Coping shots

I was coping, sure. But that’s where I went wrong. That’s why I turned.

The corporal didn’t know - his last moments were blissful, drunk - seventeen shots in. That’s how he coped. And it had left us all in the shit. We’d talk about telling someone. Next time we spotted anyone with a single stripe more we’d blurt it all out. Then he’d be a goner - or we would. Difficult to know whether speaking out works before you do it. Maybe they’ll punish you. As if the messenger’s the problem. Yeah, that’d be it.

He cracked his head when he fell from his chair. I’d hoped maybe that was him gone. But hope’s no good. I ended up disappointed when I creeped closer and he let out a huge snore. It frightened me, like a zombie. As if someone who has died will know all your secrets. As if he’d have seen the fantasising and seen the pistol loaded. Then I’d be in for it. But he was no zombie. He was alive and prepping for another day of shit, hungover decisions.

I returned to my seat. Nothing like a surprise to spoil a plan. I felt so uncertain all of a sudden. Lee will kill me if I don’t kill him. Then I’ll never see home. Then the promise will be broken. Denise would kill me all over again the moment she saw my coffin. My parents wouldn’t be able to cope. And I’d be there watching it all. No way to change any of it.

And he just lay there. Without any of this to think about. He’d coped with loss by leaving everyone behind, breaking off from them. He’d broken two women’s hearts and left three children fatherless. Wonder what they’d think, I thought, as I cocked the pistol and pointed it at his drooling mouth. They’d hate me, nonetheless. Maybe his snores would smother the gunshot.

We’d be without direction for a few days until someone came to work out what was going on. We’d have to scarper by then. We’d have to leave most stuff. Take a bit of food, maybe. Hal would get hungry. He always was. Maybe we’d have to leave him with the corporal and the others. Hal would know, though. Unfit, but hyper-sensitive. He’ll come with.

But here we are. I better do it. The boys can’t go on.

Corporal made a few jokes earlier about clueless generals. I wonder what they’d think about his loose mouth. Maybe they’d kill him. But we’d be suspects too. Sidelined. Broken up. He was making a serious point though. He felt he’d failed. But he thought that was the generals’ faults. So we sat around resenting them until we met another platoon passing through. Motivated, fit, well-fed. We felt all the shitter after that. Were we the worst they had? Corporal had to give us a pep talk. But he must have been nervous, because he was blind drunk giving it. We hardly understood him by the end, and all this sacrifice seemed to be for nothing.

That’s why we’re caught in this hole. Bastard. Because of you.

I stand and point harder at his sloppy jaw. It’ll be too loud. A pillow. But the pillows here are rocks. Shooting through a rock.

I put the gun away and step over to him. I hold my boot across his neck and press. His head rolls a bit. I have to readjust my foot. His voicebox slips. I readjust. I press. He begins to gargle. A sound outside. I press harder and draw my gun again. He’s not going. I take my boot away and hide in the corner. A soldier pops his head in. I stay still. He doesn’t see me. ‘Rob - come here!’ Another head pops in. ‘He’s a mess.’

‘Let’s get him into a bed.’

They come in. They’ll see me in a couple of seconds. I’ll shoot them. No. Their helmets. Too much of a gamble. I crouch to the floor and play drunk myself. They see me. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I play drunk. ‘You idiot. We’re marching tomorrow.’

Tomorrow. Will I have to act hungover? Maybe this is when...

I can’t remember, now, how I shot them both. The whole thing woke everyone up though. I was committed and finished the corporal off. Then Hal had to shoot the others that came to check. He was shaking after. I offered him a drink. He said he wasn’t thirsty, but he took the corporal’s rations. I said I wouldn’t tell, but the next day when they counted what we had, they said too much was missing and asked Hal why his bag was full. Rick almost shot him there. But I shot Rick.

Eating, drinking, shooting. Always coping at the expense of others. So long as somebody else was to blame, we had some purpose. But now it was me leading us out. It was all on me. I slept with my pistol at each stop on the way.