We arrived in Hurtgen Forest about 5 days ago.

Mein Fuhrer required 40 men to drive the

Kuagummifresers, or the Kuags as we call
them, away. The men managed to hold them off, but the heat from the other side was getting to
their heads. Our fellow Kamerads fell onto the ground, their helmets symbolizing something that
is eventually going to die in the ground.

Barbed wires were lined and propped up but they deemed us useless since the Kuags
penetrated our defence. My platoon and I made a run for it. Makarov, Slovensky, Morowitz, and
myself. We were a platoon commanded by Lieutenant Aiden or we called him Augenklappe; his
iconic eye-patch, which made the headlines in the newspaper five years ago when he saved the
innocent natives in Guatemala and lost his eye to a Carver. The same man cowered under the
tommies of the Kuags. Aiden commanded us to take cover behind trees and step away from the
battlefield and we did so.

The path led to the mountains where Germans were stationed in their camps. It was a long way
to the German base. We got off the grubby, wet path into the woods. Makarov took a hit in the
knee. The bullet scraped it and he was bleeding and he required immediate first-aid. Slovensky
went to support him. ‘I will kill the bastards’, said he. ‘Calm now, Barchen’, Slovensky rubbed his
back and comforted him. No one knew what was going on between them except us. I remember
the two of them sneaking off in the middle of the night from their bunk beds, a small square
packet in Makarov’s hand as they went to the storage room during the army training camp.

It was going to be nightfall soon. I looked over my watch. 5:30PM. In a few hours, darkness will
fall upon us as the moon awakens. We reloaded the guns and sat down for a few minutes. I set
myself on a bed of green, replenishing my energy and examining my surroundings using all my
senses. The air smelled odd. The tang of mud and metal, now had turned into a pungent odour
of rotten flesh and sewers. The air was filled with green particles that seemed not to bother us.
We paid no attention to it. We focused on the more important part. Makarov was bleeding out.
‘You got any on ya?’, I asked Morowitz, who was an alcoholic always carried a bottle of rum with
him. I poured some on Makarov’s wound while listening to Walter Braunfels on repeat in my
head, cutting out the sounds of Makarov’s shrieks as the alcohol cleaned the wound of the
bacteria.

However, we knew that the alcohol’s effects won't last. Before everything we needed a place to
set up camp. The green particles from earlier turned to green fog as we walked away from the
fighting. As we walked, we saw ruins. An old cabin. The fog was dense around the cabin which
was peculiar. We approached the cabin slowly, looking around for threats or traps. There
seemed to be none. We stepped onto the porch and the wooden stairs made loud creaking
noise which was eerie. I glanced at my watch. 8:30PM. It was nightfall. Dinnertime. We
scrounged for supplies. Whatever we could find. Two bottles of water, half a loaf of bread, some
milk, a drawing book and some alcohol. I fed Makarov some bread and gave him some milk.
There was a cot in one of the rooms. I carried him to the room. I noticed the greenish grains that
made up this fog, gather little by little onto Makarov’s wound. ‘Should be nothing. I’m fine,
brother. Tell Slovensky to stop worrying so much. I just need some rest’, Makarov reassured me
confidently. He closed his eyes and passed out.

I joined the rest of the men. They had started a little fire while eating bread and drinking aged
milk. Morowitz drank his alcohol-infused milk hybrid, Aiden played his little harmonica,
Slovensky kept his hand on his knee, biting the greasy nails on his other hand out of anxiety
and taking small bites of bread. ‘Calm down, Slovensky. He’ll be fine’, I handed him a bottle of
beer. ‘How would you know? Is Martha injured right now? Huh?’ he snapped. ‘Relax. I’m trying
to lighten the mood, sucker. Cool off with a cold one’, I insisted. ‘Right. I’m sorry’, he took the
bottle and drank, still cautiously. ‘So how is it going between you two’ I asked. ‘It’s going well.
See, I have a ring but I’m not sure-’ the conversation was cut short when we heard a loud thud
in the room Makarov was resting in. We crept slowly with our weapons equipped.

The wooden planks creaked as we crouched a little. I picked up my pistol. The rest of them
equipped their weapons of choice. We turned the nob of the door open. ‘Makarov?’ Slovensky
called for him nervously. No response. Aiden opened the door. Makarov had fallen on the
ground. He was trying to get back on his cot. He was groaning and his wound...glowed green.
Slovensky stepped forward and Makarov turbed his head to see and all of us nearly dropped
our weapons.

