HOME | DD

Description
     Embers scorched the lands. Bodies littered the area, with smoke and blood. Survivors struggled among the rubble, clinging to life. The clouds secured the light from passing. Death- the sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch of it, shrouded this morning. Suddenly, a concussion grenade detonated near the medic tent. Only a few nurses were stunned and then continued their work. It was vital that they kept working because the outcome of this war solely depended on them to rekindle the flame of victory.
***
     Reaching for the medic kit my arm was caught. A hand wrapped in bloodied bandages held my arm firm. The body moaned in pain or sadness, I didn't know, maybe it was both.
     It pulled me closer letting a rough whisper escape the corner of his mouth, "K-kill me…" The grip tightened and twisted. Bandages and rags covered the mass head to toe. Clarence E. Roderick was indented into the metal that hung round his neck. To my back laid dozens of ignored soldiers and civilians, battered and bloody. Some were on the floor, others on cots.
     I drew my attention back to Clarence and my duties as the sounds of war interrupted my thoughts. Though his blonde hair was caked in mud, it still shined from the lamps that illuminated the tent. Under the removed gauze Roderick's pair of rich chocolate circles explored the dim tent then stared at me.
     Scratches and scars covered his face, probably caused by shrapnel. Most of the wounds were already scabs. Some fresh cuts still glistened red. When you start to focus on something all other sounds are shut out.
     "Kill me," cut through the silence like a dagger. I countered with silence; hoping this pup will get the hint that his time isn't here, yet.  I have fixed up many young and promising men just to send them back. Vicious cycles are found in everyday life, while everyday life is a vicious cycle.
***
     After cleaning up the tools and myself I searched for another unable human. There isn't any time for pleasure, or even rest for that matter. War never sleeps and so do the men. The tent has filled over the maximum capacity that now bodies lay outside waiting. Bodies that have lost warmth now wait to be buried or burned.
     "Help me please, sir, I beg of you!" All eyes were drawn to the boisterous cry of the damsel holding a bundled up blanket. The dirt and rags aged the women over fifty. Smudges of dirt, blood, and tears covered her face. She came to stand three feet away; it was then that I saw the bundle drenched in blood. Singed black hair and globs of skin were peeling off the bone.
    Before I could react the women pushed it into my hands. She might have been weak but the force almost knocked me over. There in the folds revealed a head; the ice blue eyes wide open. Only a head, there was no body was attached.
     Claws dug deep into my shoulders, "Save him." Shaking my head I pushed the child back. Her knees buckled and she hit the stained dirt floor. Water poured out of her as she smothered the baby, her baby, with the warmth of her chest.
     "May I have your name?" Eyes like daggers stabbed me. The women dried most of the tears and stood up. She hit the floor so hard that her knees turned crimson. Anger flashed through her eyes.
     "Ada… Ada Barnes, and why do you ask?" Her eyes like black holes were empty and never ending.
     "Record keeping- Now if you'll excuse me, I have some patients that I can actually help." I left her there comforting a lost cause. I didn't feel sorry for Ada Barnes because her child died, I felt sorry for Ada because she would have to wait to reunite with it.
     Rain started to pelt the ground washing the blood away into the soil. The acting General requested that I give a statement on our status. General Edmund Walton is a strong and sturdy man. He is also stubborn and won't die even though he has no mobility.
***
    Knock. Knock. Knock. "Hmm? Oh yes, come in, come in. Do you know why I have requested you?" The old man pointed and I sat on command. Haze clouded the entire room. It was another world. He reached for another cigar attempting yet an always rejected offer. His thin lips encased the lit cigar as he inhaled it. Smoke rings blew in my direction, circling me.
     A black patch covered his right eye while the left one works twice as hard to compensate. Whatever hairs left on his head were all white and dead. I'm surprised Ed isn't bald for how old he is. His uniform was in great condition with a few smudges here and there. It bore four stars for his rank.
     "I would like you to do a status report. But before that gather a team and search the trenches for survivors; we desperately need more men. Got it, Doc?" With a quick nod I exited the tense atmosphere. I thought I was going to suffocate. My stomach churned with the thought of trenches. Many go in and only few come out.
***
     Mud splashed on my boots as I ran through the maze. Three pairs of boots followed behind. Body parts littered the walls and floor. Once in awhile we would come across a body, check the pulse, and then continue on.
     The trail forked and we divided. A full moon illuminated the path ahead. Clouds were scattered across the sky and occasionally blocking our source of light. At times the low visibility caused Wilson or me to trip over nothing.
     A figure jumped into the skinny valley and ran toward us. Gun drawn and face hidden I strained for identification. Collin pushed and I fell; he drew, and then fired. The shadow slouched against the dirt wall, struggling to aim. A single shot went off and the body ceased movement. I wiped the dust off, pick up the red crossed helmet, and then approached. The mask slid off with ease. It revealed a black and blue face with specks of blood dripping from the mouth.
     The boy didn't look older than twenty. The light left his blue eyes. Blonde stuck to the forehead under the helm. Blue eyes and blonde hair made the perfect human in Hitler's eyes. Now the perfect human will be food for the worms.
     Searching in the pockets I found cigarettes, a lighter, letters, and his dog tags. Smearing the blood off the tags read Victor Hanson. Silence engulfed us.
    "It is disgusting to see 'em Nazis throw their future away like this…" whispered Wilson. His eyes, moist from the rain and tears, turned and motioned. Again, we were on our way through the blood stained maze, searching for a way out- for an end.

