March On

The deserted landscape was a sight of horror. Screams and shouts filled the air. Dust and dirt blew up, blocking anyone who passed through's vision. Blood and bullets littered the ground. It was a sight of horror.

Two military men marched forward. Alfred and Arthur had both gotten lost from their troops. For days they had been searching for their camps or some form of civilization. All they had seen was slopping hills that teased them with the idea that someone might be on the other side.

"Dude, will we ever make it?" Alfred's voice sighed. "This is getting hopeless. Maybe it's time to-"

"No. We can't. Our men need us to return. Our families need us to return," Arthur lashed at the American. His green eyes were filled with an angry determination. "We must keep calm and carry on. For the love of God and our country. I'm not giving up and neither should you."

They continued on with their journey. Arthur escaped to his thoughts. 'Keep calm and carry on.' He had been repeating this phrase to himself and his companion. It was his reason for keeping hold of that thin strand of sanity he had left. It was an old phrase from England, but it kept him thinking of returning. It brought the smell of his rose garden and a nice cup of earl grey. It brought the familiar sound of the pounding London rain. It brought back the taste of good fish and chips with a pint of the finest beer. These were the only things that he had to push him forward and dammit, he was going to use them till he escaped.

A punch from Alfred made the Briton leave his mind. "Look," He whispered. A compound that hung the American and British flags outside stood infront of them. Before he could address the other man, Alfred darted off. Arthur moved a second or two after him, but the speed from the American's few more years of youth gave him a solid lead.

That wasn't the best thing for him though. Because once he reached the camp, the man crumpled into a ball at the entrance. Arthur slowed down and walked behind him. Upon reaching the sites, his jaw dropped to the floor. Men. Dozens of their allies were slain and brutally shot. They were over killed.

Arthur stepped carefully over some of the bodies. These men had gone through enough, they didn't deserve to get the dust from his boots imprinted on them. Where there should've been food, extra ammo, weapons, and supplies, there was nothing. It all had been scourged or snatched. He slunk himself against the wall.

Alfred entered silently and joined his comrade on the ground. "So, this is the end, huh?"

There was no point in clarifying what 'the end' exactly was. Everyone who's ever stepped foot into this line of work knew. It would've been a waste of precious air to explain. "I believe it is. We've had a good run haven't we?"

Alfred smiled. "A great one."

Each one threw an arm over the other's shoulders. Together, they went into the good night. Not just as allies and fellow military men. As friends and brothers.