Soldier of Fire

Copyright © 2021 by Dan Harrington
 
All rights reserved.
 
No part of this publication may be produced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
 
ISBN
(eBook) 9781005211523
Soldier of Fire
 
He was in the trenches of Passchendaele. Bullets riddled the entire area cutting down whom ever tried to push forward. Wooden structures were chewed to nothing, little remained of them. Stone and concrete walls where slowly disappearing as well like chips of shale constantly being pulverized. Dirt kicked up everywhere. Dust and smoke hung thick which made it difficult to breathe. There were hundreds of thousands, if not millions of dead thus far. Bodies littered the trenches and surrounding area in heaps. Soldiers had to dig through the bodies of friends and fellow comrades to deepen them. Sickness and disease spread like a wildfire through the ranks. Men were driven to madness from this war. Women were the sniper elite and the toll had been heavy as death took whom-ever when-ever, indiscriminately. Boys were made into men far too early in age. Many quivered in a remote corner of the trenches too afraid to even move. This was The Great War, the war to end all wars. Should have been done in a month, right? It has been years now, so much for a quick war.
Soldiers would briefly pop up to fire their weapons over the edge of the trenches. Most however were shot down and sunk with the remaining dead. Screams and cries of agony filled the air. The cries for help grated on nerves of steel and wore the most hardened soldier down into tears. The dying begged for mercy others lived but wished they hadn’t. Hard to say who was fortunate in this tragic affair. If there was a Hell right now. It was here for sure, this desolate place.
Limbs were scattered remains as far as one could see. So many people could not and would not be identified. This had truly turned into a wasteland. Blood and muck ruled here. A rotted gore of horror.
The enemy now charged across the landscape toward them. This allied soldier spotted them, and his division kept firing their rifles. The enemy came on in a rush. Explosions erupted the whole area as artillery hammered away at them and left small creators in the ground. The enemy still pressed on. They were getting closer, and they would be upon them momentarily. So much for them giving up and retreating.
The Soldier had his rifle ready as he slid the bolt back into place, this was his last bullet he had to make it count. It did count as he pulled the trigger and killed an enemy soldier as they came close to their lines. He then used the bayonet to impale another through the chest. Then he whacked the butt of his rifle into a third soldier, in the face. His nose splattered and he fell, dazed, and was also impaled by the bayonet. So many were dying, and bodies were mounting at an alarming rate. As bodies stacked it was getting harder to move around in the trenches. It wasn’t walking or running more like climbing and scrambling. It was so chaotic and loud. So many noises you could not distinguish the sounds anymore. There came a ringing in the ears that made you deaf.
The enemy soldiers were beginning to over-whelm them. They pushed into the trenches like ants killing the Allied forces in droves. His comrades went into retreat. He had lost his rifle in battle at some point. He was left with his pistol and sabre.
“Run, retreat. I will hold them off here to bottleneck them,” he yelled to his men.
“But sir, you…” A fellow soldier tried to speak when he was cut short.
“Leave now, that is an order,” He yelled angrily, eyes began to have a fiery glow. He turned away and fired his pistol to make sure every bullet hit its mark and that every slash of his sabre would count. All those he encountered died by his blade like warriors. Alias even he could not hold them off long, there was way too many to fend off.
He let his rage take over. Heat radiated from him in waves and was felt from many yards away. He cried out a final roar that could be heard for miles and a huge wave of flame erupted and spread throughout everywhere. Nothing escaped them, they consumed all in their wake. Thousands of screams resounded and then there was a sudden silence that deafened the whole battlefield. The earie landscape was charred. Flanders Fields was an empty husk. Where the Soldier had stood was now a poppy that grew. (05/19/19)