Foxhole

 If Anne could decide whether to live in her warm house again or to continue shoveling the compacted dirt under what was supposed to be her foxhole, she would gladly have chosen the shovel.

Hell, she thought as she lifted another spade of the chalky soil out of her three foot deep hole, I would have used my hands if I had to. Wiping the sweat off her brow, she looked up from her backbreaking work to see how the others were faring. It was three hours since Violet Company landed on the beaches of Praesidium- or what Charles called Beijing. In those stark minutes, she endured what some would never wish to see again. In the past, they called a operation like this D-day, or something like that. Soldiers running aimlessly forwards as death embraced them with the roar of machine gun fire. Men and women lying on the ground screaming in pain with their guts out on the floor and their limbs crudely severed by artillery. For some miraculous reason, Anne managed to walk unscathed through the beach. Her hands were still shaking when she looked at them, but the rest of her body, including her sanity, stood listless and numb, as if a shot of morphine was injected into her bloodstream. The only thing Anne new was that she was alive, and that she had to dig if she wanted to survive.

The rest of the soldiers were already hidden in their holes, their grey helmets poking out like stumps in the ground. Violet Company was a good batch of soldiers, all battle hardened from previous campaigns. If there was a group of people Anne wanted on her side, it would be them. One of them popped out of their foxhole and ran quickly towards the half- finished foxhole. head low and rifle in hand. The soldier slid down next to her and spoke quickly. Anne recognized her as Sergeant Clara West, "Hey, you better hurry. X.O says there's going to be another attack soon, so they want emplacements to get ready."

She gritted her teeth, "Understood, sergeant. I'll hurry up." she pressed her shovel harder into the earth and brought out the tough soil. It took her three minutes to just push out an inch, and now they wanted everyone tucked in. Sergeant Clara realized that the private wasn't going to make it in time, "Here, let me help you." she dropped her rifle and unloaded the pack on her back. Taking out a shovel, she began to dig with Anne, clearing out more space.

"Thank you, Sergeant." Anne said tiredly as she lifted another pile of dirt out of the hole.

Sergeant Clara nodded, "I don't want any of my soldiers dead. We lost enough on the beaches." She jumped into the hole and dug further in, "So, what brings you to Violet Company, private?"

"What do you mean, Sergea-"
"Just call me Clara. I don't like all this babble about authority."

Anne cleared her throat apologetically, "What do you mean, Clara?"

Clara shrugged, "You know, why did you join the Legion? Family force you to? Doing your duty to the Empire?"

"Well, no," Anne pursed her lips and she pulled a large rock out of the dirt and picked it up, "I had a friend in the Legion. When things got rough, he would be there to take care of me. Best man you could ever meet."

With a smirk, Clara glanced at her, "You guys hook up?"

"What? No, he had a wife and a kid already. We were just close friends."

"Aw where's the fun in that? Continue."

"So one time, I got into a pickle in Requiem. Got a couple of mercenaries on my back for punching one of their faces in. So my friend comes in, finishes the job, and comes back home. Turns out the mercs find his place and kill his family." Anne paused, "So I decided to sacrifice myself in their name. Joined Violet, decided to do my job and die on the beach. Guess I'm unlucky, huh?"

Clara didn't say anything as she dug, contemplating the story she just heard. With a tsk, she patted Anne's back and muttered, "Well, you should have joined another company, private, because we take care of our own here. You're not going to come back home in a wooden box, I'll give you that."

Anne looked to her commander and nodded, "Thank you, Clara."

She nodded and shoveled one last time, "There. That should be deep enough. Why not you get in there and-"

They felt the explosion before they heard it. A ripple in the air, the split second flare of heat. In a matter of seconds, a cloud of dirt and fire rose like a column into the sky. Anne flinched and dropped her shovel. Clara was less fazed, grabbing her gun, "Everybody! Get down and-" Another explosion- this one closer, launched her into the foxhole with a bang. The Sergeant fell and didn't get back up. Anne, still up and conscious, looked around with a face of fear. There was no chance of firing back at the artillery, and running wasn't an option. She looked at her superior in the hole and made a split second decision. Closing her eyes, she waited as the artillery continued, hammering away at them until her ears rang constantly. Please, she prayed, Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes. Just a few...more...

Clara woke up with a heavy quilt on her stomach.

Groaning slightly, she tried to move her hand to touch her aching head, but the cloth kept her from moving. Annoyed, she pushed it off and raised her hand. She tried to recollect what happened. There was artillery, the attack. Bolting up, she analyzed the situation. Craters pitted the ground around her foxhole, blackened and starburst from the explosions that created them. Pieces of fragmentation were littered around everywhere, embedding themselves into the ground. She patted down her body to make sure that there were no holes in her. To her relief, there was nothing wrong. Sighing, she wiped her head in respite and chuckled. That was until she saw Anne.

The private was dead for a while. She was sprawled where Clara pushed her, her front facing side clean of any injury. Anne's eyes were clenched closed with anticipation, as if she braced for what was coming. Clara knew that her other side would be horribly torn by the thousands of fragments the artillery sent around. Closing her eyes, she realized what Anne had done for her. She shielded her from the explosions, making sure that she was unharmed. A small bubble of emotion burst in Clara's throat, and she choked back a sob. She had lost soldiers before, but none were so selfless to throw themselves in front of an explosion to save a comrade. With a solemn look on her face, Clara took the lifeless hand of Anne and whispered, "I'll make sure they won't send you home in a wooden box, alright Private?" she held on in silence as she watched the world come to life around her.