The air felt heavy with bullets flying over our fortification. Machinegun was buzzing non-stop, searching for targets in a form of heads wearing helmets. Bursts of fire made us stick to the ground and pray for the God of War. A medic ran through the trench, pulling the dead bodies down in the water.
– Leave them there! – a sergeant yelled, – They provide a good cover, you prick! – he said, and it sounded like he was a bigger prick than the young boy that kept pulling parts down.
I looked at him in a swing of a head, then I turned toward my comrade and took a long stream of smoke, that made Stive cry, entering his eyes, burning his tools he needed to shoot sharp. He held his sniper like a girl and gasped as an old woman. My smirk didn’t brought him joy, just more aggravations and ill look on his face. He waved his arm around to remove smoke and coughed ruff at the elbow. I threw my cigarette buff down his barrel while he wasn’t looking, and laughed quietly at the joke. His cough made him jerk up and stick his riffle in the wet trench mud.
– What? You have problems with a little smoke soldier? – I laughed, but he gave me a face disfigured with despise, – Calm down. We’ll be here for a while. – I said trying to overpower the sounds of a machinegun.
– Fuck this shit. – he said loading the bullet in chamber.
I thought he wanted to become a hero, rise bravely and silence the bursts of fire that mowed down the trench line. He took few sharp breaths and mounted the riffle butt on his shoulder. A small adjustment on the scope, and he was ready for lethal maneuvers. He swinged his riffle few times from left to right to make the shot more automatic and his move fast positioned on the trench wall. He was ready. One more fast inhale and he was at the edge, looking for the basstard.
Click’ – the riffle sounded and it exploded in his face, killing him in the spot.
– Fuck. – I spelled it out, looking at the smoking scorched crater under the helmet, – That was meaningless.