Max, Eric and Johann - I

The battlefield stretched out before Max, a broken landscape under a pale morning sky. He stood at the edge of the trench, staring at the wreckage. Shattered rifles, torn uniforms, and the bodies of fallen soldiers littered the ground a harsh reminder of the fight they barely survived.

The air stank of gunpowder and smoke. Max adjusted his grip on his rifle, finding some comfort in its familiar weight. His uniform was filthy, torn in places, and stained with dried blood. He rubbed his tired eyes, knowing he needed to be ready for whatever came next.

"Keep your heads down!" Sergeant Weber's voice snapped him back to the moment. Weber moved down the trench with purpose, his face showing the weariness of a man who'd seen too much. "We've got reports of a push from the east. Stay sharp!"

Max exchanged a glance with Erik, who was checking his ammunition. "Another push already?" Max muttered, shaking his head. "They don't let up, do they?"

Erik looked up, his expression tight. "We'll hold, just like we always do."

"Yeah," Max replied, but his voice lacked conviction. He glanced down the trench, watching the men prepare. There was no time to rest, no time to think. Just the endless cycle of fight, survive, repeat.

As the hours passed, the distant sound of artillery fire grew louder, signaling the beginning of another assault. Max dropped into position, his rifle trained on the horizon. The trench buzzed with activity as everyone braced for the attack.

"Max, you ready?" Erik asked, crouching next to him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Max replied, adjusting his stance. He turned to Erik. "You?"

Erik nodded, a grim look on his face. "We've got no choice, right?"

"Right," Max said, trying to muster some confidence. "We just do what we have to."

Their conversation was cut short as the first explosions rocked the ground. The enemy was coming fast. Max could see the dark shapes moving through the smoke, and he raised his rifle.

"They're coming!" one of the soldiers shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the guns.

Max fired his rifle as soon as he saw movement through the smoke. The enemy was coming, and fast. He could see them clearly now dark figures advancing in a coordinated line. The ground shook with each explosion, but Max kept his focus, firing shot after shot, pushing back the advancing line.

"They're coming in strong!" Erik shouted, reloading his rifle beside Max.

Max nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just keep firing! We can't let them through!"

The trench became a flurry of noise and movement. Orders were shouted, gunfire cracked through the air, and the ground trembled under the barrage of explosions. Max fired until his rifle was hot in his hands, each shot blending into the chaos.

Amidst the fight, Max spotted a young soldier huddled behind a sandbag, his face pale with fear. Max slid over to him, gripping the boy's shoulder. "Stay with me, kid. Just keep your head down and follow my lead. You'll make it."

The boy nodded, his hands shaking as he raised his rifle. Max stayed close, making sure the boy didn't freeze up. They fired together, side by side, as the enemy pushed harder.

"How much longer can they keep this up?" the boy asked, his voice trembling.

Max didn't have an answer. He just kept shooting, hoping that the enemy would tire before they did. "As long as it takes," he finally said, though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself.

"Reloading!" Erik called out, ducking behind the sandbags. He glanced at Max. "Think this is the big push they've been talking about?"

"Feels like it," Max said, slamming a new clip into his rifle. "They're throwing everything at us."

A soldier to their left shouted in pain as he was hit. Max winced but didn't look. He couldn't afford to. "We have to hold," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Max, behind you!" Erik's voice was sharp.

Max spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. An enemy soldier had breached the trench, coming at him with a bayonet. Max fired instinctively, the bullet finding its mark. The enemy soldier crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Max's hands shook as he lowered his rifle. Erik grabbed his arm, steadying him. "Stay focused, Max. We're not done yet."

Max nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thanks. I—thanks, Erik."

"We're all we've got out here," Erik said, his voice steady. "We look out for each other."

"Yeah," Max agreed, turning back to face the enemy. "Let's keep going."

As the hours dragged on, the intensity of the attack began to fade. The enemy's advance slowed, their numbers thinning. Max could feel the shift this time, they were holding the line.

"Looks like they're pulling back," Erik said, breathing heavily.

Max nodded, lowering his rifle. "For now." He glanced at the boy, who was still crouched beside him, and gave him a small nod of approval. "You did good."

The young soldier managed a weak smile, relief flooding his face.

The trench grew quieter as the last of the gunfire died down. The men began to settle, catching their breath and tending to the wounded. Max slumped against the trench wall, exhausted but relieved they had made it through another assault.

"We did it," the boy said quietly, almost as if he couldn't believe it.

Max nodded, offering a faint smile. "We did. But don't get too comfortable. They'll be back."

The boy's face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah… I know."

Erik joined them, sitting heavily beside Max. "We can't keep doing this forever," he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Something's gotta give."

"It will," Max said, though he wasn't sure how. "One way or another."

They sat in silence for a while, the adrenaline slowly leaving their bodies, replaced by a deep, aching fatigue. The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the battlefield.

"You ever think about what you'll do when this is over?" the boy asked suddenly, his voice small.

Max stared out at the wreckage before them. "I try not to think that far ahead," he admitted. "Just focus on surviving the day."

"Yeah, but—" the boy hesitated. "What if we don't? Survive, I mean."

Max sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. "We will. We have to."

Erik glanced at Max, then back at the boy. "What's your name, kid?"

"Johann," the boy answered, looking surprised that anyone had asked.

"Well, Johann," Erik said, his voice softening. "You're doing alright. Just stick with us, and we'll all get out of here. You've got a future waiting for you."

Johann nodded slowly, as if trying to believe it. "Thanks."

Max looked at Erik, grateful for the way he handled the boy. Johann was young too young to be here but then, weren't they all? War didn't care about age, only about who was left standing when the dust settled.