Fields

Bullets whistling in the air, sky loud with roars of planes and artilery. It was terrible, the biggest war this world has ever seen, the Great War. In all of this mess one man walked alone, all alone. Well, walked is an overstatement, he was crawling on the ground for the last few days. He was not with any side, not with any country. He wasnt wearing any uniform, just an old coat, long to his knees, dirty with blood and mud. He didnt have anything remarkable to him. A completly unknown man, a stranger maybe to the entier world. Battle was violently growing all around him, it was miracle he wasnt yet hit by a stray bullet, or any shrapnel. Even so low to the ground he was in great danger, if he would be spotted he'd be shot on the spot. An unmarked man, without clear side, that is a danger to anyone in times like these.

It's been days since he has even seen another living person, he stopped counting the dead as people long ago. After seeing so many of them he grew numb to them, now and here they are nothing more than just another piece of garbage left by the unforgiving War. The only positive was that the dead men won't hurt him.

Even after days he was still, still going strong. He hasn't had food in days, water was no problem, there was enough rain, even if dirty from the gunpowder and smoke in the air he could still drink it. But the food was bigger problem, even if he didnt look like it, still pulling himself across the ground, he was starving. There were not many choices of nutrition in these fields, in this no mans land. Only one real source for hermits like him, but even he could not eat it, even if he didnt see it for what it truely was he couldn't get himself to even think of eating it, eating some of "the garbage left by the War". Never, no matter how much he was starving he could never eat something like that.

But today was a very lucky day for him. An abendoned part of a trench. He didnt care who dug it up, or who fought and died in it. Now he was just glad he could stand up streight, that was a price in itself, but it wasnt what he really wanted from this place. He began searching, searching and searching, and there it was, after breaking crates and opening chest he found it. A small piece of left over rations, only a little, old, forgotten in the corner. He ate it all in a blink of an eye, like a starving animal. It was not nearly enough for a grown man but it was good enough for now.

He even thought about sleep, just a little nap in this trench, but he couldn't afford that. Now he had to keep on moving and moving. Still crawling his way across the battlefield. For some it would maybe seem obvious that he was in a terrible spot, but a hermit like him had it much better than any soilder in this War. No orders, no squad to keep track of, no fighting. Sure, he still was moving through the active battlefield but he didnt have to fight anyone, he didnt even have the means to do it. He didn't have a gun or any close range weapon, and he wasn't skilled in any hand to hand combat either. Just a normal person, trying to survive his journey, his journey to find someone.

But he wasn't trying to find just anyone. He was looking for the man himself, the big man upstairs so they say. He believe he was real, not only real in his faith, real in the world, real on this battlefield, in flesh and blood, the all powerful, perfect being. He was on his quest to find God. He's been trying to find him for the last three years, but this time was different, this time he has an information that in a bunker that belongs to no one, in the middle of the active warzone, in the no mans land, there was a person performing miracles. Maybe it was god himself, and even if it wasn't, performing miracles is still a godly feat so it must have been someone who knew god.

This was everything he's had for three years. His undying faith and his undying faith only. But he had to believe in something right? He had to live for something, and now, that something was to seek god in the flesh, to ask him what to do and maybe to beg for forgiveness for all the horrible things he both was forced and did on his own in this terrible War. Maybe god could forgive him for what seemed to him as crimes against human nature itself.

But now, finally after the long travel he saw something in front of him, not far was a bunker. It probably wasn't the one he was looking for, the bunker with god inside, but it was a place where he could hide, it looked empty, he wasn't sure but he had to take the risk. Slowly he got up and still in half squat he ran twords it. He reached a wall, his intuition was right, it was empty. But not only empty, it was raided, the door were wide open. As he went inside, the smell of rot hit him, it was terrible. Who ever raided this bunker killed all the soilders inside and left the bodies. But this was just something he had to endure, at least he had a safe place to rest, and wouldn't you know it, after almost an hour of searching the bunker and its reserves he found food, this time more than just a single rations, he also found a newspaper, german, the newest he could find "Fabuary 19th 1917" this man may have been living in the warzone, but he was still at least somewhat interested in what was happening outside, but as always, nothing new.

He ate all the food he could find, took everything that could be made into a bed and after days of being awake, finally went to sleep. Finally after many sleepless nights and days he could get at least some rest. Today was a good day, sleeping with at least some food in his stomach and in a warm bed, he hoped tomorrow would turn out the same. But really just one thing he really wanted was to survive another day.