We don't take off our shoes - short story

We don't take off our shoes

In the trenches among rats and ammunition, under the lights of fire and the sounds of planes bombing, and sleeping in narrow corridors.. We slept on the shoulders of our colleagues.
In the arms of hell and the putrid smell.. My friend, on whose shoulder I slept yesterday, I might die at his hand today by friendly fire, and I will forgive him and pardon him.
I carried a picture of my family members.. Everyone had souvenir photos, which were more precious to us than gold. When we collected the dead bodies to count them, we would find some photos and unsent letters in the pockets.

We got used to living with death and it got used to us.. We no longer felt fear or terror, we were the elite whose hearts had hardened and they became living dead.
The war did not prevent us from humming some tunes and sharing singing and reading.
On a clear night and the shooting stopped.. We were eating some canned food for dinner.. While I was on duty on top of the watchtower, I saw the lights of the village looming from afar, death was chasing us one after the other and I wanted to say goodbye to Sofia.. For the last time.
I left the watchtower and did not inform any of my colleagues.
I reached the forest and started walking between the dense trees, I got used to seeing in the dark. I kept walking for a few kilometers.. Until I reached the village.

While I was walking around the village, I saw a flyer on the lampposts inviting me to attend a concert. The invitation was general.. For anyone who wanted to attend.
I did not care about the concert, but what came to my mind was, would Sofia be at the concert or at her house.. Sofia's house was in the south of the village and the concert was in the north. I had to determine my direction before the commander in the trench knew that I was absent.
I made up my mind and headed to her house.. I stopped at the well in the middle of the village to drink some water and while I was sipping the water.. I saw a little girl holding a doll in her hand, walking towards me.

The pitch darkness hid her facial features, as she slowly approached me.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of firecrackers, I raised my head from the well and looked at the sky and saw the source of the fireworks coming from the north, I knew that the concert had started.
The little girl approached, stood next to me, I looked at her and saw the blood covering her face, she sighed a sigh preceded by crying and the fireworks lit up the sky.
I wet my hand with water and wiped the blood from her face, I hugged her and asked her: Where are your parents?
She didn't answer my question.. She held my feet and refused to leave me, I held her hand and headed north.. Maybe her parents were at the concert.
I looked back from time to time towards Sophia's house.. I missed her so much but I wouldn't leave the little girl alone in the deserted village, the voice of conscience was stronger than the voice of my heart at that time.

We arrived at the concert venue, the fireworks were still lighting up the sky. I entered the farm and didn't find anyone.. So I headed to the farmhouse, I opened the door slowly, the house was dark so I decided not to enter it, maybe the villagers had gathered in the backyard of the house.
The little girl left my hand and didn't continue walking.. I went back to her and asked her: What's the matter?
She pointed with her finger.. I looked at the place she was pointing to and saw the dead bodies filling the yard.
It was a mass massacre of all the villagers.
I was used to seeing the dead.. But I never imagined that Sophia would be one of them. I started searching for her among them, the numbers were huge.. Men, women and children.

The little girl kept crying while I searched and didn't find Sophia.. I carried the little girl on my shoulder and ran quickly towards the village.
I reached the village with difficulty and did not stop for a moment until I reached Sophia's house and did not knock on the door.. I broke it.
I heard a groaning sound, I looked at the child and found her calm, I headed towards the sound until I reached the bedroom.. The sound stopped then, I looked under the bed and saw Sophia, she was hiding, scared, her face was pale as if she had seen a ghost.
I held her hand and hugged her.. Then we left the house with the child.
I did not know where to go.. So I headed to the trench.. While we were walking in the forest, Sophia stopped walking, she was in pain.. I asked her: What's wrong?
I forgot my shoes - she said
So I took off my shoes and gave them to her.
I heard the sound of artillery fire.

I was close enough to see the trench glowing with heavy fire, so I did not get any closer. I carried the child and held Sophia's hand and turned my back to my colleagues and returned.
At that moment I knew I bore the stigma.
The trench fire was behind me, the village of the dead was in front of me, an orphan girl was on my shoulder, Sophia and the stars were in the sky.
I heard a voice coming from the forest.. I headed towards the voice and saw the leader bleeding profusely leaning on a tree trunk, suffering in silence.. I left Sophia and the girl and went to him.
He was breathing his last and spoke with difficulty saying: What are you doing here?
I told him: I was heading to the trench to help my colleagues
He said: You are a liar.. I might believe that you dropped your weapon or helmet, but you are not wearing your shoes.. and we do not take off our shoes

He took out his pistol and despite the noise of the machine guns and the sounds of the planes dropping.. That bullet was loud, it was the bullet of mercy.