, screaming imitating from the hollowed out mud from whence the shots originated. Anto slung his Cacciatore over his shoulder, and charged out into no-man's-land. The muddy smoke was thick. However, through it, Anto could see the flares of artillery fire as they smashed into the enemy lines, sending dirt and bodies into the air.
          Anto dove to prone, and fired his assault rifle. Another man fell to his knees, and then his face. And was alive no more.
Valer was struggling with his gun. It wasn't jammed. He struggled to fire it. Anto approached him, taking cover as artillery threw rotting bodies and dirt in the air. "What's wrong, Valer?!" Anto asked him. Valer looked at him. "This suffering...sir...I can't..."
"You can't what?!", Anto shouted from over the booming ambience of war.
"I can't take it! I'm the only one left alive in my entire family!", Valer broke down in tears. "Get a hold of yourself, Valer! A true Scotsman doesn't break down!", he said, pulling Valer to the ground by his chinstrap, as an artillery shell peppered them with dirt and mud.
"Yes you're right sir!", Valer shouted. "Alright kid, I want you to do one thing, level your rifle and fi-"
A whistle blew from across the fields.
Anto, seeing the markings of officers among the enemy ranks switched to his Cacciatore, and fired two clips at the enemy. As he and Valer fired their assault rifles, cutting down the enemy, they spread out, and fired back. "MOVE UP!", Anto shouted, moving to the wall of a former house, and firing at three R.R.A soldiers, killing them. Valer looked pale. "You ok?", Anto asked, right before his friend threw up.
The comparative safety of Castelnau-le-Lez's houses didn't stop a mortar shell from detonating right above them. Anto fell down and curled into the fetal position, screaming as a ringing chorus filled the world around him. His vision was shaky. Was the air turning...green?
"OH MY GOD, CHLORINE GAS!", Anto wheezed and coughed as he retrieved his Leibehelme from it's container. The ringing faded, and Anto's hearing was half gone. But his common sense wasn't. "VALER!", he shouted, hearing nothing but the echo of his call. Valer was coughing and sputtering. Gasping for air like a fish out of water. Anto got the man's Leibehelme from it's container and forced it on his face. Another mortar shell was arching towards the house, Anto wasn't taking chances.
             The booming of firearms and cannons was bearable with his hearing damaged. Anto looked back on the house he had taken cover in, the second mortar shell must've been incendiary, as soon as it hit, the entire structure was engulfed in hellish flames. They leaped from the building's windows, melting straight through. Sent bits and pieces of housing catapulting through the air on fire. What had once been livable, was now merely a column of smoke.
      Still, Anto kept running. And then....they broke through.