Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The killing fields ❯ Chapter 1

The Killing Fields

 

 

As Major Evans walked along the cobble stone streets he silently looked at the dark gray sky over London Wishing he could see her for one last time. But he knew he couldn't he was shipping out today and he dreaded going back. Back to the mud and constant shelling back to the cries of the wounded and dieing. Back to the killing fields. Even though the major was a professional soldier he had despised any battlefield more than Flanders. The place was absolutely dreadful. Major Evans arrived at the train station and boarded a train bound to Portsmouth. Most of the men on the train were dressed in khaki uniforms there were hardly any civilians. Most of the trains were reserved only for the soldiers. As usual a private or a lower ranking officer would give up his seat and silently salute the Major. Evans would salute back and take his seat. He decided to get some sleep. He knew sleep was almost impossible where he was going. And he knew this all to well. Major Evans was a veteran of Gallipoli, and the Somme. He had seen a little bit of Flanders before he was wounded and taken off the line. He didn't want to think of the pain he had suffered from that wound. A ricochet off a rock had hit him in the knee. It had taken him two months to recover and learn to walk again. Every time he put his foot down a knew wave of pain would engulf him beyond human endurance and he would fall. But eventually he did it and here he was ready to face the withering machinegun fire once again. Evans just couldn't understand why they were sending him back. He was still on pain medication for his wound. And he could barely sprint without the pain getting to him. The hospital though. He forced that thought away he didn't want to think of the wounded the horribly disfigured who would certainly never recover. Some of them he had known. Private Maxwell both legs blown off and three fingers missing. He wore a eye patch over his left eye. He had been shipped back a week before Evans was wounded. Maxwell was lucky in some ways he would never see the terrible face of battle again. Evans closed his eyes and went to sleep.