Bruno guzzled water.
A blast quaked the earth. Bits of rock and dirt showered down from the ceiling of the timber-lined dugout. A man wailed.
Bruno turned. In the corner was a soldier, no more than eighteen years of age given his lack of facial hair, trembling and wriggling on the floor as if he was having a seizure.
“Henri,” the gaunt-faced soldier said. “He’s gone mad.”
Hysteria, Bruno thought.He’s been driven insane by cannonade.
A bomb exploded, rumbling the dugout. The young soldier whimpered and arched his back, like he’d been given an electrical shock.
“Try wrapping him in blankets,” Bruno said. “And put plugs in his ears.” He turned and approached the exit.
“Are you sure you want to go out there?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Nein,” Bruno said, peering to the trench. “But I need to find General Kainz.”
Before he lost his nerve, Bruno fled the dugout and slogged through muck. From dugout to dugout, he maneuvered through the winding trench. Reaching an intersection, he stepped over the upper torso of a fallen soldier with a gaping jaw and intestines strewn over the mud, and then made his way forward. He buried his fear and forced his legs to move faster. Minutes later, he reached the front line and the shellfire stopped.
He leaned against the wall of the trench and sucked in air, attempting to cool the burning in his lungs. German soldiers, carrying rifles with bayonets, emerged from dugouts and crouched along the fire step. Some prayed, while others removed personal belongings from their pockets. A soldier, his hands trembling and struggling to affix his bayonet, bent over and vomited onto the ground. The shrill of whistles, followed by the barking of machine guns, pierced the air. Pistol-wielding officers ordered the men to attack. Soldiers climbed out of the trench and into battle, but scores of the men—killed or maimed by a hurricane of bullets—tumbled back into the trench.
God help them. Bruno staggered through the wounded and dead, as well as the soldiers waiting for their turn to go up and over into no-man’s-land.
“Where’s General Kainz’s dugout?” Bruno shouted to a group of soldiers.
A man pointed. “Hundred meters!”
Bruno, determined to reach the general, slogged ahead. But as he narrowed in on the location of the dugout, screams and gunfire erupted from within the trench. His blood turned cold. He turned and saw French soldiers, wearing horizon-blue-colored uniforms and carrying rifles, appear at a bend in the trench.They’ve broken through!
Bruno’s heart rate soared. In one swift motion, he removed his pistol from its holster and discharged his ammunition, felling two soldiers. Bullets whizzed near his face. He turned and sprinted, all the while attempting to reload his weapon, only to encounter dozens of French soldiers pouring into the trench from above. Within seconds, the German line was overwhelmed. With no other option of escape, he scampered up the side of the trench and crawled toward the German lines. A barrage of bullets split the air, inches above his body. He pressed his chin to the dirt and pushed ahead.
Meter by meter, he clawed and kicked his way over mud, shrapnel, and corpses. Bullets flared above his head.I’ll never make it to the support trench—it’s too far!Forty meters into his crawl, his hands reached a void in the earth, and he tumbled into a large shell crater, its basin filled with knee-deep, frigid water. He got to his feet, his drenched coat weighting him down like a lead blanket. He dug his hands into his pockets, and then into the water, but was unable to locate his pistol. As he began to climb out of the hole, German machine guns erupted from the support trenches. A swarm of bullets ripped the air above him. Realizing that his odds of avoiding both enemy and friendly gunfire were remote, he crouched at the side of the crater and waited for the fighting to diminish.
A French soldier, carrying a rifle, plunged into the hole.
Bruno, his adrenaline surging, shot up.
The Frenchman’s eyes locked on Bruno. He charged forward with a bayonet.
Bruno dived, feeling the blade scrape his side, and crashed into the basin. As the Frenchman swung around, Bruno sprang up from the water and tackled the man onto his back. Gripping the rifle in both hands, he overpowered the Frenchman, who was smaller and younger that Bruno. He pressed the barrel of the rifle over the man’s neck, sinking his head under the water.
The Frenchman flailed his legs. Bubbles streamed from his nose and mouth.
Bruno’s pulse pounded in his ears. But as the man’s body weakened, Bruno hesitated, releasing pressure on the soldier’s throat.
The Frenchman raised his head above the water. He choked and gasped for air.
“I’m taking you as prisoner,” Bruno said. “But I’ll kill you if you cause any trouble.”
The Frenchman sucked in deep breaths.
“Do you understand?”
The Frenchman nodded.
Bruno exhaled, and then lifted the rifle.
The Frenchman lunged and sank his teeth into Bruno’s hand.
