Hollow Crosses

They had been fighting for days. They were not ready. Boot camp had lasted a year, but the final day had changed everything. Suddenly all was not training and practice. Suddenly there was a real war with real people dying. Suddenly comrades were falling and not getting up again. Private first class 013 had not been prepared for any of this. She had heard rumors of the war she was going to face, but the truth had never penetrated her heart. Six months ago she had graduated from boot camp and been shipped to the field. The war was nightmarish. It was not all glory and honor as she had once dreamed. The world was bleak, and her assignments seemed so insignificant and meaningless. She had not been sent directly to the front lines but was held back. Every day she saw the casualties coming from the battles and skirmishes. Most of them were female. She had wondered then where all the men were. She heard the battlecries and screams of pain, smelled the smoke. No, she had not expected this war to be so fruitless. "Staggered by what I hear," she remembered from her days of training, "bewildered by what I see..."

And then there came the day when 013 was called into the battle. So many of her comrades were still safe in boot camp. So many had wandered off to the surrounding villages to try to blend in with the civilians. So many forgot that 013 had been their friend. So many had gone before her and fallen under the fire of the enemy. They had marched away and not returned, and she feared that their faith was buried beneath hollow crosses in the cemetery. She was afraid to go there, afraid to see who had given up.

Three weeks 013 had been on the front with no reprieve. Despair gripped her mind firmly. Her weapons were useless, the enemy always seemed to be winning, and she knew she was not even worthy to be with the heroes fighting alongside her. She was making no difference at all. Many times she tripped and many times her closest comrades, PFC 024 and PFC 018, had to lift her out of the mud. "I'm hurting the cause more than I'm helping it," she had thought as she staggered at last into the relative safety of a foxhole.

024 and 018 had no idea what happened. They were fatigued, bruised, and stumbling just as much as every other soldier in their company. Their faces were hardly recognizable behind the grease paint and dirt smeared across their cheeks. They had been running with 013 from a fox hole to a fence line that offered very good shots on the enemy. She had been right there with them, seeming a fraction more resolute than normal, and now she was gone. 024 turned abruptly and saw 013 go sprawling in the mud. "Man down!" she yelled at 018 over the sound of the guns. She and 018 scrambled back to their friend, pulled her up, and slung her arms over their shoulders. 013 sputtered, coughed, and moaned, but said nothing coherent. 018 saw crimson seeping through 013's uniform.

"It's a stomach wound!" she cried to 024, who was desperately scanning their surroundings.

"Let's get her back to the fox hole," 024 said, flinching as a bullet whizzed by her head. They hefted 013 up and managed to get her back to the small depression in the ground. They eased 013 down on her back. 013 was not well. She was coughing up blood and writhing in pain. "We're losing her!" 024 said, for she was unable to stop the bleeding.

"Where's the commander?" 018 asked. "He's the only one that can help her!"

024 spun this way and that on her knees, looking up and down the drawn lines. The soldiers were so sparse, so beaten. So many were women. "Where are the men?" 024 muttered. "We need the men!" She spotted the commander then, leading a small charge on their left flank. 018 had also seen him.

"I'm going for him," 018 proclaimed, leaping from the fox hole.

"Get back here!" ordered 024. "We can't get to him right now! You'll get yourself killed! She'll be dead by the time you even get to him!"

018 did not bother to turn and tell 024 that 013 had already stopped breathing.

024 paled when she looked down at 013 and prayed that 018 would get to the commander safely. 013 was not one to give up so quickly, but she was dead. Only the commander could offer any hope at all, if there was any left to be had. 024 bowed her head and wept as the war continued.

024 saw a vision then. In the midst of the smoke that assaulted her nose, eyes, and mouth, she saw 018 trotting toward her with the commander not far behind. 024 blinked and rubbed her tired eyes. She could not tell whether what she was seeing was real or fake. She glanced down at the still form of 013 beside her and gripped her comrade's still warm hands. "You'll be alright," she told the silent soldier. "He'll make it alright."

A soft voice spoke 024's name, and she looked up through tears to see the commander climbing into the fox hole. 024 briefly wondered at the fact that she still had a name. She had forgotten.

018 was on her knees beside 013. "She's dead, sir," 018 reported. "She's been dead since I left to find you."

024 scooted back from 013 slightly so the commander could get to her. He was crying too. What was that supposed to mean? She eyed 018, who returned her gaze with the same fear written across her face. Wasn't the commander going to do something? Or was he going to let 013 be buried beneath a hollow cross like so many others, forgotten?

"She's not dead," he said at last, setting a hand over the blood on 013's stomach. "She's unconscious."

018 knew 013 was dead. She had watched, horrified, as 013's labored breathing had halted. And 024 had been with 013 since that last breath and nothing had changed. 013 was not alive.

Yet the commander had taken 013's hand, and it looked like she was gripping it. He whispered her name, and she opened her eyes and smiled at him. 018 and 024 had not seen her smile for days. The commander helped 013 stand, then he wiped his thumbs across her cheeks, unmasking the healthy flush of youth. He straightened the helmet on her head and brushed his hand past her stomach. The blood was gone, and there was no ragged hole in her uniform. Somehow the rifle that had been left back in the puddle was in his grasp, and as he entrusted it back to 013, he said, "I am with you. Now go. Fight and do not fear." He motioned at the battlefield. 013 let out a wild cry of victory, jumped from the fox hole, and ran toward the line that was creeping into enemy territory.

The commander touched 024 and 018, and they could feel life returning to them too. New strength poured into them, and the serene eyes of their commander gave them hope. "Go," he urged.

The smoke returned. 024 was just about to run after 013 when she realized that 013 still lay at her feet. The hand she clutched was growing cold. It had been a vision after all. 013 was dead, and 018 was gone. 024 could no longer see anything but smoke. She sat down and put her back against the wall of the fox hole. She could not give in to depression now. 018 would bring the commander back. She had to. 013 would not be dead long before he of the unspeakable name came to breathe life into her again.

Copyright 2007 GMV