How did I get into this? That was the main thought going through Ash's mind.
Compared with this, the regular routing of hell, rest, prep, hell seemed
placid. Now he was stuck between hell and death. He felt like cursing whoever
had said to go 'over the top', but he knew nobody had control here, nobody
could have control here. He was part of the group that went over the top,
most of whom were either dead, or missing. He was amazed he still lived,
and that he was in one piece. Compared with him, Mac, the companies Lewis
Gunner, was in a grave state. The Lewis gun had run out of bullets, which
ment that Mac had to go with everyone else. The worst part was that he was
still alive. The mashine gun post that took out over half the attackers
had got him all right, but being what he was he lived, in agoney. And there
was nothing Ash could do. Nothing. Thinking about it, Ash's situation wasn't
that good either: He had got up to the post, but was pinned at a blind spot,
effectivly trapped. He dared not move untill now, incase he made a noise,
which was unlikley considering the gunfire that cracked somewhere every
so oftern. Mac was three feet away, and could only exchange looks with Ash.
Macks herd instincts from his waterbeast ansesters made him accept and understand
his pain so Ash wouldn't be seen by being called to, and in turn Ash's canine
of loyalty ment tha othough he could do nothing to help, he kept his eyes
locked with Macs. It was the pain that eventually broke this. Grunting with
a wave of pain, Mac gave his life away. The sudden relisation that the crew
of the post had live wounded put them in action.
They shot him up. They didn't even bother to risk one of theirs to capure
him. This at least broke Ash's thinking. Reaching inside his pockets, hands
trembling with anger, he decided to throw caution into the wind and get
even, even if it cost his life, he removed two hand grenades. Crouching
down, he placed them against the walls of the gun post, and pulled the pin.
Picking some mud as fast as he could, which was mud and blood soaked, he
threw the mud into the viewhole of the post, and ran as fast as he could
to his home trench.
He made it past what was left of Mac, and then a little over half way to
the front line when they finally opened up. Being hit was not like he imagined
it to be. His legs gave way forceable, making his body to jerk forward,
then down. It was this that stunned him, not so much the fact that he has
been shot squarly in the hamstring. Surprisingly the fire stopped as he
went down, and apart from the now familier sound of high explosives being
set off, all he saw before he blacked out the dry, deadly, hail aroudn him.
He woke on the way to the back lines in agoney, being escorted by two medics,
one a Horse, the other a Fox. Either the Fox hadne t time to change, or
his tail was too large to fit in his uniform, but his tail was hidden. Once
out of morter range the Fox took charge in carring Ash, and the Horse returned
back the way they came from.
"Wha...?" Was all he could spurt out in pain.
It was all the fox needed to understand. "We got you out the useual way,
the red cross waving. Not a lots happened. The attack failed, as useual.
About 17 others made it back." Looking at the injury, the Fox changed subject.
"Here, close your eyes, I'll try to stop the bleeding." He said as he inspected
the wound.
Ash did as he was told, and stars exploded in his darkness in pain. Then
the pain was gone. Compleatly. Opening his eyes, the bleeding had stopped
compleatly, and some cloth was in place.
"It comes with pratice." Came the explanation, as Ash was moved to the hospital
ward.