An Alternative History

"Aufstehen! Aufstehen!" the figure, attired in a dark grey uniform with several undistinguishable markings visible on the sleeves, yelled brutally from above me, raising me out of unconsciousness. I didn't respond... couldn't respond. My legs were severed from the knees down- dark red fluid oozing out of the various veins and arteries and blood flowed steadily from what was left of my nose. A numbness of a kind I had never experienced before swept over my body. I felt only half alive- oblivious to the world and without a fear of anything it could throw at me. Looking up, I distinguished the charred remains of what looked to have been the houses of parliament, yet I couldn't be certain. Smoke gushed from windows and shell holes like untamed serpents- engulfing everything in its path. Smoke trails from planes suffocated the sky and the distant echo of artillery fire let out a constant 'thump' noise. The sound of war.
"Aufstehen!" the figure yelled again. I saw a gun in his hand. Its cold metal radiated death.
"Drei!"
He gazed mercilessly into my eyes- the unforgiving stare ripping through me.
"Zwei!"
He cocked the gun.
"Eins!"
The numbness stopped. My heart pounded. For that single moment of my life I was aware of everything around me, but it was too late for these feelings now. I closed my eyes for the last time and drew a final deep breath. My world stopped.

It had all started in august 1940. The skies had filled with bombers- all bearing the Swastika- intent on reigning death upon the citizens of London and other major cities. We couldn't combat the threat. Apparently, a new British aircraft had just come into production and the government had promised that it would be the 'saviour of the free world'. The Spitfire it was called. That came to late, however. Nothing we threw at the waves of Nazi planes seemed to deter them. They were like a ferocious swarm of mosquitoes- stopping at nothing to bleed our island dry.

Then came the land invasion. The Lutwaffe had destroyed our Royal Navy, rendering Britain almost defenceless. The German army had swarmed over our coastal cities in a matter of days, leaving a bloody swathe of death in their wake. Churchill had ordered all men who were capable of fighting to take up arms against the tyrant that was Germany. I, a fifty three year old from the sleepy town of Sheringham, had been levied into this militia force and posted off to protect the stronghold of British pride- London. This meant almost certain death, however. Everyone knew that, realistically, the city couldn't be held. That's how I got into this shit.

From my position in what used to be a solid, 3 bedroom townhouse, I could survey anything coming up from the high street. My body lurched back as I squeezed off a few rounds from my carbine rifle. Dropped one. First kill of the day. I had become de-humanised over these last few days. Killing no longer bothered me anymore- after four weeks of being locked within a brutal fire fight, with death breathing down your neck with every step you took, awaiting the moment to pounce upon your mortal body- you learn to care for yourself and no other.

Outside of a window to my left, the air had become clouded with a murky green gas, barely visible through the sea of dust that had enveloped the city since the opening days bombardment. The gas was a killer. It burned your lungs from inside out, giving you an excruciating death which could last as long as 48 hours. I had seen many a friend go that way. Move. I grasped my gun in two hands and set off away from the green mist developing a block south of me. There were no battlelines anymore- nowhere to retreat to. All the principles of warfare had gone out the window. You won, or died fighting. Your only aim was to make it from one day to the next. If you set this to be your only goal, you could at least retain the basic human instinct of personal survival. It kept you going.

I approached a street and headed north along it- the opposite way to the gas. The steady creaking from the shattered infrastructure of buildings echoed around me, like moaning giants. I had to continue. If you stopped you were a dead man, especially on a main road like this. The German Panzer tanks would come rolling down, their huge guns annihilating anything that moved.

Gunfire erupted. I instinctively dived into an alleyway to my right but it was too late. The force of the bullets penetrating my kneecaps sent me flying back into the wall. I felt nothing. Hearing the ruff tones of the German soldiers approach, I frantically tried to move myself into a hiding place between an old bin and collapsed door. But just as i began dragging my limp body towards the desired spot, my face suffered a blow from the butt a rifle. My nose shattered. Another blow from a rifle penetrated my cheekbone. The Germans didn't take prisoners- everyone knew that. They didn't bother with the hassle. A third and final whack from the rifle hit me in the stomach, forcing the air that was left in my lungs out. I blacked out.