Stories for the void

War - Character Study

\\Trigger Warning: Suicidal behaviours, Gunshot, War, Sharpnel, Death, and Gore (minor).//

(A/N: This is a character study I want to publish because I find it really, really good for an upcoming book I'm writing. Characters are credit of my friends from last year, I just wrote them into this short story. I might delete later because I haven't actually checked with my friends on wether they're okay with this, hopefully they are-
Anyway, Enjoy!)

The war had waged on for eight months. Supplies were running low and men were getting tired. The cheery spirit they'd all carried across seas with them had faded into some careless demeanour where nothing mattered but life among the gunshots. Even nights were spent with busy and loud gunfire. No quiet. No soft noises or careless whispers, all yelling and screaming and gunshots. Shrapnel. Grenades. Each of them haunted a good soldiers dreams.

And if they didn't? Well, that soldier was a miracle among men.

Captain James was put in charge of some... eagerly hopeful boys. Having been hopeful, once upon a time, he immediately warned the boys they weren't about to come out unscarred. Only one of them, James' right hand man, had been through proper military school training. 'Thaddeus' was everything someone wished for in a right hand man- strict, willing, and alive.

James' two immediate favourites, Chad and Charlie, were the closest to polar opposites of Thaddeus. Chad had little to no training and signed up for the hell of it, to distract from his alcohol addiction. This lead to a stern word with him from James about the importance of sobriety during this war.

Charlie was snarky, quick, and scrawny. A good mixture of Chad and Thaddeus- enough to balance Thaddeus' posh snark out and enough to keep Chad grounded during his worse moments. After a few weeks on the battlefield, they'd settled into a familiar pattern of separating war from their conversations.

The war wasn't like others. Other wars were the world was against the world, where it was life or death, where hopeful boys turned into stone cold men, but this wasn't. Something about it made them so scared, so much more than any movie or picture could do. Something about it made them shake, quiver, and lay awake at night for the sake of not being able to shake the feeling of a sniper trained on them.

It was so much. James couldn't even remember when he hadn't been in war, let alone the last time he'd had a group of men this devoted and hard working that stayed alive.

And then Chad was found sleeping at his post. Sleeping, and drunk.

"Dammit," Thaddeus' voice was barely a whisper to Chad as he pulled him along the dry ground moulded into footprints and dropped guns. "You couldn't have just swapped out? Stayed sober? Chad, really."

Chad just grunted in response, trying to shake Thaddeus' rough hands off of his arm. Thaddeus' grip only tightened with his movements, his eyes pricked with tears that he blinked forcefully back. He was the right hand man to the Captain, he really couldn't afford to breakdown in front of a soldier. Even one he'd managed to be so very open with to this point.

"Stop doing this to me," Thaddeus said, holding Chad so tight he might've bruised him. "Stop making me have to say goodbye to you, Chad, this is the fifth time this week that you've been called for something that might result in death."

"Cap'n can't kill me," Chad mumbled, steadying his feet as he swayed, a pounding headache still bashing in his skull from the night before. "'m his favourite."

Miguel, an eager private that Thaddeus had scored enough time from to get him to run for the Captain to proceed with the death penalty, arrived shortly after this sentence. Chad had always despised Miguel, from the day they'd arrived at the war until now, Chad did not like Miguel.