Status: Updates will be more steady (I promise!)
I've Got Your Back
How wrong we were.
Private Cooper: the man I had shared barracks with, the man I lined up next to, my comrade, my friend is dead. The pain of it is suffocating, like a vice cruelly squeezing my lungs. He was so positive, so sure he would be back home soon with his fiancée. Was. Past tense. He has been reduced to pathetic memories, to a eulogy, to falling tears. I don’t know why his death hit me so greatly when men had been dropping dead around me for days. Perhaps my pain is not even for him exactly but for all the men who have died in this stupid, pointless, evil war. He does not even get exclusive rights to my tears, is that what we are reduced to in death?
I’m not even writing about him because I feel you need to know about the man or his death. Instead it is because his death was in so many ways the beginning of the end.
Because his death made me feel more vulnerable and angry than I had since the beginning of the war. Because my anger made me seek out Matthew and vent at him and tell him that I hated this war and I hated myself and I hated what we had become. And when he held out his arms to me I melted into them without a second thought; I needed him to put me back together. Soon it was not just arms dispensing comfort but lips. We kissed gently at first, tenderly. It felt like medicine. Our lips pressed against each other and then slowly my tongue traced small circles against his full bottom lip. He smiled shyly as he opened his mouth. We explored each other curiously at first and soon my tongue wrapped around his and we fought for dominance as I pushed him against the mud wall. Our tenderness quickly disappeared and we became desperate, frantic, hard.
When he moaned into my mouth it was nectar. Nevertheless I pulled my head away from him quickly, scanning the dark alleyways for any person lurking, hiding, waiting to condemn us for our actions.
It was pitch black by then and the other men were all in the makeshift dining hall eating our meagre rations. Normally we would all stay there until we absolutely had to retire to bed; not that we admitted it but company and noise made things less terrifying. Matthew and I had figured therefore that we were safe, that we had half an hour at least of privacy.
How wrong we were.
I’m not even writing about him because I feel you need to know about the man or his death. Instead it is because his death was in so many ways the beginning of the end.
Because his death made me feel more vulnerable and angry than I had since the beginning of the war. Because my anger made me seek out Matthew and vent at him and tell him that I hated this war and I hated myself and I hated what we had become. And when he held out his arms to me I melted into them without a second thought; I needed him to put me back together. Soon it was not just arms dispensing comfort but lips. We kissed gently at first, tenderly. It felt like medicine. Our lips pressed against each other and then slowly my tongue traced small circles against his full bottom lip. He smiled shyly as he opened his mouth. We explored each other curiously at first and soon my tongue wrapped around his and we fought for dominance as I pushed him against the mud wall. Our tenderness quickly disappeared and we became desperate, frantic, hard.
When he moaned into my mouth it was nectar. Nevertheless I pulled my head away from him quickly, scanning the dark alleyways for any person lurking, hiding, waiting to condemn us for our actions.
It was pitch black by then and the other men were all in the makeshift dining hall eating our meagre rations. Normally we would all stay there until we absolutely had to retire to bed; not that we admitted it but company and noise made things less terrifying. Matthew and I had figured therefore that we were safe, that we had half an hour at least of privacy.
How wrong we were.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hey :) Sorry it's been a while I rewrote this chapter so many times. In fact I briefly killed off one of them before starting again!Really interesting (well I think it is) I found the true story of a gay soldier in WW1, I've read it a lot and it made it all seem so real, that whilst this is fiction it could conceivably be similar to a story that actual happen, lives that were actually lead.
Tell me what you think? :)