Just a Boy

He was no more than a boy.

He had hardly begun to live and yet here he was so close to the presence of death. He had been graciously appointed to the position of Captain in his regime. He was not twenty-three years old and Captain in a noble army. He supposed it was an honor. Not all honors were good after all.

xxxxx

As he stood next to the old farmer a boy, no older than seventeen, came sprinting down the muddy path. The boy pleaded with the farmer. The boy pleaded his father to not sell their horse. He needed the horse for himself very desperately. He assured the boy he would take care of the horse to the best of his abilities and paid the farmer. That was all the money he had.

xxxxx

He kept a cheery disposition despite knowing he was dying on the inside. He was in Germany, safe at their camp. Everywhere he looked he saw familiar faces. Faces he had seen grow up alongside him. He remembered walking to the schoolhouse with them. He remembered playing games with them. These were family. And yet nothing he could do could stop the inevitable.

xxxxx

They had received news as to what their next move was to be. A German camp was settled about one hundred miles west of them. The assignment they received: ambush. They were to perform a cavalry charge on an unsuspecting German camp in Germany. You didn't need to be well trained in combat to know there were only to possible outcomes to this task.

xxxxx

They were getting ready for a practice charge. He and the General, friends since their youth, were in the front. Beside them the other three Captains. Behind those five were 180 men on 180 horses. At the end of the practice field was a single ring. The Captains and the General, like the boys they used to be, made a game amongst each other with the practice charge. After all, all the men wanted to prove that their horse was the fastest of the lot.

The horses were growing impatient. Their hooves repeatedly hit the ground in anticipation. The General let out the first order and 180 swords were unsheathed and raised in the air. He turned and wished those around him good luck. Then came the mighty yell to charge.

The cavalry took off like bullets. All that could be heard was the pounding of hooves on the soil below. He and the General were leading. As they approached to ring his horse seemed to sense they were near. The horse, with newfound energy, lunged forward and took the lead. The horse reached the ring first. He smiled at their victory but remained humble, congratulating his General. He gave the horse an affectionate pat on the neck.

xxxxx

The charge would be real this time. Their entire regime was placed quietly just outside of the unsuspecting German camp. They all waited in the tall grass. Several of their scouts were out to make sure they perimeter was clear and the Germans remained oblivious to the upcoming attack.

The scouts returned. Everything was clear. The General gave orders to prepare. He leaned down and whispered words of encouragement to the horse. Whether they were for the horse of for himself he would never know.

The General gave the first order. They all raised their bayonet rifles. He turned, just as he had before, and wished those near him good luck. Then came the order to charge.

Heart pounding. Blood ringing in his ears. Adrenaline rushing through his veins. Everything almost distorted. Mind racing. Muscles stiff. Chest tight. Throat dry. Wind hitting his face. Eyes watering.

They charged the German camp. Everywhere around him he could see German soldiers jumping out of their tents to grab their rifles only to be shot in the head or bayonetted in the chest. Dozens of Germans lay dead in their own camp. He relaxed.

But it was not over. The Germans were not as unprepared as believed. Those who could escape from their tents alive rushed toward the forest. The same forest they were charging at.

He heard a new noise join the sound of the hooves, the guns, and the screams. He raised his head. Machine guns. Though they were a new invention he knew exactly what they did. His body felt numb as fear gripped his entire being.

He felt like he was nine years old again. Innocent. Helpless. Everything just stopped. Time. His mind. And his heart as bullets ripped through his chest. The horse continued running into the safety of the forest, his rider remaining at the edge; dead.

xxxxx

His body would be returned home. His family would grieve and bury him. His tombstone would mention his bravery. But no one would remember him. None of his fellow soldiers would remember his name. Soon his own family would forget little details about him. As new generations were born, his name would soon be lost to even his own family. His name would never continue in history. He was just another boy lost to war.

AN: Um, hey guys! …So I'm not dead. Things have been…rough, but they seem to have finally calmed down.

This isn't my normal story, as anyone who has read what I post would know, but we had an assignment in English class to write a short story based off of a WWI and this was the result.

Hope you enjoy and tell me what you think!