Accused

  Student Essay by Carrieann Heyne

   It had been six weeks since Russell had been sent to the army boot camp. Before that, he had been falsely accused of theft, sent to prison, and treated like a vicious animal. He despised the people who thought him evil when he was clearly innocent. It wasn't fair that he couldn't afford a lawyer. So when Russell found out that he could enlist in the war instead of suffocating in those rat infested cells, he took the opportunity eagerly, wanting to desperately get away from his accusers. But now as he had been suffering through harsh training for six weeks, he was questioning how wise of a choice he had made.

     Russell stuffed his feet into his heavy boots, aggressively tightening the shoe laces. He was still angry at the people who had ridiculed him. If it wasn't for them, he would be home and safe and living a normal life. Instead, he was taking the punishment that was supposed to be for the real criminal. Suddenly he heard Sargent Marvin's footsteps enter the room and everyone, including Russell, scrambled into position, tensing their bodies. 

     Marvin, the man with straight black hair and a sharp jawline, looked at each one of them before he spoke. "Today, as we all should know, is the day you all are sent out into the battlefields of World War 2. I suspect you will work harder than you have this entire time since you are about to embark on a mission of life and death. I don't want you to take this matter lightly. Every man must fight for America to his greatest ability. And I believe you will." He paused and Russell could see a few people lift their heads proudly. "Now let's get moving soldiers!" And with that, he left. Thirty minutes later, they were boarding a Navy ship headed for the Ardennes. 

     Russell was now sitting on his bunk bed, bouncing his legs, when his friend Carl hopped down from the bed above him. Russell looked up at his friend's concerned face and tried to give a reassuring smile. It didn't work. 

     "Hey, you doin' alright?" Carl asked, squatting next to Russell's bed. Russell sighed and ran his hand over his face before answering.

     "Why should I be alright? We're about to enter enemy territory. And when we do, there's no telling who's going to survive. I just don't know if I'm ready to be the one who doesn't. But then again, maybe death would be better than living with everyone back home looking down on me, thinking that I'm a criminal when I'm actually innocent. It's not fair!" He said, slamming his hand into the metal wall next to him in anger. 

     Carl shook his head, "I know I can't empathize with you very well since I'm only here because of unpaid debts, but choosing life is always a better option." He got up from his squat and put a comforting hand on Russell's shoulder. Russell smiled grimly and shook out his stinging hand when Carl wasn't looking. It still hurt from when he hit it on the wall. Then a voice sounded through the intercoms saying, "All units report for duty." Immediately, everyone in the room got up and started heading out the door, Russell and Carl following behind. Time to get to work.

     The next two weeks for Russell was a routine of breakfast, downtime, training, lunch, patrol, dinner, a little more downtime, and finally sleep. It was almost like he was still at boot camp but on a ship. Everything seemed like normal until the day of arrival when they spotted land and could hear guns firing. 

     It was freezing and the sky was covered completely in fog. Russell was tempted to lose his composure and sit on the floor to conserve heat, but decided against it, preferring not to suffer the consequences of slacking if he was caught. Instead he straightened up, only allowing his teeth to chatter. Then he heard the sound of a distant explosion and his eyes widened. They had finally arrived at the battle. 

     His heart racing, he swiftly came to the nearest man of authority and saluted him. "Sir. I heard gunshots in the North," he reported in a strong voice.

     The man nodded, "Thank you, private. We must be getting close to land. Continue your patrol, but stay alert. I will inform the others."

     "Yes, Sir." Russell returned to his post, and as they got closer to land, Russell became more anxious. His hands began shaking but not from the cold. He could feel the tension on the ship growing as each person that passed him had a look of determination but also fear. 

     Soon, the ship stopped and everyone was ordered to get into the boats and lower them. The crew was immediately in action and the soldiers were swiftly jogging to the boats. Adrenaline building in his veins, Russell followed suit but bumped into Carl on the way. His friend gave him a nervous smile and together they hopped into a boat with a few other soldiers. They were then lowered down by the crew and their boat hit the rough waters.

     Besides the sound of the crashing water and the men pushing the oars through the ocean, everyone was silent. As he rowed, Russell spotted some of the other boats near them, but the fog was too heavy to see any further than a few yards. After a few minutes though, he could barely see anything beyond the boat. He was thankful that they had compasses or it would be inevitable to get lost in this mist.

     Finally, with aching muscles, he and the others hit land and carefully climbed up the snowy hill, alert for the enemy. Once they were on top of the hill, they bolted for the nearest patch of shrubbery. The gunshots were much louder now and all of the plans for attack that he learned over the last two weeks fled his mind as fear began to sink in. As he leaned against a tree trunk, his heart beat was so loud that he thought the enemy might hear it. Russell closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, but the air was too frigid for his lungs.

     Then he heard shouts a few yards away and he froze. He looked at Carl next to him, feeling helpless. Unlike Russell, Carl looked so focused like he was ready for anything, his gun aimed at the direction of the shouts. He got down and aimed his gun as well, but in resentment. He wished he could just run away back to his prison cell.

     Suddenly a bullet flew past his ear and he pulled his trigger in surprise. Then more bullets were being shot at them. The fog was finally lifting slightly and Russell could make out a few figures in the distance. Both sides were shooting now, including Russell and he could see men falling left and right. Bullets fired, making his ears ring, and painful moans came from fallen soldiers, making his stomach queasy and his heart ache. 

     He finally couldn't take it anymore and he fled only to bump into another enemy soldier. They both staggered back a few feet and aimed their rifles at one other. There was a long moment where they stared at each other in fear. Russell felt sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold, but he dared not wipe it away. Instead the stare continued for what seemed like hours. He only didn't shoot because he saw himself in that stranger's face: scared, alone, and in distress. Then he heard planes above them. Those planes were for bombs. He had to retreat now or he would get blown up like everyone else. Then the stranger looked up, lowered his rifle, and saluted him.

     Russell's eyes widened and his heartbeat somehow grew faster than before. Trembling, he got up and ran for his life. Why would an enemy let him live? Why didn't he shoot him? Whatever the reason, Russell was just glad to be alive and he vowed to never let himself think otherwise. Falsely accused or not