Everything burned in flames.
Human power is national power. Each one aims their guns at the other, and bullets deliver an equal death to anyone.
In a battlefield where sanitary conditions are utterly poor, getting shot makes you virtually combat ineffective. If you don’t take quick follow-up measures, infection is almost guaranteed.
Thus, technological prowess is meaningless. I repeat, firearms are fair to everyone.
No matter how exceptional a gun may be, no matter how skillfully you may dig trenches, no matter how superior the firepower of your tanks may be.
When both sides dig trenches and aim machine guns at each other, everything becomes futile.
In such a situation, naturally, only one absolute condition remains. It overturns the dynamics of the battlefield that has continued through long history and establishes a rule of war.
“Numbers are a weapon.”
They are fed in. Whether caught in barbed wire, mercilessly butchered by a machine gun firing non-stop, or crushed to death under the few experimental tanks thrust onto the battlefield.
While it’s true that the existence of tanks may change the battle dynamics in the future, it cannot be denied that this great war has taken on the aspect of a war of attrition.
If we push, they are pushed back. If they push, we are pushed back.
And it repeats.
What was our trench yesterday becomes their trench today.
What was their trench today becomes our trench tomorrow.
“……”
Since just two days ago until this morning, snow has fallen. It kept falling without a break. It was the first snowfall of the year.
Could it be because of the cold weather? This year’s winter is particularly colder than last year, and even though we’ve just entered winter, it has already caused significant snowfall.
The snow that has fallen down relentlessly for two whole days was enough to cover tactical roads and trenches, and…everything in the burned-out no man’s land.
A white hell. It feels like I’m going blind from it.
“Reverend, are you alright?”
“……”
“Reverend Antenelli, are you okay? No… ha…”
The one who approached me was Dennis. Or should I call him a sergeant now?
He sighed as he checked my complexion, removed his helmet, and roughly scratched his head hidden underneath as he sat down in the trench. The cold air inside the trench was chilling enough to make my body shiver.
“Reverend, please come inside quickly. I’ll start a fire.”
“……”
I looked at him silently. After a while, I turned my head back towards the other side. The no man’s land after the snowfall was shrouded in a cold fog.
Under normal circumstances, I should be able to see the distant trench, but the fog was so thick that I couldn’t see a step ahead. If I lost my way in there, I would probably have a hard time.
…If I went in there.
Could I step on unexploded mines and die?
“Phew… it’s really freezing. Reverend Antenelli! I’ve started a fire!”
Sergeant Dennis called out to me. I glanced for a bit longer at the foggy no man’s land before I walked down into the trench where Sergeant Dennis had gone.
The trench looked the same as before. It seemed to have been surrounded by concentrated artillery, and here and there, collapsed and warped logs came into view, but this place was still where I remembered. A place that does not leave my memory.
“Yes, sit over there. I’ll gather some firewood over here.”
In front of the hastily kindled weak fire, Dennis warmed his hands, then shook his butt and stood up. It seemed like he hadn’t kicked off much snow from his bottom because there was not much snow sticking to it.
Sergeant Dennis left to find firewood deeper in the trench. I gazed blankly at the weak warmth emanating from the fire.
– Crackle. Tap.
Sparks scattered here and there. Because the fire was small, the quantity wasn’t much either. I could hear busy footsteps from somewhere.
“This way! Dig a path here!”
“One, two…!”
“Three…!”
They were our troops. They were moving supplies in the trench, sweating profusely even in this cold weather as they carried heavy supplies. I watched for a long time as they disappeared into the inner trench.
Until they left, until warmth disappeared from their spot, and eventually until their voices faded. That empty space lingered for quite a while….
– Squish.
The sound of footsteps on the snow. I quickly turned my gun towards the source of the noise. The firearm on my shoulder was swiftly shouldered. My aim was steady.
The cold metal, chilled by the frost, felt on my fingers. The trigger had become cold. It took only a few seconds to align sights and aim.
So, if anyone poked their head out….
“Oops… I’ve brought some firewood, Reverend.”
“……”
“Reverend? Why is your gun… oh….”
The moment I recognized it was Sergeant Dennis, I couldn’t lower my gun. Why? Why couldn’t I lower it?
He’s our ally.
…Because I killed.
I, I killed. I killed Helena.
Wasn’t Helena our ally? Why did I leave her at the battalion command post and come out?
What did I do?
“Reverend! Are you okay?”
“Ugh! Huh…!”
Suddenly, I gasped out all at once, having restrained my breath until my face turned bright red. Sergeant Dennis, with a somewhat troubled expression, was shouting something while gripping my rifle.
“Are you alright?”
“…I’m fine.”
“Are you really fine? I almost dropped my heart just now!”
“I’m really fine. I’m sorry.”
“No, well… it can happen.”
Sergeant Dennis casually sat across from me. The spot he had just occupied.
Once he sat down, the fire had already dwindled to a very small size. The dim flame, almost looking like a candle, flickered. I stared at it blankly.
“Huh… honestly, I was half-expecting there might not be any dry wood inside, you know? That… what was it… used to be the battalion command post, right?”
“……”
“I thought everything collapsed back then, but it seems like the dwarves couldn’t wait and fixed it up. It was so cold… honestly, I was a bit startled.”
