Johann's surroundings darkened, and he saw himself in the forest, a thin layer of mist around his ankles. Wild shots whizzed past him. Desperate Russians attempting to break out of the encirclement. Screams echoed around him. One, two, five. After an hour he had thirty marks etched into the frame of his 98k.
Hans tugged on his boot, drawing him out of the past. “Let’s get inside a bunker, double time.”
“Go ahead, I can still take out a handful,” Johann shouted as he leveled his rifle and picked out the next target. An automatic sequence kicked into place and he fired shot after shot into the enemy trench as artillery focused on pounding the front line and destroying the layers of barbed wire and defenses built up.
Hans pulled him down off the ladder and shook him up against the wall. “We need to get to safety. Katarina would never forgive me if I left a friend behind.”
Johann nodded, and they darted along through the thin rows leading to the bunker. Shells crashed beside them, showering them with chunks of rock and dirt. He made out the faint reply on their side as German artillery launched a counter salvo.
The response fell short by a cacophony of explosions. Johann paused to stare as their entire artillery position and the munitions bunker were demolished in a ball of fire. Bits of metal and shrapnel were flung across the hill top. He tightened his grip around the rifle and pushed on towards the bunker.
Shelling shook the bunker interior but failed to land a direct hit. They may be sturdy but he knew they weren’t impenetrable. Inside, soldiers were slumped against the walls with their knees tucked against their chests. A few prayed to make it through.
“Just in time,” Johann said. He stopped and scanned for the familiar face, realizing he’d wandered in alone.
A shudder ran down Johann’s body as he approached the door leading back outside. The screeching continued on outside but Johann ran back out with his head ducked as he searched for Hans, screaming his name over the explosions and gunfire rattling in the distance.
“Johann,” came a wheezy cry from a nearby ditch. Johann raced over and helped lift his friend’s head. Hans held onto his stomach, trying to keep it all in place. He coughed blood and gazed at him with empty eyes. “I mned your ‘elp pullin’ it out.”
“No, no, no! What the hell are you— ah, this doesn’t look good.”
Johann watched in horror as blood continued to seep out of the wound and through his fingers. The arid stench filled his nostrils. He couldn’t help the dread that came with being unable to remedy a situation. The war was hundreds of feet off, not in front of him. Now he needed to be a medic but all he ever studied was astronomy. The stars did him little good in helping his friend. A handful of fingernail sized shrapnel dug its way into his gut. “Medic! I need a medic here. You're going to be all right.” He tore off his sleeve and pressed it against the wound.
“I can hear them singing,” Hans said, no longer looking at him. His face was as pale as the moon. He stirred and reached into his pocket, pulling out the envelope he'd stashed earlier. “Make sure— knows I loved her ’til end.”
The shaking and stammering stopped. The pain and fighting etched in his face eased away for a cold serenity. Johann, still holding his hand, squeezed a little harder while trying to keep the tears out of his eyes.
Two men popped their heads out from the bunker and spotted him. They came and helped carry Hans inside the bunker and set him down on one side. They spoke but he couldn’t make out the words in the blur that stretched through his mind.
After a few minutes, he stood and spun around.
“Gefreiter, where’s the phone?” Johann barked at the only man left standing.
“It-it’s just over there.” The private raised his hands as if Johann had his gun aimed at him. He pointed at a small side room where the phone hung on the wall.
Johann regretted his outbreak but didn’t have the nerve to think things through all the way. He stomped over and snatched the phone. The stressed communications officer on the other end quickly directed him to Captain Gruber.
The man picked up the phone with a heavy sigh, no doubt already annoyed with having to deal with the sharpshooter. Gruber was a career man before the war. Had his own office and oversaw training in Prussia. “You better still be in one piece.”
“Klaarson…he’s gone.”
There was a long moment of silence where all he could hear were the explosions and static. Enemy fire could destroy the lines at any minute. Then, finally, the captain spoke, “Pull back to headquarters and await reassignment.”
“Pull back? Herr Hauptmann, we’re under attack. I can’t just leave Hans behind, not when he was this close to reaching Paris.” Johann knew, that if he stopped fighting, and the line collapsed, there would be a 1919 and a 1920 spent in the trenches. The only thing left for him to do was continue fighting until he won or died as the hero people around him imagined him to be.
“Boelke, Immelmann, Richthofen,” Captain Gruber said, listing up the ace pilots that were renown on both sides of the war. “We’ve lost too many heroes to lose the Sharpshooter of Tannenberg as well. Hauptgefreiter, this is a direct order from Crown Prince Wilhelm von Preussen. Get out of there, now.”
