THE FRONT: PART 11
Nightfall came early in Passchendaele, the sky was overcast and light fled much earlier as a result. Scott sat on the steps of an unoccupied parapet, feeling an intense sensation of sorrow go through him. He looked over at the stripes pinned to his right shoulder and wiped them free of moisture.
"Sir?" Asked someone from the darkness, Scott squinted at their dim form and saw that it was a new anthro who had arrived to replace Private Martin. Scott struggled with the name for a second but then gave up, there was too much he had to do.
"Yes Private?" Scott asked, trying to sound confident and calm. The anthro tugged a boot free of the mud and shifted to a spot where the mud wasn't as deep.
"You need to organize the watch, Mr. Wynter just asked me to tell you that, sir." Scott nodded, the anthro had used Mr., the term for a soldier who had no official rank. But thinking of that just made Scott feel even sadder, he was benefitting from Wynter's impending death, something that caused him intense guilt whenever he thought about it.
But he couldn't just sit there and feel sorry for himself, he needed to be a leader, Wynter had given him his stripes after all, an officer didn't do that to just anyone.
Scott stood up, tugged his rifle strap over his shoulder and followed the anthro back to the rest of the squad. They were bidding farewells to the four soldiers about to depart on the raid.
Wynter was standing well back from the three enlisted anthros, his hands clasped behind his back, and his tail dragging in the mud. He looked bemused, he had made his peace, but didn't know if the others had.
Scott stood quietly for a second, then cleared his throat loudly, the squad immediately quieted, recognizing him as their new Sergeant.
"First order of business," began Scott, he tried his best to sound cheerful, but instead his voice came out strangely false, and a few of the anthros looked at him, knowing that he was just as scared as them. "The first order of business is organizing the watch, who is up?"
A fox raised his hand and Scott sent him up to the parapet, it was eight o' clock, the fox's watch would be done at ten. Scott picked a few others at random, who hadn't had watch recently and was about to walk away when something stabbed him in the thigh.
He winced at the pain, and reached into his pocket, the pin of his Corporal's stripes had come undone and stabbed into his thigh, drawing blood. There was one more thing he had to do.
"Which one of you has been here the longest?" Scott asked the assembled anthros, Private Baker immediately raised a hand.
"If you don't mind me asking, sir, but why?" Scott showed him the Corporal's stripes in silent response. Private Baker nodded and stepped forwards as Scott pinned them onto his right shoulder.
"Thank you, sir." Said Corporal Baker, and stepped backwards to join the ranks of his comrades. A few looked jealous, but most looked relieved, they obviously liked Corporal Baker, and were happy that he was an officer. Scott smiled weakly and looked at Wynter, who was checking a pocket watch. The raid was scheduled for eleven, there were three more hours to go.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWELVE...