Crimson

I wiped away the condensation on my goggles for about the thousandth time, annoyed at the fact my breath kept fogging them up. It was the winter of 1943, the remains of the sixth army were trapped inside the city of Stalingrad with no hope of relief from allied forces. We were all ordered to stand fast "to the last soldier and the last bullet." Although this wasn't the best choice it was the only one we had at the time with our forces being starved for ammo and rations. So we did what we could and prepared for the storm to come.

I bolted my rifle and counted my rounds. I only had 17 rounds remaining, the skirmish earlier that day left me without much ammo. I leaned up against the wall and took a deep breath, and listened. The sound of boots crunching on snow and shouts were heard faintly amidst the howling wind. I looked at my fellow brothers-in-arms and knew that any one of these young men could be taken by a bullet in the next few minutes. They looked back with the same stare, we were all condemned men awaiting the death sentence. I never knew how close the enemy was until that first shot pierced the wall next to me, after that chaos ensued.

Surviving as a soldier was partly luck and partly skill, I seemed to have both of those but everyone eventually has to bite the bullet. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, the wrong place being in the way of a bullet and the wrong time being as it flew through the air that I was currently also inhabiting. I stumbled and fell, putting my rifle out as I fell. I landed on my stomach with my rifle lodged under me, thankfully it didn't misfire but that wasn't the most concerning issue at the moment. I attempted to roll onto my side to see how bad it was, but then the room exploded and everything went black.

I awoke among a pile of rubble, the remains of the wall I was laying next to now reduced to nothing. I attempted to move but gasped as I realized the bullet I took earlier had punctured my lung. I gasped and clutched at the hole in my chest, attempting to block the hole to relieve my lungs. I begun to cough up blood, breathing was getting more unbearable. I rolled about writhing in agony and sorrow, but I was quickly relieved of my torment when the enemy found me.