Short Story Collection

Expendable

Every drop felt like an icicle, piercing through his clothes and freezing his skin. Gerald gritted his teeth as the rain grew more robust, his breaths coming out in foggy puffs in front of him. His shoulders groaned in frustration, and his muscles screamed in protest as he carried the injured soldier away from the battle. Blood dripped into his face from the man's upper thigh wound, and Gerald's feet sunk into the muddy ground. The cold seeps further into his skin. Suddenly, a loud boom went off, and the earth shook as dirt flew into the air, sending Gerald tumbling into the mud.

'Oh shit!' He said. Feeling the full impact as the injured soldier slammed right into his back.

His face dropped into the mud, fingers slipping as they lost their grip. His back was in complete agony as the solder became a rag doll. His body drove the total weight of medical supplies further into his back. Gerald had to have the worst job on the battlefield... being a combat medic! Oh sure, when he had first applied for the Army Medical Corps, it had seemed honourable—being known as Private Gerald McDonald and sacrificing his life to save his fellow soldiers. At the same time, the enemy rained hell upon him. What a load of bullshit that was!

'Up you get Private McDonald!' Captain Gordon yelled at him, appearing from the battle.

'I could use some help here, sir!' Gerald replied. His nostrils flared, and his breathing started to speed up in annoyance.

'This is your job, Private, so do it! I have more pressing matters!'

Gerald managed to lift his face out of the mud to see Captain Gordon running back to the safety of the trenches.

'More pressing matters, my arse!' Gerald muttered.

Captain Gordon had only been stationed at Amiens for one month, and he already acted like a self-entitled idiot. Gerald had been in France for nearly a whole year and had been at Amiens longer than most. But that didn't matter in the military world of rank. If you were the lowest, then that was it.

Lifting one hand, Gerald slowly managed to grip one of the soldier's legs and sling it back over his shoulder. He was trying to fight the numbness of cold that the mud had done to his fingers. Clenching his other hand into a fist, he groaned as he used what remaining strength he had left to push himself out of the mud. Black corners crept in at the edges of his vision, surroundings wobbling as a burning sting of metal ripped into his elbow.

'OH HELL!' He screamed in pain as the bullet left its mark.

Looking down, his elbow had a gaping hole of ragged flesh in it, bright red as blood streamed from it. This is what happened to men like him! They offered up their bloody lives for service and got treated as expendable! No recognition, no valiant medals unless they did something extraordinary. Gerald deserved better than this suicide attempt of a job!

Trying to ignore the pain blazing through his arm. Gerald tried to focus on keeping his good arm on holding the soldier up as he fought to stand.

'Private McDonald, just stay where you are; I'm coming to assist!'

Turning his head, he saw another combat medic running to him. He couldn't remember the new soldier's name, but he was glad to see him now. With darkness creeping into his vision again, Gerald needed help urgently.

But as the combat medic took his next forwards, everything exploded, and Gerald went falling again as the medic was blown into pieces.