Sergeant Dennis chatted away, throwing wood into the waning fire and skillfully coaxing it back to life. That action vividly reminds me of old memories.
Private Jeffrey, myself, and Sergeant Dennis too. At that time he was a corporal.
“Phew… it’s done.”
The fire grew larger. He coughed a few times as if he had inhaled some smoke and then brought his hands closer to the warm flames. His hands, which looked cold at a glance, gradually regained warmth.
I did the same. I took off my leather gloves, lined with soft fur inside. My hands were deep red, almost with a hint of blue.
“Reverend, aren’t you getting frostbite? Your hands are simply terrifying.”
Sergeant Dennis looked at my hands with concern. I silently brought my hands to the fire.
A tingling sensation arose, and I soon felt blood flowing back to my hands. In various ways, everything seemed to loosen up.
“……”
Thus, Sergeant Dennis and I silently stared at the fire for a while. I chose not to break the silence, and even the talkative Sergeant Dennis merely glanced at me, cautious not to speak up first.
The flickering fire seemed dreamlike. I tightened the collar of my tattered coat and gazed at the fire’s journey, illuminating the chill of the air.
“…It was at this spot then.”
“……”
Sergeant Dennis broke the silence first. I glanced at him and turned my gaze back to the fire.
– Rattle. Rattle.
The sound of scraping the frozen earthen wall from where a short piece of wood that formed the trench wall was pulled out sliced through the silence. In his hand, he had the head of a broken entrenching tool.
“Ah, found it.”
Then, what Sergeant Dennis dug out of the hard earthen wall was… a very familiar object.
“I hid it together with Jeff. Wow… it’s still in good condition, isn’t this luck?”
In his hand was a flattened, twisted metal canteen. It was a very thin, folding hip flask. I could hear the sloshing sound reaching my ears.
“Ah… it seems it’s still fine. Sniff… it’s a bit surprising that those drunken dwarves didn’t find it….”
Knowing I wouldn’t respond, Sergeant Dennis started chattering again, seemingly unconcerned about waiting for an answer. According to his words, it seemed the dwarves had not discovered the alcohol he had hidden.
“…If the day comes when Jeff and I reclaim this trench again… it will be the drink we share to celebrate our victory.”
“……”
Jeff. Private Jeffrey.
The days a year ago, when the three of us gathered around the fire and took turns sipping alcohol. It was winter then as well, and snow fell heavily, making Private Jeffrey and Corporal Dennis grumble as they cleared the snow, and those memories remain vivid.
“Jeff… that foolish guy… stubbornly insisting he needed to hold his position when I told him to come out…”
Private Jeffrey is not here. He died.
About two months ago, while holding a machine gun to support our retreat against the enemy’s overwhelming offensive, he remained in the trench until it collapsed due to enemy shelling and was abruptly buried alive.
…We could only retrieve his body after a rat had eaten half of him.
“Phew…”
Sergeant Dennis took a swig from the hip flask and exhaled a hot breath. The sharp scent of alcohol faintly prickled my nose.
“I had wanted to drink this with him…”
“……”
“…I’m glad you’re here, Reverend.”
Sergeant Dennis offered me the flask with a bitter smile. I stared at it blankly before reluctantly accepting it at his urging.
“Take a sip. I just want to reminisce.”
True to his word, I carefully tilted the flask. The burning sensation filled my empty stomach, and the strong alcohol began to make me feel dizzy.
I roughly wiped my mouth and handed the flask back to Sergeant Dennis. He hesitated to close the open flask before momentarily gazing off to the side.
“…I’ll share a sip with Jeff as well.”
“……”
“Hey, Jeff. Here’s a sip. Like you said, Christmas is coming soon.”
Sergeant Dennis poured some of the alcohol onto the ground mixed with dirt and snow. The dark brown liquid fell to the ground. Meaninglessly, too pitifully. Mixing with the earth.
“…Damn.”
“……”
“Foolish bastard. That son of a bitch. Damn it… idiot, cowardly bastard. Coward, coward….”
The hip flask in his hand trembled. Too much alcohol had spilled onto the ground, and late in response, Sergeant Dennis hurriedly twisted the cap back on.
“Now… honestly, I don’t know anymore.”
“……”
“They’re all dead. Tucker, that idiot bled to death while having his leg amputated, and Jansen is dead, Jeffrey, Borman, Sergeant Anthony… even Reverend Helena….”
All dead.
They all left like that.
Like the alcohol that fell to the ground. Absorbed into the grains of dirt, now no one would ever drink that alcohol again. So pitifully.
They were wasted like that.
As I continued to stare at the flickering fire, everything began to feel like a dream. Perhaps, I am dreaming now.
“…Reverend, I have a question.”
“…Speak.”
“Those who died letting go of their attachments to life, and… us who foolishly survived….”
He stopped speaking. I could hear him taking in a deep, shaky breath. It appears the alcohol is hitting him.
“…Which one of us is the coward?”
“……”
I couldn’t answer immediately. Gazing at the fire, I merely stared at it….
“……”
I just stared.
That was all. The fire continued to burn without knowing what was inside me.
December 22, 1917. It has already been about four months since Helena died.
The war is almost over. Our victory.
And that year’s winter was unbearably cold.
Cold enough to be overwhelming. Desperately.
