Their sergeant’s barked orders were easily overpowered by the deafening noise of gunfire that echoed all around him. His body was pinned to the ground, a heavy helmet perched atop his greasy, dirt-slathered head. All around him, men were shouting and screaming; some in fear, others in extreme pain as bullet after bullet zoomed past the small group.
“We will take this goddamn hill, men!”
Somehow, he had heard the order from his superior. His eyes focused forward. Directly before them, a small, grassy hill stood. It was scarcely a few degrees steep, he briefly mused. Easily climbable for his daughter-
“Evans, go! Now!”
At the mention of his name, he shook away any lingering thought and began crawling forward. Although he couldn't see them, he knew they were there. A flash of a gun barrel ahead, a rustle of the distant bush. The ear-splitting gunshots that seemed to whiz just past his cheeks. To his immediate right, a fellow man cried out. He turned his head to see a neat hole punched into the man's skull, his helmet clearly long forgotten. He lied still upon the red-streaked ground, his grasp slackening upon the handle of his gun.
“Move! Move! Move!” the sergeant chanted.
Dirt, grass and grime scraped at his exposed arms as he continued to crawl. He readied his weapon and fired at random into the surrounding bushes, his own gun's noises indistinguishable from those around him. The rustling ahead looked almost playful, he thought. He grinned a bit as the memory of a little girl playing hide-and-seek with him flooded his mind.
“I found you!” he had said, his strong arm reaching into the long, spindly fronds and latching onto his daughter's shoulder lightly.
The sound of her giggling was fiercely silenced as a monstrous pang sound flooded his ears. He felt his head vibrate uncomfortably as he realized his helmet had taken a bullet. He was lucky enough to have kept his headgear.
“Almost there! Keep-”
The body of their sergeant fell into the grass, a look of pain evident upon his face. He looked for a fleeting instant to see the man's face. His glazed eyes were staring directly into his own. The world seemed to slow to a snail's pace. He looked ahead, a wall of enemy men now emerging from the foliage. Each wore both a look of malice and a fully-loaded weapon.
“Shoot the bastards!”
He wasn't sure if it was something he had heard from the men surrounding him, or if it was his own thoughts materializing into reality. He aimed his gun and fired again and again. He watched as the men in front of him fell into the grass. He quickly reached into a pocket upon his side and reloaded, the zooming shots around him missing their intended mark. He readied his gun and resumed. Each shot seemed to exit the barrel as a worm exits the earth. He didn't have to look to his sides to know that the men around him were already shot and bleeding. He hardly felt the kiss of white-hot metal punch into his right shoulder. He focused ahead, his weapon ejecting round after round. His daughter was back there in the bushes, waiting for him. All he had to do was go to her.
He felt as though he was being kicked again and again. Blood flowed freely from him; he felt it coating his hands and dripping from his fingers. He continued to press upon the trigger, unsure if the chamber held rounds or not. Suddenly, a force caught his left temple. Strength left him instantly, his eyes going unfocused. His body was failing him, gravity hungrily forcing him downward. He slumped backward, his eyes staring up at the blue skies overhead. Although his ears could barely pick up sound, he knew he still heard her. The faintest of giggling reached him as his final breath escaped from his lungs. He wanted to play with her one last time.
No comments:
Post a Comment