This one is...plain crap.
***


“How could you?”

The words rang around the small room as the Corporal stared accusingly at the man sitting opposite him. The man shifted uncomfortably, trying to maintain a blank, unconcerned gaze.

It didn’t seem to be working. The Corporal’s eyes sparkled with emotion – what was it, despair? Betrayal? – as he jumped up and jabbed a finger into the man’s chest.

“All these years we’ve been together, all the battles we fought, all the ups and downs we’ve been through…” the Corporal’s voice cracked and he looked away. “How could you?” he repeated in a small voice.

The man looked down, ashen-faced. The Corporal was right. How could he? The Corporal had trusted him and he had manipulated his trust. That wasn’t the actions of an honorable man. But he had to do it, hadn’t he? To survive. He had to.

As the man battled with his inner conscience, the Corporal turned back and walked over to him. Before anyone saw, he deftly slipped his hand into the man’s pocket and stole a gleaming, metal object. He swiftly hid it in his paratrooper jacket before anyone noticed.

“Take him away!” the man said suddenly and two guards appeared. They grabbed the Corporal’s arms and dragged him off before he could utter a word of protest.

But as he was dragged away, the man saw something in his eyes. And this time, there was no mistaking what it was.

Triumph.

***

The Corporal slammed his fist onto the floor in frustration. How could this be possible? He and the man – he refused to call him by his name anymore – had made a pact never to be captured. And looked what had happened now! Betrayed by him, betrayed by his best friend, betrayed by the man he once knew and liked. Preposterous! Impossible! Ridiculous!

And yet…

The Corporal sat down and buried his face in his hands. Never, never in a million years did he expect this to happen. He gripped the object he had stolen from the man tightly. This would not go unheeded.

A sudden, overwhelming sense of fatigue came over him and he lay down on his side, on the hard bed they had provided. At least I still have a bed, he thought as his mind drifted.

***

It seemed an eternity ago when they had been trapped in that little outpost. They had been the best of friends then, joking and laughing with each other, huddling together when the shells came. Although there had only been twelve men, they had held out well. Until they lost contact with the main division and were surrounded by the Krauts, anyway.

Suddenly the shelling had intensified; the skirmishes had become more frequent. Yet still they had held out, driven by sheer desperation and determination. And the Corporal and that…man had made their pact to remain steadfast friends, to never be captured, and to sacrifice their lives rather than surrender. And, as the Corporal thought, they always would. Until that one day.

That day, the Germans had launched a furious, full-scale attack, smashing through their defenses like a tidal wave. They had been anything but overwhelmed. Amidst the massive onslaught, the Corporal and the man had run, run as far as they could, attempting to live and fight another day.

But this was not to be. They had found a safe, secure hiding place – a dark cave in a small patch of trees. The man had left, promising to find help. Some help he had brought back. He had been gone for a long time when the Corporal was just about to go out and search for him. Suddenly, a torch had been shone into his eyes and he had fallen back, hands blocking his face. Two hands had roughly pulled him out. He could hear voices in German, speaking quickly. What was going on?

Suddenly there had been a voice speaking to him, a voice the Corporal knew rather well. His heart lifted, then sank again.

“Corp! Corp, can you hear me?” it was him, the man. But what was he doing with – if the Corporal was not mistaken – Krauts?

The man was speaking again. “Corp, these guys are here to help us get out of here. We have to do what they want us to do, right? Good. Leave your gun behind. It’ll slow us down.”

And what had the Corporal done? Surely he must have noticed there was something fishy about the request. But like a blind fool, absolutely sure the man would never do anything to harm him, the Corporal had followed willingly, his gun and only line of defense left in the hole. They had been roughly bundled into the back of a vehicle. The ride went on for hours…just as the Corporal began to think they would never get there, the vehicle had stopped. He had heard voices up front, talking, chatting in German. German. There it was again. Why would helpers of Allied forces be talking in German? The Corporal had had a sinking feeling as a stony, silent face appeared at the back of the truck and barked in English, “Get down. Now!”

Quickly they had jumped down, only to be searched by the stony-faced man. As he was patted down the Corporal looked at the man worriedly. But what worried him more was that the man did not look at him, choosing instead to avoid his gaze.

