Over the Top
Swiping the grime off of his face with his already mud and blood-soaked glove, Joshua continued to crawl through the poorly constructed trenches. The sides had been a bit blown apart because of the bombs and shells, and so if he were to raise his head Fritz would kill him in one shot. For the trench was surrounded by the enemy, and at all times Joshua was on edge. He crouched in fetal position as close to the edge of the trench as he could and took off his glove. He swiped at beads of sweat forming on his dark brow and fingered the picture of his parents in his breast pocket. It was old and worn by now, but it still captured their likeness.
They didn’t know he was going off to fight, how could they? He lied about his age in enlistment, told them he had a scholarship. Left them a note telling the truth. They loved him, he knew it, and would most likely send for him when they found out. Except they didn’t. Joshua let a tear fall into the swamp which was the bottom of this three-foot trench. Then he moved on. He couldn’t focus on what he had lost. He had to keep going.
Joshua suddenly fell into shell-hole he didn’t know was ahead of him. As he crawled over the bodies reeking of blood and death, he noticed a yellow-green vapor climbing towards him, thirsty to destroy his lungs.
As he placed his mask on his face, he noticed that there was no way out of the shell-hole other than the trench or over the top. Joshua shuddered, remembering the fiery slaughter that he barely escaped. He raised the cuff of his pants and noticed how burnt his legs were. Had he been at home, he’d have gone to a clean hospital where he would have been taken care of right away. But he wasn’t at home, and there wasn’t much of a home to go back to. The bank probably sold it for the war efforts.
Joshua was suddenly furious with the world for starting this war that had him in this place. Furious for how hopeless his situation was. Furious for what it had taken from him. He wanted to take his mask of an let the gas take him in a violent way that would match his violent mood.
But then Joshua remembered. He remembered that he was not alone in this fight, this war, this life. The enemy was as good as defeated, after all. The war would end in a few months and he could find a life for himself. He pulled his pant leg down, grabbed his bayonet, and headed towards the fight. Over the top, he went, over the top to overcome the enemy.
