dream i had

Dream i had in which i was a solider in ww1 (i think i've been consuming too much ww1/ww2 related media recently)

I crawl out of a hole in the ground, peering up at the gray sky. the barren, muddy land stretches out as far as I can see and there are craters filled with rain water and dead bodies everywhere. everything smells damp. the stench of death wafts through the air. 

there are three of us, all soldiers in greenish gray uniforms with ghostly complexions and wide, slightly fearful eyes (although mine are probably the most fearful). I am shaking. the man next to me turns to follow my gaze. I look at him.

"when the shelling starts, what you need to do is fall straight to the ground," he says, voice rough with a sense of familiarity as if he knows exactly what is about to occur, "doesn't matter where you are. just lie down and stay still. put some dirt on yourself too if that helps."

I nod and stay quiet, I am too scared to speak. I don't know why there are just three of us. where is everyone else? 

there is a long moment of silence as we walk, boots sinking in the mud, but then we hear it; the distant rumble of the planes approaching. 

they roar loudly and the two men next to me shout something that I can barely hear. we all drop down, falling like flies. my face is buried in the brown, sticky earth. I close my eyes and put my hands around the back of my helmet that, when one thinks about it, serves no protection at all.

the bombing starts and it feels like an earthquake. the land becomes even more decimated than it was before, but I can't see it. I scoop bits of sludge over my body in a sad attempt to hide my pitiful frame. a shell lands a few yards away. dirt submerges me. 

this goes on for a long while, although I'm not totally sure how much time has passed. has it been minutes? hours? days of this torment? this ever present ringing in my ears and the sting of mud in my eyes? 

finally, after what seems like decades, it quiets. but the quiet is unsettling, as if it's not supposed to be there. it's droning and uncomfortable. 

I rise slowly from the earth like a corpse raised from the dead. my comrade, the one who gave me the lesson on what to do only moments ago, emerges with me, but our third companion does not. neither of us can locate him, assuming he has been blown to pieces; strewn across the decrepit soil.

a ways away we see a shack of some sort. it's clearly out of place, not making sense with the rest of our surroundings, but we make our way towards it regardless. we stand underneath it's metal overhang and I turn to the man beside me. 

"am I okay?" I ask, suddenly becoming very aware that I could have some wound I know nothing of. he doesn't answer, but just stares at me with glossy eyes. his mouth opens and closes but no words come out. this coaxes more worry from the pit of my stomach. 

"is my face- is it-" I palm the skin of my cheeks frantically, fully expecting to be met with blood or perhaps no skin at all. but when I draw my hand back there is only grime sticking to my fingers. no wounds. but there is a stinging, somewhere, somewhere I can't place.

without saying anything, he tentatively reaches his hand and places it on the back of my neck. this is where I have been injured, as the raw skin burns when he touches it. I wince. 

his knowing eyes stare into mine and there is a sort of sweetness in them, a sort of comfort. I can feel tears slip down my cheeks. I don’t think I have cried in years.

neither of us say anything. there is nothing else to be said.