They were herded into a small, nearby shack, where the Kraut – if that was what he was – started to fire rapid questions in German at them. The man replied equally quickly, making the Corporal glance at him in amazement. How did the man speak so fluently in a language he had once said he never spoke?

The Kraut now turned to the young soldier. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he had said, grinning cruelly. “Thanks to this young man here – “the Corporal watched in wide-eyed amazement as he gestured to the man (who was currently finding the floor rather interesting). “I have caught yet another soldier for my yet to be complete collection.” The Corporal grimaced at the way he thought of Allied soldiers as collectable toys. As if sensing this, the Kraut threw back his head and laughed, a booming, loud, laugh that was full of malice, making the Corporal cringe.

He stopped suddenly and shoved his face close to the Corporal’s. “Where are you from, kiddo?” he asked, adopting a fake, exaggerated American accent that made the Corporal wince. Tight-lipped, he refused to reply.

The Kraut smiled, displaying a mouth full of yellow, crooked teeth. “Aha! A silent one, eh? What an excellent addition! Those who are brought in are usually too shaken by their friends’ betrayal to keep silent.”

At the moment, the Corporal really wanted to do that, to talk and blab all he could. But he knew it wouldn’t do anything to help his situation. He had to bloody the Kraut’s nose as much as he could before he went down.

Without warning he struck, his fist smashing into the Kraut’s face and snapping his nose. The Kraut howled in agony as he deftly dodged the other guards and made for the door. He had barely taken three steps outside when a football tackle brought him to the ground. He struggled with his opponent for awhile, managing to jab him right below the eye, but got a vicious backhand in return. Ultimately his opponent was too strong and he was brought back into the shack, still struggling.

The Kraut was livid. He hurled anything he could get his hands on at the Corporal while shouting curses in German. Thankfully for the Corporal his aim was off and every single cup and plate missed. He would have been too occupied to dodge, though, for he was busy staring at the man responsible for bringing him back into the shack. His once best friend stood there, holding him firmly, a bruise spreading under his right eye.
Finally the Kraut calmed down enough to draw his pistol and aim it at the Corporal’s head. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.

“NO!” The man startled everyone by grabbing the gun and wrenching it away. “Don’t kill him! We need to question him first!”

The Kraut glowered, but he saw the sense in it. “Fine.” He took the gun and holstered it. “But if he doesn’t give useful information, you’ll make up the firing squad.” He signaled his guards and they dragged the silently protesting Corporal out.

The last thing he saw before the door close was the man looking at him, straight into his eyes, and mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

***

So he had been here for three days now, cooped up in this dark little place. Every day, they took him for questioning and if he refused to reply, they would beat him up. Imagine, his best friend beating him up! His best friend being a Kraut, an enemy!

Something small and wet fell onto his knee. He stared at it wonderingly. Was he, a grown man, a paratrooper with the “Battered Bastards of Bastogne” at that, crying?

Perhaps. He didn’t care anymore. Four of five days earlier, he would have scoffed at the idea of him crying and giving in. But then again, four or five days earlier he did not know that his best friend would betray him.

How could he? Those three words again. The Corporal smiled, a rather watery smile. If only his friends, his mates, his fellow soldiers could see him now! How they would laugh. Of course, now that the Germans had slaughtered them, that would never happen. Oh, how he wished they were here!

The door creaked open, shaking him from his reverie. “Corp?” a low voice muttered. Immediately the Corporal leapt up and had the man in a stranglehold. “What d’you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Corp! Relax! I’m helping you escape!” although his tone was jovial, it held a sort of sadness, a sort of deadness to it. The Corporal stepped back. So the man knew. So he had found out after all. And he knew he deserved it.

They crept out in the cover of darkness and stole the vehicle, the very vehicle they had come in. All along the journey back to the woods they were silent, immersed in their own thoughts. Soon, they reached the edge of the forest, and disembarked. The Corporal looked at the man and the man evenly returned the gaze. Without speaking a word to each other, the two men squared their shoulders and walked in. Soon they were swallowed up, enveloped by the darkness.
***

Dawn broke. A solitary, desolate figure walked out of the woods, towards the nearby town. He was clutching a gleaming metal object, although now that it was covered with a dark red liquid it was no longer gleaming. The two stripes on his battered, bloody American uniform identified him as a Corporal. He turned around, as if waiting for something, or someone. Finally, he turned back, never looking back, and walked away…

Alone.

Finis