With a clack, the line went out and Johann stood there staring idly at the wall. Gruber gave him the perfect opportunity to pack up and leave. He turned around, noting the men he knew would not live through the day. Nine soldiers to fight until reinforced by the rear.
Hans’ body laid on the damp ground, sending Johann’s heart lurching in all directions. Anyone he cared about was gone or had moved on in their lives without him. His gaze dropped to the bloodied envelope in his hand. The only thing left for him was to make sure Katarina received Hans’ letter and then take a final stroll over No-man’s-land. He pulled Hans’ lids down and took the letter, folding it up into his breast pocket. Johann didn’t want to leave him there like a sack of potatoes but he didn’t have the strength to carry him three kilometers. Hans deserved a proper burial and he would see to it once he got back to headquarters.
The barrage came to a swift end, one in which Johann didn't know if they were preparing for the next round or halting their fire to prevent hitting their own troops. Either way, it meant little good for him and the other members of the squad.
Johann picked up the rifle and checked the chamber to make sure he had a round loaded. He smacked the anchor shut and waited for the others with his knuckles going white from the tight grip he held onto his rifle when a soft hum drew his attention outside the bunker.
Thousandfold. Similar to the rhythmic chaos at headquarters with hundreds of typists let loose on their typewriters. It gradually came closer until he could feel the vibrations crawling on his skin.
The sergeant used a visor to confirm that the guns were silent and the enemy advancing. “Okay men, let's move out and help our brothers. Let’s make them pay for every foot they set forward. How hard are we?”
“Hard as Krupp steel,” the troop replied in unison.
Once the squad all left the bunker, the sergeant paused under the door way. A coat of grey dust smeared his forehead. “What’s with you? We could use a man of your talents.”
Johann froze, weighing between the two options and the desperate look the sergeant gave him. Katarina needed to hear it from him. He forced his mouth open. “I have my orders.”
The lieutenant watched him for another minute, nodded and turned to leave the bunker when a large black object crashed into him and knocked him down.
Johann dropped to the ground instinctively, prepared to meet his fiery end at the hands of an artillery shell. He always knew it would come at the hands of an explosion. A sudden death, he couldn’t resist. Like the one he gave to countless soldiers on the other side. Moments passed and he found himself still alive. Carefully, he pulled back his arms and glanced ahead to where the object had crashed. His gut hit rock bottom along with all the joints in his body tensing up.
A giant spider, easily two meters tall, stood by the door and blocked the only way out of the bunker. The sheer size cast a long shadow on him. It cocked its head to the side with a snap and eight beady eyes, spread over its ugly face, glared right back at him.
Sergeant Muller was nowhere to be found, with any luck he managed to get away and would get help. He dared not imagine the alternatives.
Johann's rifle laid on the floor between him and the spider. He eyed it, wringing his fingers into action and slowly sprawled forward.
The spider lowered itself, appearing as if it were cowering before the might he was about to unleash upon it. A simple shot to the head should be enough to take it out. Once he killed the damn thing, he could start asking questions —like where the hell it came from.
His fingertips brushed against the stock of the rifle but he froze at the sudden high-pitched squeal. He winced, pulling back but was too slow. The spider leapt onto him, tackling him to the ground and knocking all the air out of his lungs. Johann gasped, trying to suck in air and scream for help. The pincers slapped against his face as he struggled to heave the beast off him.
The spider saw an opening and moved in immediately with its chelicerae boring right into his gut. A rancid stench filled the air as thick, warm liquid oozed into his body.
Johann felt bile creep up into his throat and spill onto his tongue. He gritted his teeth together and pulled enough strength together to shove the spider off him. Scrambling to his feet, he immediately searched for the rifle. He blinked several times in an attempt to focus his blurring vision, but the world around him spun and his head became lighter with each passing moment. He gave up on the gun and felt his way along the wall, probing his way deeper into the bunker.
“Alarm! Help,” Johann shouted as his knees buckled. He tightened his grip and forced himself upright.
Sharp cracks echoed behind him. He turned on his heel and caught sight of the black mass wandering upside down on the ceiling. Johann stumbled back and fell to the ground. Hans' wide, pleading eyes shot up and glared right back at him.
The spider leapt down and sunk its jackknife fang into Johann's shoulder, pouring more of its venom into the young man.
The heat overwhelmed Johann as it surged through his body. His vision had gone dark and he barely had the strength to lift his hand again let alone defend himself. His stomach churned as he was hoisted into the air and delicately wrapped. “Lez go bag home, Hans.”
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