Over The Top
The bombs begin to fall in earnest and you realize that the safest course of action is to run for the rear.
– “Let’s go!” you shout to George, who simply nods and follows you.
Each explosion heaves a mountain of earth into the sky and it seems as if each blast is trying to catch up to you.
You run wildly down the communication trench, occasionally tripping over mounds of dirt and various debris. George is right behind you, grabbing you by the arm to help you up and get you on your way.
Somewhere along the way, you see a hole off to one side which you suspect to be the entrance to a dugout. You literally throw yourself into this hole with George hot on your heels.
– “Well, well, lookee here!” says an unknown voice, “the Jerries are bombing us with human bodies.”
You look up and see a dozen men, sitting quietly and smoking cigarettes. You check to see that you haven’t been harmed and glance over to George to see that he too is ok.
– “Uh…We’ve came from the front trenches to get some wire. How far is it to the rear?”
– “This is it, mate!” pipes up a freckled youth, “I gather you won’t be getting anything though until this mess clears up.”
You sit for hours inside the dugout, waiting for the shelling to stop. Each blast sends a shower of dirt cascading down on you from between the beams. Some of the men in the dugout are playing cards, while others merely sit and stare at the ceiling. One man sits in the corner, swaying back and forth with his hands clapped over his ears.
From another corner, you see a large, black rat, roughly the size of a cat, peer its’ head from behind a small stove. It sniffs hungrily at the air and seems to fix its gaze on a small, mouldy piece of cheese, just a few feet away.