(I made some changes to part 1)

Infinitus Mors

February 20^(th), 1916
Close to midnight
Verdun, France

Henri Durand shivered in the cold, standing by a makeshift brazier. He was a member of the French army, and on guard duty. He peeked over the trench, into no-man’s-land. No-man’s-land is the area between trenches, and it was littered with barbed wire, unexploded bombs, and the bodies of fallen soldiers. Going into there was practically suicide. Machine gunners tore down every man that dared to go over the top.
Henri was a part of the biggest war humanity had ever seen. After the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the world was torn apart in a brutal war.
Henri didn’t see anything worth noting in no-man’s-land, but he only looked for about two seconds; a sharpshooter might see Henri’s helmet and shoot him. He tightened his blue coat and tended to the dying embers of the brazier. He noticed his fellow soldier walk up to him and say, “Hey, Henri, your guard duty’s over. Go get some rest.”
“Merci. Stay safe.” Henri grabbed his rifle and walked towards the dugout to go to sleep. He set down his rifle and closed his eyes…

February 21^(st), Around 7:00 AM

BOOM!
Henri awoke to a loud explosion. He grabbed his helmet and rifle and ran to cover. He peeked outside. Henri’s former guard duty spot was now just a pile of rubble. He hoped that the guard who took his place wasn’t buried under all of the debris.
Then, another barrage of artillery came. BOOM! BOOM! Henri thought this was his last day on Earth. The explosions just kept coming and coming. One shell was all it took for the bunker to collapse on Henri and his comrades. He heard the endless cries of the wounded outside the bunker, and Henri wanted to rush out and save them. But he knew it was immediate death if he went out there. Henri covered his ears and tried to tune out the screams and explosions.
What felt like days passed of this endless artillery strike. The ground shook like an earthquake. But then, there was a pause. A sweet, little pause in the carnage. Henri thanked God.
But this grace was short-lived. 
He heard another shell land nearby, but instead of an explosion, it was a dull pop. Henri wrinkled his nose. There was a smell… like hay… musty hay. He noticed a quiet pattering of feet outside the bunker. Henri grabbed his rifle, readied it, and started walking towards the exit to the bunker. His face was smothered in sweat and soot. The French soldier in front of Henri started coughing aggressively. He clutched his throat, face pale. Henri stumbled backwards, watching the man wheeze.
Then, Henri knew what had happened. “Gas masks!” an officer commanded. Henri rushed to put on his M2 respirator as the poor man slowly asphyxiated in front of him. His face frozen in shock, foaming at the corners of his mouth.
A man drowning on land, God help us all, Henri thought. He noticed a rip in another of his comrade’s mask. His eyes filled with panic as he started coughing and stumbled outside. CRACK! A bullet rang out and the man slumped on the ground.
Henri realized the Germans had been waiting outside for them. Henri immediately grabbed a grenade and tossed it outside. Once it exploded, a ragtag group of about five soldiers –Henri included– rushed out and charged the Germans. They encountered a squad of eight German soldiers standing above their trenches. Henri and his fellow combatants fired, and so did the Germans. Two of the French soldiers died and four Germans did too. Henri knew that if the Germans reloaded first, the French would be dead in a single volley. He looked into the eyes of his fellow soldiers and they knew what to do.
Henri attached his bayonet and leapt over the trench with the rest of the French group. One German was already struck in the chest, fatally, and so was another. But Henri miscalculated his thrust and it barely missed the German. In response, the German pushed Henri and tackled him into the trench. He put Henri in a chokehold while trying to push off his gas mask.
Henri had to do something, anything to get him off. He groped the muddy floor of the trench in search of a weapon. He reached for his knife, but it was too far away. Henri’s vision was getting blurry and his gas mask was almost off. But then, Henri miraculously found a sharp rock. He swung and slammed it across the German’s face, causing his gas mask’s straps to fly off. Henri couldn’t tell if he was dead or unconscious, but he didn’t care. He didn’t feel human. He relied purely on his instincts. It felt unnatural.
Like an animal.
Since the gas had settled, he took off his gas mask and took a breath of fresh air for the first time in a while. Henri learned that the other French soldiers had taken care of the Germans and, for the most part, were unharmed. Also, while he was in the brawl with the German, about 30 more French troops had found their way to Henri’s trench.
But Henri didn’t get a lot of time to regain his senses, though. An officer didn’t hesitate to round up troops to rush the German trenches. To go over the top, into no-man’s-land. 
Henri was one of them.
Henri and the remaining soldiers gathered up against the wall of the trench and waited for the very thing that might kill them. The officer’s whistle. It sends thousands of innocent men to die. Henri muttered a quick prayer, clutching his rosary until his knuckles were white.
The sharp whistle echoed through the trenches. All of the men clambered over ladders and ramps onto no-man’s-land.
German machine gunners opened fire on the advancing French troops. Henri watched as his friends were stopped in their tracks, torn down by a shower of bullets. He dove into a crater to avoid some of the fire and wait for the gunners to reload.
Henri noticed a pause in the carnage and took his chance. He leapt up and continued sprinting. Henri heard loud booms in the distance. They got closer and closer. The artillery has started again! Henri cursed audibly. He could see the German line from where he was. “I’m so clo-”
BOOM!
Henri was tossed into the air and slammed on the ground as his world went black…

