Shock in the Darkness

Based on Canada'a Golgotha by Francis Derwent Wood

It's the dead of night and you are sound asleep inside the trench you dug.  Dreaming of home, or the Kizar, or some froline, I dunno what Jerries think about.  It's cold, dirty, damp.

I'm coming to take you out of your misery.

In the shadows we lurk, clad in darkness and wearing more blackface than an American minstrel show.  In my hand a butcher's cleaver, readied over you.  Why not just shoot you?  Simple - guns are loud, knives are quiet.  Quiet to maximise my body count.  The only analogue you have for us, when awake and cry out "Es ist der Sturmtruppler."

Yes, the Stormtrooper. Shock Troops.

Your vocal alarm went off too late: many of your friends are already puddles of muddy blood. Now, you look me in the eyes all doe like and beg "Bitte! Ich ergebe mich! Hab Erbarmen!"  Arms up and everything.

And I say "Sorry?  You surrender?  Plead for mercy?  You've killed my brothers and you have the nerve to demand mercy!"

We never forgot about when you, yes you, polluted the air with chlorine.  Burning our lungs as we choked to death.

You are not eating my rations.

I descend of those who settled savage lands.  Making me a savage.  Less than.  My live forfeit. The cannon fodder, forced at the front, the first to die, so the fat, British, lords behind us don't have to.

So if we are going to die, then we shall take as many of you with us as possible.  The sooner you die, the sooner the war ends, the sooner I can go home.

This is why we are the tip of the spear. As we rush through No Man’s Land in a rain of fire. Leaving death and destruction in my wake.  Taking any hope that you will make it out alive.

In the name of the crucified soldier. Maple leaf forever.

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Have a solemn Remembrance Day.