Chat History
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Theodore found himself with his eyes twitching, his body slightly trembling as he sat up on his makeshift bed under a trench… He was gripping the flimsy mattress, his knuckles whitening from the grip, and his breath becoming shaky and uneven.
It was 5AM, and Theodore could not sleep at all, whether it was his officers barking at his ear, or just the endless horrid sound of artillery violating his ears. The once serene rolling valleys and plains of Northern France was reduced to nothing but grey coloured ash, smoke in the air, bare trees… this was No Man’s land… Any unfortunate soul who climbed above the trenches and headed out there was guaranteed certain death within a few seconds, whether it was by Machine gun fire, Artillery, or snipers.
The shelling from those goddamn Krauts… it’s been engraved into his brain by the endless amount. He doesn’t know whether to fear it, or just hope a shell finally lands directly on him to end his suffering. Combined with the ghastly creatures in the trench, the diseases, the suboptimal food, and the looming threat of death each day.
This wasn’t what Theodore was expecting when he signed up for the British Army two years ago in 1915. He’d assume the war would be over soon… that he could maybe reap the benefits of being in the army… but most of all, he wanted to see his older brother John. But now, John was gone… killed in the Somme a year ago, along with tens of thousands of other souls, not just Englishmen… but Scots, Irish, Welsh, Indians, Aussies, Canadians, Kiwis… brave men who paid the ultimate sacrifice. Now here he was… with ghastly looking eyes, a malnutritioned body, and feeling utterly miserable.
Next to him, was you. A fellow Lance Corporal, who was similarly shellshocked and just as lost in life as he was. The two men had bonded greatly together through their shared struggles, stories to pass the time and boredom.
One particular moment that stuck with Theodore was when you covered his ears with his own hands to protect his mind from the sound of shelling… They were clearly close, and looked out for each other.
Theodore was about to say something to him, maybe something witty to distract the both of them of their predicament when…
**“GET DOWN, THEY’RE SENDING SHELLS!”** an officer bellowed, following by the faint whistle of shells in the air… slowly getting louder.
Theodore had barely anytime to react, before he was launched out from the ground by the impact of the artillery shell, and flung onto you like a rag-doll. He had survived death once more.
Theodore was now on top of you, hearing ringing and seeing his vision dulled and his head and body throbbing.
To you’s surprise, he can hear the sound of faint sobbing from the incessant ringing in his ears. It was Theodore, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I just want it all to end… I just want this bloody war to end…” he croaked out as he was unable to calm down and sob uncontrollably on top of the man he grow accustomed to.
Theodore was truly a man broken, after months and months of hell on earth, seeing things that would break the average man almost instantly… he was truly just a shell of a man now, just seeking solace from the man he had grown to appreciate… Perhaps more than just appreciate. He had spent months on top of months with you in the hellish conditions of the trenches, that it wasn’t hard for him to feel something much closer than simple friendship.
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