To be continued… 

Attrition
February 20^(th), 1916
Close to midnight
Verdun, france

Henri Durand shivered in the cold, standing by a makeshift brazier. He was a member of the French army, and on guard duty. He peeked over the trench, into no-man’s-land. No-man’s-land is the area between trenches, and it was littered with barbed wire, mines, and the bodies of fallen soldiers. Going into there was practically suicide. Machine gunners tore down every man that dared to go over the top.
Henri was a part of the biggest war humanity had ever seen. After the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the world was torn apart in a brutal war.
Henri didn’t see anything worth noting in no-man’s-land, but he only looked for about two seconds; a sharpshooter might see Henri’s helmet and shoot him. He tightened his blue coat and treated the dying embers of the braziers. He noticed his fellow soldier walk up to him and say, “Hey, Henri, your guard duty’s over. Go get some rest.”
“Thanks. Stay safe.” Henri grabbed his rifle and walked towards the dugout to go to sleep. He set down his rifle and closed his eyes…

February 21^(st), Around 7:00 AM

BOOM!
Henri awoke to a loud explosion. He grabbed his helmet and rifle and ran to cover. He peeked outside. Henri’s former guard duty spot was now just a pile of rubble. He hoped that the guard who took his place wasn’t buried under all of the debris.
Then, another barrage of artillery came. BOOM! BOOM! Henri thought this was his last day on Earth. The explosions just kept coming and coming. One shell was all it took for the bunker to collapse on Henri and his comrades. He heard the endless cries of the wounded outside the bunker, and Henri wanted to rush out and save them. But he knew it was immediate death if he went out there. Henri covered his ears and tried to tune out the screams and explosions.
What felt like days passed of this endless artillery strike. The ground shook like an earthquake. But then, there was a pause. A sweet, little pause in the carnage. Henri thanked God.
But this grace was short-lived. 
He heard a quiet hiss outside. Henri wrinkled his nose. There was a smell… like hay… musty hay. He noticed a quiet pattering of feet outside the bunker. Henri grabbed his rifle, readied it, and started walking towards the exit to the bunker. His face was smothered in sweat and soot. The French soldier in front of Henri started coughing aggressively. He clutched his throat, face pale. Henri stumbled backwards, watching the man wheeze.
Then, Henri knew what had happened: lethal gas. “Gas masks!” the officer commanded. Henri rushed to put on his M2 respirator as the poor man slowly asphyxiated in front of him.
A man drowning on land, Henri thought. He noticed a rip in his comrade’s mask. His eyes filled with panic as he started coughing and stumbled outside. CRACK! A gunshot struck the soldier's head. The man slumped on the ground.

The Germans had been waiting outside for them.
TO BE CONTINUED…

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