A Short Story
By
Ken Anderson
Rain! Goddamn rain and mud was all I’d smelled or tasted since the tree fell on my sorry ass during the battle. It splattered my face, making fun of my misery as I lay pinned belly-down and helpless in the stinking French muck. It smacked of horse shit, gunpowder, and piss.
It was late morning when our part of the fight for the Argonne began, and I was out of the trench just behind the sergeant, when I heard incoming. I slid into a shallow gully on a hillside, waiting for the screaming round to explode nearby. When the ground stopped shaking, I heard the jerk-ass lieutenant’s whistle and I started crawling forward like a dogface is trained to do.
Then this bastard of a big tree hit me and drove me into the sloppy, artillery-plowed ground.
Oh, yeah; I saw it coming, but it was on me before I could spit.
The lieutenant, a moron, always wanted our outfit to be the first to jump out of the trenches in pursuit of the enemy. Most of the time the Kaiser’s disciplined troops were reluctant to be chased. The looey’s stupidity caused a lot of soldiers their lives or limbs—how many besides me got it this time?
When I regained consciousness, I couldn’t tell whether I had been knocked blind or if it was pitch dark. I felt numb from my neck down, and I couldn’t move anything but one eyelid and my lips. The tree was shoving the right side of my face and my nose deeper into the manure-laden slime.
How long had I been out–a few hours; a day; maybe more?
Skeesh . . . Skeesh . . . Skeesh . . .
A patrol passed so close that I heard their boots squishing in the muck, and I tried to yell for help. Friend or foe—it didn’t matter. I wanted out from under that goddamned tree, but my burdened chest wouldn’t suck enough air to let me grunt, nor could my swollen lips have formed words.
—————————————
This is an excerpt from a short story; leave a comment if you want to read more.
—————————————
Rain is copyrighted© 2007 by Ken Anderson. All rights reserved.
Brasstacks44 
Very good short story. I think I like a lot a young soldier Bonelli. Excellent description of his helplessness, his ache, his anger and his good sense of humor. You wrote this story so skilfully; I think about plot and dialogues.
You’re very talented, my friend.
Thank you very much, my dear friend. Your comments are forever welcome. 🙂