1939

Chapter 10: A Broken Promise

Dark grey clouds reflected the mood of the men lying on the ground with guns poised as of they were some delicate ornament and a piece of chivalry, which was far from what they were. They were twisted ropes that sentenced most men who fell victim to their grip to a life of suffering, or more commonly, no life at all. Mud squelched underneath soiled uniforms as men crawled through the landscape, Mikey carefully following William through the maze of twisted corpses and screaming men. The familiar drone of bomber planes could be heard in the distance. Laying close to the bodies the group of men crawling through the bloody mud kept their heads low as they readied themselves for the impact surely to rock through the earth.

After minutes of silence Dallon crawled forwards and ran through the mud, scouting ahead to check it was safe. He was always the first to sacrifice himself, always the first to run into the fire so no one else would need to burn. With head low he walked through the field and motioned for the men to come forwards. Ryan whispered for them to hang back, claiming the place felt wrong. Mikey had to agree, like he always did. Ryan was a brilliant man, albeit difficult to understand due to his poor English and heavy accent. It was strange that a bomber would fly ahead and not drop a bomb, the whole group was uneasy as they watched Dallon dart across the mud, his long legs acting like silts to lift him through the thick sludge.

Everyone deemed him as giraffe legs and Ronnie would often tie his boot laces together to comment about how he was like scaffolding being torn off a building as Dallon fell towards the earth. Ronnie was an asshole yet everyone was terrified to stop him, terrified to stand up for the kind boy who threw himself on the line every single day, all terrified to call him back because they knew full well this wasn't going to end well but he continued along the ground.

The sound of bullets shrieked through the air and sliced into the bodies on the ground, the sound masking the droll of a plane zipping through the sky as wings flashed in the dull sun. A scream echoed through the air as it was suddenly silenced by the bullets, the thud of a body hit the earth and Mikey tried to run forwards, Ryan and Will grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him backwards.
"Tu ne peux pas le sauver, il est déjà mort." Ryan's quiet voice came as a lull to his ears as he fell into the bodies, mud coating his back. He couldn't understand a word he said but Will's nod came as a comfort as he whispered, "Dallon's dead, there's no point risking yourself to save a dead man." With tears in his eyes Mikey nodded and carefully crawled with the others. Dallon sacrificed himself to save their lives and they were leaving his corpse to rot in the fields with the hundreds of other soldiers, his name nothing more than a scraping upon a dog tag. His body was just like every other body laying in the gloom, battered by the weather and they had to leave him behind to become just another corpse on the battlefield of lies constructed by sharp witted tongues as men were led into a war they never wanted to fight.

The smell of rotting flesh brought bile to the base of his throat as he tried not to spew the minimal rations he had had. Uniform clinging to ribs the men crawled through the freezing mud, nipping at their toes through water logged boots. William kept an arm wrapped around Mikey, keeping him close and keeping him warm. Will deemed Mikey as his little brother and cared for him as one. He would always sneak Mikey his own rations, rations Mikey refused every time. But Will tried every single week anyways. He couldn't stand to see bones poked through thinly stretched skin, wet socks that caused feet to blister and skin to crack. "Come on brother we need to keep moving." He smiled and pulled him along, as Mikey leaned into him shivering from the mud as it cloaked their knees and feet. Guns trailing in the bodies they advanced, clawing their way back to camp to report all casualties, one member absent from the party. A member deemed never to return as he met his fate in the fields of freezing flesh.

Mikey stood up, back hunched he crouched through the landscape. His legs couldn't trek through the mud any longer, he had to stand, had to run. He had to run through the onslaught of bullets. Screams pierced the air like the shriek of a Ravens call on deaths doorstep as a bullet tore through Mikey's thigh. Hitting the ground he wrapped fingers around the wound, warm blood seeped through his hands and trickled down his leg as he bit down on his tongue trying to keep the screamed to a minimum. Rough calloused hands seized his shoulders and pulled him along the ground. The bullet had only grazed his skin but pain still shot through his veins as debris scraped at his wound and left a thick trail of blood. William swung him over his muscled shoulders and followed Ryan and the others through the maze of lost souls.

Ears greeted by the drill of a bomber plane wings cut through the air as it circled back, the one from earlier returning to scout the area. Ryan screamed for them to get down as he pulled a corpse over him, as he knew he was trapped in the open, their figures already spotted. Most of their men had been gunned down already, Ryan, Mikey and Will were the only ones left. Trapped in isolation Will threw Mikey to the ground, his body hit Mikey's and crushed his thin figure into the mud. The whistle of a bomb came from nearby and before anyone could react the blast of heat scorched skin.

Like an oven his fingertips and skin burned from the heat, scorched he screamed in agony. The body pressed on top of him burned in the explosion skin bubbling as debris scraped the corpses around him. Feeling the impact fade, deafened Mikey pushed Will off of him and screamed as tears blurred his vision. He big brother, his only friend, his protector lay dead by his side. Grabbing his corpse and pulling him close he shrieked and smeared blood and tears across his cheeks as wiped a blood stained hand across his face. Hands grabbed him once again and he felt himself thrown over someone's back as he latched onto Will's hand, refusing to let go until Ryan pulled him away.
"Tu ne peux pas le sauver, il est déjà mort." He ignored Ryan's comforting voice still shrieking Will's name.
"Come on Will you promised you'd play cards with me tonight! You promised! You promised you'd live! You promised! You promised we would be okay, YOU PROMISED ME!"