Finding Courage

Flash fiction about 3 men in a foxhole, and a test of courage.

The grenade that dropped in front of us in the foxhole seemed almost insignificant on top of the rain of gunfire and hail of exploded bits of metal.  The hole we jumped into was half filled with mud and water from the pouring rain the last night, and it had sandbags around the edges to reinforce its protection. My boots had long since been drenched with cold, filthy water.  I didn’t know who the other soldiers were, but they were my allies and so we sat in silence, all staring  at the ticking time bomb in front of us. We had about 3 seconds until the thing blew us all to smithereens.

That man over there is already badly injured; man his leg is bleeding heavily... No way could he jump out of here in time. How could we all get out of here alive? Little guy over there looks like he’s s**t his pants, no way he’s moving.

3…

One man had already jumped from the hole and gotten caught in crossfire. His body lay limp on the edge where the sandbags lay. No way do I want to end up like him…It was loud all around us from other grenades exploding, men shouting, crying for help, and guns being fired.

 

 

I remembered a moment when my father was sick; he was lying in his bed all fluffed up in-between pillows and blankets, and he looked frail in comparison to the volume. I noticed his hand was cold when he reached out to me, and I clasped it in mine as I sat by the bed.

“I’m not afraid to die, son. I know where I’m going, and God will take care of me…the pain will be gone soon.” He coughed for a moment.

“I’ll be off to the front in a few weeks. They’re sending us there on Thursday.”

He looked me in the eyes, but I was unsure of what he was thinking.

“Then you’ll be needing these more than me.” He handed me his box of cigarettes which had been on his bedside table.

I didn’t want them. It was obvious these were the cause of his illness, but I took it from him anyways and he smiled weakly.

“I’m proud of you, son. You fight for our country and your family will always be proud of you.”

 

I could feel the cigarettes in my pocket, that very same pack of cigarettes, which always had two sides to them it seemed. They had killed my father, but ultimately he saw them as good luck. Maybe he just hadn’t realized…

2…

The man across from me was babbling, but I couldn’t have, wouldn’t have heard him.

 

Things are never as they seem are they?

Would my father be proud of me now, cowering in a ditch waiting to die? He was never afraid of death….perhaps he was right, and God will greet me as well.

1…

I knew what I had to do then.

I grabbed a sandbag that fell  next to me and tucked it into my chest, lunging toward the grenade as if it were a raging fire and I carried the bucket of water. The smaller man caught my eyes with a look of pure confusion.

Please let us live….

0.

Suddenly my ears were deafened.  The force of the explosion threw me from where I had landed on top of the grenade. I flew through the air. My ears started ringing. Sand flew everywhere. What the hell is happening?! I felt nothing but confusion. Landing back in the mud. Splash. Thud. Pain in my chest. Left knee on fire.

 

I looked down after righting myself, but nothing on my chest was bleeding. My knee must have been hit by shrapnel, and was soaked with crimson…nothing that couldn’t be fixed though.

I was alive, and I looked up to see the other two men were staring at me, wide eyed, and the injured man looked like he was crying. We sat in silence since our ears were ringing from the explosion anyways.

Holy f*****g s**t. We’re alive!

I pulled a cigarette from the same package my father had handed me just before he died, placed it between my lips, and savored life. 

Author's Note

If you read, please try to leave a review. I will always review a piece of yours in return. Thanks!