Play Dead

Nowhere to hide. Bodies strewn about everywhere, the sounds of the enemies’ voices grow louder by the second. What can I do?

Hands shaking, I drop the magazine from my Tokarev and snap a full one into place.

I already have blood on me from earlier. Over to the corner. Dropping to my back, I lift the body of a dead Soviet soldier and crawl underneath. He is cold as ice, stiff. I lay perfectly still.

“Scheisse, these devils reek.”

“Russians smell even before they’re dead. Come on.”

“Should we shoot these dogs just to make sure?”

“Save your ammunition, we’ll need it. Come on, we need to get out of this no man’s land before Ivan throws artillery at us. Forwards!”

The insides of my thighs have a warm, damp sensation. I let out the biggest sigh of my life once they are out of earshot and I lay where I am for a few more moments. Time to get out from under this body, finally. I can breathe again, but stay low and grip my Tokarev tightly.

There’s a PPSh on the ground in front of me. Setting my pistol on the ground, I pick it up and pop the drum out. It feels to be just below half full. After some digging, I find another drum, seemingly more than half full. I take the magazine out of my pistol, clear the chamber, replace the magazine, and holster it. I’m carrying the PPSh with the fuller drum loaded. I take a second to pop the extra round from my pistol into the second drum before I stash it away.

My mind will not get over the last thing I understood. If the Germans are mounting another offensive, it would make sense for us to fire artillery here. Right here. Where I am. Now.

Violently I shake my head back and forth, looking for cover. Not there. Not there. This is a **** trap! There.

The best looking bit of this ruin is what looks like the staircase. I get there as fast as my legs can carry me.

My heart leaps when I see the helmet and the uniform and my finger drops to the trigger. I do not pull it. He’s already dead. I drop to my stomach in the furthest back corner and aim my weapon outwards.

I anticipate the guns firing. I wait. The guns do not fire. Hours pass.

He’s looking at me. Past me. He was probably around 20 years old. He doesn’t look like a monster. Just a kid. His eyes terrify me. I can’t take it any more. I crawl over, grab his shoulder, and roll him onto his face.