An old song

A last look on his watch. It was nearly time. He moved a bit on his side and a small lump of mud dribbled into his collar. But that was meaningless. His leg was nearly asleep, not good.

The sound as he put on his steel helmet resounded disturbingly loud in the unusual silence. No shot was fired since hours. Birds didn’t exist here for a long time now. The injured of yesterday’s attack were brought away long ago – or were no longer just injured.

For months they were facing each other. The attacking side changed. Sometimes one side won a few hundred meters, sometimes the other side.
What both sides were losing at each attack was a part of their future. Hundreds of lives, wasted without meaning.

From the dugout came the chirping sound of the radio. It always did that if someone set it to be louder.
The song started.

The song ended. That was the signal. Around him the soldiers got tense. One single signal whistle and hundreds started running.
How many would reach their goal? How many Lilli Marleen would be waiting in vain?