Description
     Embers scorched the lands. Bodies littered the area, with smoke and blood. Survivors struggled among the rubble, clinging to life. The clouds secured the light from passing. Death- the sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch of it, shrouded this morning. Suddenly, a concussion grenade detonated near the medic tent. Only a few nurses were stunned and then continued their work. It was vital that they kept working because the outcome of this war solely depended on them to rekindle the flame of victory.
***
     Reaching for the medic kit my arm was caught. A hand wrapped in bloodied bandages held my arm firm. The body moaned in pain or sadness, I didn't know, maybe it was both.
     It pulled me closer letting a rough whisper escape the corner of his mouth, "K-kill me…" The grip tightened and twisted. Bandages and rags covered the mass head to toe. Clarence E. Roderick was indented into the metal that hung round his neck. To my back laid dozens of ignored soldiers and civilians, battered and bloody. Some were on the floor, others on cots.
     I drew my attention back to Clarence and my duties as the sounds of war interrupted my thoughts. Though his blonde hair was caked in mud, it still shined from the lamps that illuminated the tent. Under the removed gauze Roderick's pair of rich chocolate circles explored the dim tent then stared at me.
     Scratches and scars covered his face, probably caused by shrapnel. Most of the wounds were already scabs. Some fresh cuts still glistened red. When you start to focus on something all other sounds are shut out.
     "Kill me," cut through the silence like a dagger. I countered with silence; hoping this pup will get the hint that his time isn't here, yet.  I have fixed up many young and promising men just to send them back. Vicious cycles are found in everyday life, while everyday life is a vicious cycle.
***
     After cleaning up the tools and myself I searched for another unable human. There isn't any time for pleasure, or even rest for that matter. War never sleeps and so do the men. The tent has filled over the maximum capacity that now bodies lay outside waiting. Bodies that have lost warmth now wait to be buried or burned.
     "Help me please, sir, I beg of you!" All eyes were drawn to the boisterous cry of the damsel holding a bundled up blanket. The dirt and rags aged the women over fifty. Smudges of dirt, blood, and tears covered her face. She came to stand three feet away; it was then that I saw the bundle drenched in blood. Singed black hair and globs of skin were peeling off the bone.
    Before I could react the women pushed it into my hands. She might have been weak but the force almost knocked me over. There in the folds revealed a head; the ice blue eyes wide open. Only a head, there was no body was attached.
     Claws dug deep into my shoulders, "Save him." Shaking my head I pushed the child back. Her knees buckled and she hit the stained dirt floor. Water poured out of her as she smothered the baby, her baby, with the warmth of her chest.
     "May I have your name?" Eyes like daggers stabbed me. The women dried most of the tears and stood up. She hit the floor so hard that her knees turned crimson. Anger flashed through her eyes.
     "Ada… Ada Barnes, and why do you ask?" Her eyes like black holes were empty and never ending.
     "Record keeping- Now if you'll excuse me, I have some patients that I can actually help." I left her there comforting a lost cause. I didn't feel sorry for Ada Barnes because her child died, I felt sorry for Ada because she would have to wait to reunite with it.
     Rain started to pelt the ground washing the blood away into the soil. The acting General requested that I give a statement on our status. General Edmund Walton is a strong and sturdy man. He is also stubborn and won't die even though he has no mobility.
***
    Knock. Knock. Knock. "Hmm? Oh yes, come in, come in. Do you know why I have requested you?" The old man pointed and I sat on command. Haze clouded the entire room. It was another world. He reached for another cigar attempting yet an always rejected offer. His thin lips encased the lit cigar as he inhaled it. Smoke rings blew in my direction, circling me.
     A black patch covered his right eye while the left one works twice as hard to compensate. Whatever hairs left on his head were all white and dead. I'm surprised Ed isn't bald for how old he is. His uniform was in great condition with a few smudges here and there. It bore four stars for his rank.
     "I would like you to do a status report. But before that gather a team and search the trenches for survivors; we desperately need more men. Got it, Doc?" With a quick nod I exited the tense atmosphere. I thought I was going to suffocate. My stomach churned with the thought of trenches. Many go in and only few come out.
***
     Mud splashed on my boots as I ran through the maze. Three pairs of boots followed behind. Body parts littered the walls and floor. Once in awhile we would come across a body, check the pulse, and then continue on.
     The trail forked and we divided. A full moon illuminated the path ahead. Clouds were scattered across the sky and occasionally blocking our source of light. At times the low visibility caused Wilson or me to trip over nothing.
     A figure jumped into the skinny valley and ran toward us. Gun drawn and face hidden I strained for identification. Collin pushed and I fell; he drew, and then fired. The shadow slouched against the dirt wall, struggling to aim. A single shot went off and the body ceased movement. I wiped the dust off, pick up the red crossed helmet, and then approached. The mask slid off with ease. It revealed a black and blue face with specks of blood dripping from the mouth.
     The boy didn't look older than twenty. The light left his blue eyes. Blonde stuck to the forehead under the helm. Blue eyes and blonde hair made the perfect human in Hitler's eyes. Now the perfect human will be food for the worms.
     Searching in the pockets I found cigarettes, a lighter, letters, and his dog tags. Smearing the blood off the tags read Victor Hanson. Silence engulfed us.
    "It is disgusting to see 'em Nazis throw their future away like this…" whispered Wilson. His eyes, moist from the rain and tears, turned and motioned. Again, we were on our way through the blood stained maze, searching for a way out- for an end.