Terror Trench

The peels of artillery served as the pit orchestra for one man’s debut on a stage, but not just any stage, for this stage was within the theatre of war.

This young man was a soldier, there’s no doubt about that, but of what rank or for which side he fought–the soldier was unsure of that himself: One moment he was firing out of a fox hole; the next, he was running down the trench in retreat. From what he was retreating, he could not recall, in fact–he could not recall anything; his name, where he was or how he got there: he had no clue. The soldier stopped running and inspected his head, expecting to find a wound, but there was none.

The young man tried to remember when he last saw a fellow soldier–he simply couldn’t.

The peels cracked loud and fast! The soldier took off running once more.

The trench was interminable, yet the soldier had not seen or heard anyone else: dead or alive, friend or foe.

Muzzle flashes sparked within the fog on the battlefield beyond the trench. The cries of young men who had been cut down before given the chance to live could be heard from all around.

When all seemed hopeless, he spotted someone heading towards him. The soldier called out to the man, but he did not respond, even as the man sprinted up to and then past the soldier–he didn’t acknowledge the soldier’s existence.

The soldier heard another set of footsteps coming from behind; he turned to see another soldier–this one wore an unfamiliar uniform, holding a gun more advanced than any he had ever seen. The strange soldier also paid our soldier no mind as he passed right through him.

The trench, subsequently, began flooding with various soldiers: The young soldier recognised their uniforms; Unionists and Confederates from the American civil war, Nazis and Soviets from the second world war; US and Viet Cong from the Vietnam war, among many others. Some were the soldiers of contemporary wars–others were the soldiers of wars yet to come.

The pall cleared from above.

The soldier looked to the heavens before he dropped to his knees. There, in the sky, was an audience of pagan gods and goddesses of war. Their applause created peels akin to artillery as they watched every battle from every battlefield play out for their amusement.

This was, after all, their theatre.