It was not much warmer in the hole he had dug for himself than it was outside it, but he eventually managed to control his convulsions. His teeth still chattered if he didn’t force them shut. He was as small as he could make himself, and he was starting to cramp.
Outside, the gunfire and explosions continued. The sound crashed against him like waves, drowning him in din, pressing into his brain until he couldn’t breath, and then draining away into an almost-silence, leaving him cold and tired and barely able to brace for the next onslaught. Another came, and another. Another always came.
His friends and fellow soldiers were dead, their corpses somewhere on the field. It was night now, but there had been no sun for days, just iron clouds and stiff wind and an ever-present mist soaking into the bones.
Charles existed, and the sensation was terror.
His fingers pressed against his pocket. He could feel the envelope. There was no way to read the letter now, but he knew what it said. He had read it repeatedly in the days leading up to the onslaught. It said impossible things. It said, “The day will come when the war will end, and all the pain and sorrow that seems to swallow your world will dwindle. You will be happy again, and there will be peace. I know, because I am writing from that day. I cannot say more, but trust the one who writes this letter.” It was written in his handwriting and it was signed with his name.
The night was endless, and if he slept, he did not know it. The world became silent, utterly silent, as if all men had died and the grave ruled. The sky grayed, and it began to rain. He could not move, and he had not been dry for many days. Charlie struggled and slithered free of his hole onto churned earth. He drank water from a puddle and wept.
They found him later, as he crawled back toward safety. Three of them surrounded him and jeered at him in their language. They pushed him forward and hit him in the back with the butt of their rifles. Then he was among them at their base, their soulless eyes watching him. Into a dark hole they pushed him. They close a thick panel over him.
He touched the envelope in his pocket. He knew what it said by heart. He knew what it said.
The darkness deepened in the hole, and it was night again.