Original Fiction: World War II Chapter 1
Jerry walked past dead bodies, Broken Guns, bullet shells and a lingering smell of gun powder mixed with rotting bodies. He pushed past all that along with vines. He opened up into a small barn. He gazed around. His eyes pointing to every spot a human being could hide. Specially the door. He finally came to the conclusion no one was there and sat down on a barrel, rugged and worn from being used as a tool create. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, his helmet clanging to the floor. He lays back in a Relaxed Posistion and Thinks back to this day. Loosing his friends, killing scared men, Most of all; The fear. he soon drifts off to sleep, his gun still pointed at the door, Stll swaying to his heavy, But relieved not to be dead; Breathing.
Jerry woke up to that morning to German Being Shouted outside of the barn. He quickly slaps himself awake and dives behind te Barrel, Checking to mak sure his gun is still loaded. He looks slightly over the Hem of the Barrel to get a quick look at the en whom had just burst through the door. They had green clothing, and the same gun he has. He wanted to say something in American, He wanted to shoot them. He wanted to, But At the same time Mixed emotions of Love and Relaxatio came to him, he decided to take the risk.
"Hey!...You on my Side?!"
The men looked over at the Barrel, One spoke
"Yeah, America? You lost or somehting?"
The man who spoke was a short man, but skinny, so he looked normal size, From his Stance Jerry knew that the man had just Barely got into the Academy.
"Yeah, My sqaud died. Can i come with You?"
The Short man Spoke again
"O Course! Better have brought food though! Whats your name Man?"
"Jerry, Jerry Cevlar."
"Ok, Jerry, Come on, We're heading over to the camp we'l find food and tents and Maybe some Beer."
And so he went with them, The short man who was later to be known as Darrel.