War (Cashton)

one.

Ashton was sat in the light truck, packed tight with countless other men, as it rattled through the countryside. Trees and grass the only thing to be seen for miles either side of the dirt road they had been driving on for what felt like days now. An itch on Ashton's uniform clad back kept lingering in his mind, becoming more and more prominent the more he tried to get it off his mind. There was virtually no room to move, no way he could reach back for a quick scratch.

None of the men knew where they were headed, nor really how many of them had been packed into the small space. At first it had just been men from Ashton's camp, but as the trucks rattled along the countryside they had stopped a few times to pick up more men to squeeze into the already tight space. There was barely an inch of space between each man, all leaning on one another for support, literally.

The man next to Ashton, who had a much paler complexion to himself and a long fringe covering much of his forehead, had spent almost the entirety of the journey to god-knows-where dozing off on Ashton's shoulder. Looking at him, Ashton was confused as to why they had let the boy keep his fringe, while almost all of the other men had their cut short. Normally Ashton would push the stranger off of himself in heartbeat, but as they had all been sitting in the truck for two days with absolutely no clue of their direction, destination or location, he found myself unable to care.

They all needed some kind of comfort.

If one were to look up, they would be able to catch a few glimpses of the sky outside the truck through a few holes in the canvas material surrounding the men. Fragments of a bright blue sky outside gave Ashton some sense of comfort and grounding, letting him know it was daytime and they were thankfully safe from the rainstorms they'd been hit with a few days prior at camp. When they had been ordered, seemingly out of nowhere, to pack everything up and that they had thirty minutes to get our asses into the military trucks, nobody thought  much of it. At least, Ashton didn't. He didn't have time to think or to ask why they were moving or where they were headed.

Ashton just followed orders, it wasn't that uncommon they had to move. The front was always on the move, laying out some sort of trap for others to fall into. If Ashton was honest, he didn't really understand what they were in Vietnam or why their issues involved American troops. He knew it was something about resisting their politics, but he also knew he had no choice but to be there. It was this or prison if he didn't abide by the rules.

But, that was two days ago. For two days the men had been moving, and even though it didn't raise any alarms at first it sure did after absolute silence from their seniors. Part of Ashton questioned if their seniors even knew where the group was headed. All the men had received was parcels of food and water that was thrown into the back of the trucks alongside demands to keep quiet.

As more time passed and no words came, Ashton could feel himself growing increasingly more worried. Scared, even. They were both emotions he had tried to control since he'd arrived in Vietnam. Fear would only get you killed in a place like that.

"Hey blondie, what's your name?" Ashton asked the kid sitting next to him, deciding that if he was going to be closer than comfortable with all the men around him, he might as well know their names.

"Michael Clifford," the blonde boy answered, turning his head slightly to stare right at Ashton. He looked absolutely exhausted. "You?"

"Ashton Irwin," Ashton responded with a curt nod and tight smile. Taking in the look of the boy, Michael, sitting next to him anyone could tell he was a newbie by his still fresh face. "How long have you been here?"

"Just over two weeks," Michael muttered back in reply.

"Well damn, welcome to what I call hell," Ashton raised his eyebrows and let out a long breath as the boy suddenly looked petrified. "I'm kidding, sort of."