‹ Prequel: Flucht
Status: 2.0.
Tommy Guns
acht
“Hey.”
“Did you run to catch up with me, Oberst?”
“I had a question, StabsarztSchmidt, if you don’t mind?”
“Shoot.”
“Bad choice of words.”
“Just ask the damn question.”
“Okay. Someone’s been shot, theoretically.”
“Not a far stretch, considering where we are.”
“True. So they’ve been shot but they’ve survived and they get sepsis.”
“Sucks to be them. Your point, Müller?”
“Could one theoretically survive that? In the trenches, I mean.”
“Theoretically? Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Sepsis is blood poisoning. Think about the conditions in the trenches. You guys shit where you sleep, and eat where you shit. You’re lucky dysentery is the only thing you’re contracting. If feces get in contact with the wound then it infects the blood, which leads to tissue rot and organ damage and quite frankly-”
“Okay that’s enough, I think he’s stopped listening. Are you okay?”
“You seriously think having a conversation like normal humans in the middle of a whole platoon is a good idea, Felix?”
“I’m just checking, you’ve not ventured from the camp since-”
“I’m fine. Seriously Felix. Nobody’s even tried to shoot at us.”
“Yet.”
“Stop being such a worry-wart. And keep your voice down. Someone might hear.”
“Who’s the worry-wart now?”
“God, and you call me the childish one. Felix, stop grinning. We’re meant to be talking about sepsis.”
“Maybe I find it funny.”
“I’m being serious, Felix. You’re putting both of us at risk by speaking like this.”
“Maybe I’m sick of hiding.”
“And maybe I like my head without a bullet hole in it!”
“This is shit.”
“Of course it is. I didn’t say it was going to be fun, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“So suck it up, buttercup. Or we’re both dead.”
“Did you run to catch up with me, Oberst?”
“I had a question, StabsarztSchmidt, if you don’t mind?”
“Shoot.”
“Bad choice of words.”
“Just ask the damn question.”
“Okay. Someone’s been shot, theoretically.”
“Not a far stretch, considering where we are.”
“True. So they’ve been shot but they’ve survived and they get sepsis.”
“Sucks to be them. Your point, Müller?”
“Could one theoretically survive that? In the trenches, I mean.”
“Theoretically? Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Sepsis is blood poisoning. Think about the conditions in the trenches. You guys shit where you sleep, and eat where you shit. You’re lucky dysentery is the only thing you’re contracting. If feces get in contact with the wound then it infects the blood, which leads to tissue rot and organ damage and quite frankly-”
“Okay that’s enough, I think he’s stopped listening. Are you okay?”
“You seriously think having a conversation like normal humans in the middle of a whole platoon is a good idea, Felix?”
“I’m just checking, you’ve not ventured from the camp since-”
“I’m fine. Seriously Felix. Nobody’s even tried to shoot at us.”
“Yet.”
“Stop being such a worry-wart. And keep your voice down. Someone might hear.”
“Who’s the worry-wart now?”
“God, and you call me the childish one. Felix, stop grinning. We’re meant to be talking about sepsis.”
“Maybe I find it funny.”
“I’m being serious, Felix. You’re putting both of us at risk by speaking like this.”
“Maybe I’m sick of hiding.”
“And maybe I like my head without a bullet hole in it!”
“This is shit.”
“Of course it is. I didn’t say it was going to be fun, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“So suck it up, buttercup. Or we’re both dead.”