THE FRONT: PART 5
Scott stood in shock for a second, while the German soldier continued his slow advance up the trench. There were others behind him and Scott saw to his horror that many of their bayonets were bloodied, they had been killing the British while they slept in their dugouts. Scott leveled his rifle and saw the German soldier look directly at him, then Scott squeezed his trigger and the German was thrown backwards, blood blossoming from the hole in his throat. He fell into another soldier behind him and his rifle went off as well. Then more gunshots sounded and British soldiers erupted from their dugouts, many clutching only knives or pistols. Scott leapt off of the parapet, a strange mixture of exhilaration and fear racing through him. He slashed his bayonet at a German, but the man dodged backwards and lunged forwards. Scott saw his own death before him, but the bayonet never reached him. Instead someone else tackled the German and Scott saw the bayonet slash past him as both of the soldiers tumbled into the mud.
Scott fell against the side of the trench, feeling acutely how close he had been to being killed. Then more Germans began to pour over the wall of the trench and Scott knew that this was much more than a raid, this was a full on attack. But the British were fully awake now and any advantage that the Germans might have gained by a surprise attack was now lost. Mortars began to rain down and Scott felt the explosive concussions rattle his teeth. The fight, lit only by the flashes of the mortars and artillery was nightmarish. A British sergeant stood up and shot a wounded German in the face before casually strolling back into the fight as if it was an ordinary every day action. Bodies coated the bottom of the trench, a few of them trying to get back up, uniforms were covered in mud, making it next to impossible to tell ally from enemy.
Bayonets glistened with blood, then more artillery sounded and Scott realized that it was German. Shells hit the support trenches behind Scott's and Scott heard men crying out as shrapnel sliced into them. A fox stumbled past him, blood sheeting down his face from a bayonet wound that had sliced his ear off.
Then, suddenly the shells adjusted and began to hit the front line trench, blasting friend and enemy to bits. Scott huddled behind his parapet and closed his eyes, unable to take the sheer amount of blood and horror. The savage cries of anthros as they butchered each other grated against Scott's ears and he sobbed helplessly, cradling his head in his hands, wondering how anthros could ever be this cruel to each other.
Shrapnel splintered wood near Scott's side and he felt a new surge of fear, he didn't want to die. Then a shell whistled overhead and exploded near the support trenches, showering the fighting anthros in mud and shrapnel. Dozens crumpled, but more men rushed forwards, swinging rifles and bayonets, firing pistols and hurling grenades, killing each other by the dozens.
Nobody noticed Scott as he cowered in the relative safety of the shadow of his parapet, his rifle held diagonal against his chest, the bolt open and no new bullet loaded. His trench knife was still stuck into the side of the trench above him, but Scott didn't notice, he was only focused on self preservation, he was too young to die.
Then a shell landed near the parapet and the concussion blew the structure down, splintering the wood and collapsing the steps on top of Scott. One second he was sitting against the side of the trench, the next he was buried amid scraps of splintered wood and mud. Scott gasped for air and pulled himself out. His helmet was gone and his uniform was covered in mud. Crawling out of the shattered parapet, Scott felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him up. Looking up Scott saw a small fox with lieutenant's stripes, he was holding a Webley and as Scott watched he shot an advancing German in the stomach, then looked back at Scott.
"Who are you?" He yelled over the din, firing another few shots randomly into the melee. It took a few seconds for Scott to find his voice.
"Corporal Godfrey." He said weakly, but the lieutenant heard him and began to drag him away from the fight. At first Scott was confused, then he looked down and saw blood staining his side and thigh. He was wounded.
The lieutenant deposited Scott amid a line of other wounded soldiers and Scott watched him advance back into the fray before looking at the other wounded. There were about twenty of them, all leaking blood through their bandages. A few were dead, but most were alive, despite the shrapnel that occasionally whipped through their ranks, slicing into an arm, a leg, any bit of exposed body.
Scott felt a renewed burst of fear squeeze his heart and he curled into a ball, hoping with all of his heart that he wouldn't die. Tears leaked from his eyes and he knew that he would never forget any of this, no matter ho hard he tried.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART SIX...