Armistice :: Creative Writing

It was raining. I was crouched in a large burrowed hole, surrounded by sandbags and half filled with sky water. I had not heard a single gun fire in what seemed like forever. I poked my head up, still clutching my gun with both white-knuckled hands. The dust and debris, everything along the empty street collectively turned to mud. Uniformed bodies lingered face down in the mire. The stucco buildings were sprinkled with bullet holes. Our snipers were on the cracked roofs to both sides, looming down on the center street like wicked angels with rifles. I could see Cleveland positioned in the shadows of a cracked building that once resembled a library. The big black figure masked in an ominously volleying afternoon shower. Joe Soap from Florida was hunkered in a leftover trench adjacent to where I was. The Sergeant and the other men assembled in a tall brick building to my left, stitching Healy and hopefully trying to contact head quarters. We had been lost for days with no word from any one, trekking from Caporetto almost to Vienna, through the worst carnage imaginable. We got lost somewhere and happened on a deserted mill town, twenty-three guys reduced to nine, including the Sergeant. Marky, the Sergeant’s messenger boy caught my attention running over to Cleveland unarmed without cover, then calmly to Soap, and then towards myself with something of a smile on his face. â€Å"Henry!† he said out of breath. â€Å"Is everything cleared?† I nodded. â€Å"Well then, the Sergeant would like to see everyone right away!† Marky turned and ran into the big brick building and at first I was uncertain to follow until I saw Cleveland emerge from the shadows with his rifle resting casually on his shoulder. Everyone was crowded around Healy’s lifeless body. He was still alive but the morphine had him now, his eyes swayed back and forth in his skull, his hands bloody and clenched. The Sergeant stood over him, smoking a giant cigar. I don’t know where he got hold of it, but he puffed and smiled and grabbed at his belt like a proud father. â€Å"Boys,† He gleamed. â€Å"I got something to tell y’all.† He paused for a moment. â€Å"The war is done†¦It’s all over. The powers that be had some sort of truce, signed some treaty.