It’s 1916. It is likely early in the morning, or so you assume, though you didn’t get any sleep last night so it is hard to tell. Regardless, it’s always hard to tell what time it is, that is, if you can even remember that time is passing at all. It’s the feeling you get when everything around you just seems completely surreal. Or maybe, you just like to pretend that everything is surreal in attempts to mask the true horror of it all.
The sweat on your face has blended with the mud you’ve been sleeping in and the blood of yourself, your friends, and complete strangers. Your clothes are drenched in a similar mixture and, on top of that, are ripped and torn in numerous places exposing your bare skin to the already brutal elements. The socks that you have been wearing for the past nine days are soaked through. Along with the blood, sweat, and mud, your feet are growing some sort of white fungus. The smell is unbearable.
There are constant deafening gunshots being sent out, but the sounds have just become white noise to you. Besides, the noise is just another way to help drown out everything else that is going on around you.
You’re cold, shivering, tired, hungry, and feel completely alone.
Somehow you find yourself in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. You’re alone with your gun, until a man from enemy lines stumbles towards you. Your first instinct is to raise your rifle and prepare to fire; until you notice that this poor man is without weapon, already injured, and thus utterly defenseless.
Furthermore, you recognize this man as someone you knew, even liked, as a child. This man has actually saved your life. He rescued you from drowning in the river behind your house when you were just six years old. Not long after that incident, him and his family had moved far away.
A small, but bright, smile crosses both of your faces as you both vividly recall the time when you were friends. You moved towards your injured companion to give him a hand, but then you hear a noise right behind you. It is one of your officers.
At this point you know if you continue to help your friend you will be considered a traitor and sent to jail to be tortured and your friend will be killed by the officer anyway. Your only other two options are either shooting your friend , who has saved your life in the past, or shooting the officer, of whom you were never particularly fond. No one except you, your friend, and the officer will know what happened.
You close your eyes.
What do you do?