His eyes were milky white, his mouth had rotten teeth and his face looked as though someone
had poured acid on it. One could see the flesh on his face. He didn't speak but groaned instead.
He seemed to be under some kind of spell. Slovensky cupped his mouth as tears welled in his
eyes. ‘Makarov. It's us’, I coaxed. He crawled and with shaky legs got up. His posture was
slouched with his hands raised up like a mantis’s. His legs were crossed in. The wound glowed
green and green dust surrounded him. He didn't seem to be in control. We didn't know what had
happened to him.

'I'm going for him’, Slovensky starts creeping up towards him. ‘No don't. Stop, Slovensky’, Aiden
commanded but Slovensky didn't listen. ‘This is a man I love, Lieutenant. Leave me be’, he
replied with a tone of desperation. ‘Makarov, you remember me right?’. The corpse groaned. '
Remember how we had so many days with us before we got drafted? The good times in the
storage room, the public washrooms. Remember how we looked up at the stars, drinking rum
when the camp had its occasional bonfire gatherings?’, Slovensky moved closer. ‘I want to
spend these times with you forever, my Barchen. Cherish them forever. I don't want to spend
those times and the rest of my life with anyone else because I love you’, Slovensky stuck his
hand out for Makarov to hold onto.

Makarov stepped back a little. He then lunged at Slovensky. He took hold of Slovensky’s arm
and bit his finger off, continuing to bite the rest of his fingers off. Slovensky shrieked. It all
happened so quickly. We shot him but no effect or damage was done. Slovensky pulled his arm
away with three missing fingers and fell to the floor. Makarov, groaned and threateningly
crawled towards him. Slovensky cried and shot him but no effect. Makarov bit his arm and
Slovensky let out another shriek. He then lunged for Aiden. He managed to bite him as well but
barely as Aiden managed to push Makarov away. ‘You son of a gun, Makarov. What the hell are
you doing?!’, yelled the Lieutenant. Slovensky was running a fever and began throwing up.
'Slovensky!’, Morowitz yelled.

He began shaking and shuddering vigorously as his eyes rolled up. He stopped. His wounds
glowed green as the green dust gathered onto his open wounds. He got up and groaned much
like Makarov. ‘Shit. Get more ammo. What in the world is going on?!’, Morowitz exclaimed. I
rushed to get more bullets. Another loud thud. Aiden had fallen. Sweat trickled along my face. I
looked at Morowitz. ‘I don't know what the heck is going on but we have to move, Adelard’, he
said to me. I nodded. My heart was pounding. I rushed to get more supplies. Aiden shuddered
like the rest of them. ‘HURRY UP!’, Morowitz said whilst shooting our two kamerads. I gave my
best and used everything I had learned at camp to pack and salvage all the supplies but they
were coming. Aiden got up. I got done. I took most of the supplies from my platoon’s fanny
packs and some alcohol. ' We're done. Let's go’, we made a break for it and ran so far.

There was something in the air. As we ran, we saw other corpses that shook awoke as we ran.
How many were there? The world was a blur. We ran through bushes, unable to see as the
branches swatted our faces. We ran and all of a sudden, Morowitz tripped on a branch. I fell on
him. We fell inside a giant hole, our bodies were half way in water and cobblestone was all
around. Some kind of well.

‘Shit!’, I shouted. I looked up. It was a deep well and barely any room for the two of us to move. I
tried rock climbing but none of that worked. ‘Goddammit. We didn't realise, did we?’, I punched
the cobblestone till blood came out. ‘Adelard’, Morowitz said softly. I paid no attention to him as I
began screaming and shouting. ‘Adelard!’, he called a bit louder. ‘What?!’, I demanded. ‘My
arm’, he showed it to me. It had been grazed all this time with bullets but he didn't turn sine it
was covered. As soon as he exposed it to the air by tearing cloth, green dust gathered onto it.
‘What are you doing?! Put it back on’, i panicked. ‘No. I need. To. Expose.’, Morowitz passed
out on me. I looked up at the moon teary-eyed. No way for me to climb. It looked pretty.

I put Morowitz in the water. I looked at the moon one last time. And as I'm writing this, Morowitz
is running a fever. The water has turned murky due to perhaps his innards coming out or the
sandwich he ate yesterday. I look at my clock. 12:30 AM. Still got time. I'm leaning against the
wall right now with my dead friend floating in the water, soon to turn raw. I think of Martha. I
never sent a letter to her. She misses me perhaps or must've found someone new. This is my
punishment. I choose to live my last night with my greatest regrets coming onto me. The horrors
of regret indeed. Adelard signing off.