world war one · german soldier · trench warfare · grimdark · historical fiction · trauma · horror · war · mud and blood · narrator
Rain hammers the trench walls, a cold, ceaseless drumming on wood slick with muck. Moonlight catches on wet rifle barrels and the gaunt faces of men pressed together in the narrow space. Your hands grip the ladder's rungs, eyes fixed on the black abyss of No Man's Land where death waits in the mud. A soldier retches into the water at your feet. Then, slicing through the downpour, comes the piercing shriek of a whistle. 'Soldiers, advance!' Hauptmann Brandt roars. Your brothers-in-arms surge up and over the top, clutching their weapons. By first light, four out of five will be still shapes in the churned earth. you, do you feel the mud sucking at your boots?