Snippet #1251207

“You lot” called Alexei, as the NCOs came out of the dugout, “Have been placed in our tender care, as third platoon of second company, first battalion, ninth Laufland Fusiliers. Its is our great fortune, that second company is currently serving on the front line, rather then sitting on our arses back in reserve. You’ll be following us down to trench section two-nineteen, where the beds are softer then the King’s and we’ll eat better then lords.”

Brian sauntered along the laid wooden planks that were emplaced to help keep the traction a soldier's boots would surely loose in the muck and grime of the mud in a heavy rainfall of the trenches. He held his rifle by the heft past the weapons slide chamber. His shoulders straight, squared away with feet; a mere 1-inch 'hat' atop his head. His uniform was itchy, but he was by this point, accustomed to it. The four week training program he was rushed through made him used to its discomfort.

Turnng his head, Brian's eyes caught the glimpse of the setting sun beyond this ditch he was in. So part of him asked himself, what was he even doing here? Had God intervened ad lead him on this path? Had he inexplicably, force him on this journey or had he himself lead himself to this point? With a forlorn expression, Brian would sigh in silent lament. He couldn't necessarily abandon those around him that needed him. He wasn't afraid of being accused of treason if he had gone AWOL--more, what his comrades would think of him. Their opinions meant more to him, than his meager existence. It was getting late now, ad the chill of the late evening gales and zephyrs had begun to blow across the carved out paths of earth.

It was terribly silent now. Somewhere, lurking just above the hill crest, was the enemy. He was out on patrol, watching the side paths from creeping enemy that would attempt to flank and overwhelm their positions. Brian came to a juncture in the trench, where it split into two other paths excluding his own. His head turned one way; troops lining the dirt cover walls- roots from blown apart trees sticking out, the stumps acting as added cover. Looking the other way, a retreat into the earth itself, acting like a bunker of clay. Brian never really trusted them, he was always cautious because if an artillery shell had struck enough times it would inevitably collapse.