It was night in France. The moon was shining dimly in the air, and stars twinkled merrily, their light reflecting off the puddles of water laying on the ground from the recent rain. The screams of the wounded, left behind after futile charges, resounded through the air, being overshadowed by the constant rat-tat-tat-tat of machine guns and the occasional artillery shell. I took a look out of the trench, before quickly ducking back in. Just in time too: An enemy machine gun chittered, and wood I was just hiding behind was perforated by the rounds. I tightened my grip on my Gewehr 98, the standard issue service rifle of the German Empire as I walked towards another sector of the trench lines. Around me, soldiers either slept or ate, grateful of the small reprieve from the constant British artillery barrage.

I myself grabbed my canteen and took a sip, having already eaten just a couple of hours earlier. After fifteen minutes of walking, I arrived in my new sector. This sector was mostly manned by soldiers from the 6. Armee and was one of the most well defended areas in the Hindenburg line.

"Ah, Heinkel! Sind Sie der Kommandant der uns versprochenen Verstärkungen?" One of the soldiers addressed me, seeing my insignia ranking me as a captain. I shook my head. No, I wasn't the commander of their promised reinforcements. "Nein, es tut mir leid. Ich wurde von Oberst Zeitbereich diesem Sektor zugeteilt. Wie kann ich helfen?" The man pointed towards the back of the trenches, where a couple of soldiers were trying (and failing) to set up a MG08. "Bitte helfen Sie ihnen beim Einrichten dieses Maschinengewehrs, es wäre eine große Hilfe in diesem Teil des Sektors, wenn wir angegriffen werden." I nodded, and after a small exchange of food for some cigarettes, began to move towards the group setting up the machine gun.

Unfortunately, whatever passed for God in this forsaken world had decided to make this day hell. The whistle could be heard almost everywhere in the field, as some of us saw the British soldiers climbing out of their trenches. Behind me, the recently set up MG began to chatter, sending rounds downrange into the mass of British soldiers. I jumped into the trench as artillery began to bombard MG positions, and quickly laid down my weapon on one of the improvised stands placed in the sandbags. A volley of fire from British rifles had managed to hit one of the soldiers in the trench line, his body collapsing like a doll with its strings cut. An artillery shell landed in the trench, killing at least twenty soldiers and wounding a dozen more. I aimed my weapon, and fired the five rounds in the magazine. From what I managed to see, I at the very least had managed to hit one of the charging soldiers.

Some eight months ago, I would have been appealed at being somewhat casual with taking a human life, but life in the trenches is hard. You either fight and kill, or you will be killed, it was as simple as that. I reloaded the rifle, and continued with shooting. "Granate raus!" A Stielhandgranate made a graceful arc in the air, landing amongst some of the fastest British soldiers. They were quickly blown to bits by the detonating grenade, and some shrapnel had managed to hit some men around it.

"Guter Wurf, Gefreiter!" The corporal, wearing a standard issue uniform with a Iron Cross on it, just nodded while reloading his rifle. We continued firing, covering the medics who were dragging the wounded back towards the secondary defense line.

An shell landed before us, but didn't explode. It seemed was a dud. Pfew...Otherwise we would be done for! We continued firing, before smelling something weird...What was hay doing on the battlefield...Gas! I quickly shouted it to the corporal with who I was fighting, before quickly grabbing my gasmask and affixing it to my face. It seemed that the corporal had chosen to fire his rifle instead of saving his life, so I patted him on the shoulder. "Setzen Sie Ihre Gasmaske auf!" Now that I saw his face, he looked somewhat familiar...A small toothbrush mustache, an Iron Cross...Adolf Hitler?! That would be one of the most scary moments in my life. Being in the presence of one of the most infamous men in history...I eyed the British troops, now slowly advancing with gasmasks. Right. First things first.

"Gefreiter, Fokus!" With a shake of his head, he grabbed his gasmask and began to put it on, while I began to run towards the machine gun. The original crew was long dead, having been exposed to the concentrated fire of the British infantry, so I could freely use it. Hitler was done with his gasmask, and was running towards the secondary defensive line, saluting me as he ran away. Sweeping the machine gun left and right, I began to literally mow down the enemy soldiers, and hopefully causing the rest of the British to retreat or at the very least halt the offensive.

It seemed that they had at least began to take cover in the shell craters, leaving me free to plant some explosives in the trench. Since I wasn't a sapper, I just laid them near my position, with a primitive pressure plate serving as a makeshift detonator. Being the last German soldier in a fifty meter radius, I began to get out of there. Luck was on my side: The British hadn't noticed me laying the explosives and me retreating, and were slowly moving forward. I didn't even need to look to know what happened next. Sitting in a trench some eighty meters away from the one I was in first, I looked at the small cloud of dirt and gore that was thrown up with cold indifference. As I said before, it was kill or be killed in the trenches. It seemed that Hitler was insisting on talking with me, seeing as he was waving for me to come to him. "Wat ist das?" He saluted me, and gave me all of his cigarettes. "Danke, dass du mich auf das Gas aufmerksam gemacht hast. Es wird nicht nochmal passieren!" It seemed he was just relieved to know that someone had his back. Then, everything went to shit: A small whistle could be heard, before a explosion caused me to black out.

After what seemed like an eternity, I woke up in a hospital. After requesting a newspaper, I noted the datum...It was 11 september, 1918, one day after the end of World War One. "Shit."

Another new story. I know I should be updating, but I just have no inspiration for new chapters for fanfics like Magic Und Panzer, Red Dawn, Naval Power and Rage of the Reich, but this idea just popped into my head and I thought: Why not? As you may have noticed, I have used Google translate for the German bits, so advice is appreciated!

Translations:

Ah, Heinkel! Are you the commander of the reinforcements promised to us?

No, I'm sorry. I was assigned by Colonel Zeitbereich to this sector. How can I help?

Please help them set up this machine gun, it would be a great help in this part of the sector if we are attacked.

Grenade out!

Good throw, corporal!

Put on your gasmask!

Corporal, focus!

What is it?

Thank you for bringing my attention to the gas. It will not happen again!

Until next time,

A Death Trooper.