"Goodbye Curly Head"

"Great Mother In The Sky"

They’d always come at night. First, forming right above his eyeballs, squeezing into the little space in between his skin and the glossy surface. Then, escaping their flesh prison, cheerfully cascading down his face and onto his bedsheets. Tears, those warm, familiar tears, always accompanied by the soft wailing of the wind outside. How it played a sonata of sorrow and pain, just for him, the lone soloist’s cries.

That night, however, the symphony seemed a tad off tune. A beat too loud, a volume too chaotic. Was it mother nature’s wrath? A punishment for his poor musical performance? A loud booing, urging him to get off the stage, as no tears had managed to come.

No, it was something entirely different. Movements were stirring underneath the others’ sheets as the obnoxious howling only grew louder and more violent. Andy tried calming himself down by producing the familiar picture from within his pillowcase, a new hiding spot. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Look at the three of them. Breathe in, breathe out. See how that grin stretches on her silly, lovable face. Breathe in, breathe out. How that smirk gently plays about her lips, a stark contrast to her stern parting words. Breathe in, breathe out… How their three halos shine in unison, radiating pure glee and childlike joy through the paper.

A low rumbling shook the very ground beneath the hut.

The barracks sprung to life in an instant, anxious murmurs and annoyed grumblings of the awoken filling the air. There was no sign of stopping from the gathering storm outside, as it kept battering their poor hut into the ground. Just in case, Andy slid the picture into his shirt’s chest pocket, not knowing what to expect. He stumbled out of bed and skipped along the cold wooden floor towards a window. They’ve always been taught that no matter the amount of enemy artillery cannons, reconnaissance is the real war winning tool. Reconnaissance and a keen eye, that is…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing could be seen outside, just a mishmash of monochrome shades, snowflakes being violently thrown around by the sharp wind and…

There was movement out there. Little dark blobs and shadows making their way through the snowstorm, dancing chaotically and bumping against one another. Late night training? Sure, the Head Lieutenant might’ve been cruel, but not cruel enough to organize a punishment this severe. Not in this weather. What was it, then? A patrol coming back from the wilderness? A lone wanderer? A pack of hungry houndbeasts? A…

A distant gunshot broke through the wind’s desperate wailing. The whole hut jumped and went entirely silent. Just before the confused stupor could fully wash over the boys, another gunshot rang out from afar. And another.

“Night raid."

Someone whispered.

“Night raid!"

Someone yelled.

“NIGHT RAID! NIGHT RAID! ARM UP! WAKE THE OTHERS!”

A great commotion followed, as each and every one of the Privates launched themselves towards their messily disorganized piles of clothes, hastily throwing on just about anything thick enough to protect from the storm raging outside. Andy barely managed to pull a sweater over his head, before Droz jumped down from his upper bunk, already fully dressed and ready for action.

“C’mon! Goddamn this… You just couldn’t have picked something with a zipper?! Goddamn preppie…”

Amidst his cursing, Droz kept tugging and pulling down at his sweater, trying to help the boy untangle himself. The loose threads and stretchy material kept dragging his halo down, bringing about a heap of uncomfortable burrowing in his head. All the others were already rushing outside, a gentle red hue illuminating the entire hut. Just as Andy managed to pull his arm through the heavy coat’s sleeve, another few gunshots erupted somewhere nearby. Without thinking much, he tore the nightstand open and hurriedly pulled his father’s .38 revolver from within, along a handful of bullets. He didn't even bother to check if it's loaded, knowing it was never once shot before in this country, hoping he wouldn’t have a reason to do so, now.