Chapters 6 & 7 in the “Hunger” Series

Chapter 8

“Well, I think the whole situation is verruckt, fucking crazy.”  Horst crossed his arms and sulked in the back of the American deuce-and-a-half truck as it bounced along the road back towards Ornel.

Burkhardt rolled his eyes.  “Of course you do.  You’ve always been a complainer.  Do you know that?”

“Jah,” Rudi nodded impatiently.  “You’ve never been satisfied with anything the entire time I’ve know you, Horst.  What is the problem anyway?  I thought the whole idea was to surrender to the Amis or the Tommies and sit out the last few weeks of the war.  Well, we have and we’re still alive.  Mission accomplished!” (more…)

What do the dead want?  To the most casual observer to any apocalypse concerning the dead getting up and walking around, the usual answer is mindless hunger, just a dead body re-activated by a virus that propagates itself endlessly.  And I suppose they’re right, of course.  But there are always two sides to an argument, even if one side can’t articulate its statements anymore beyond the odd groan.  But what is hunger?  It’s a need, an imperative, a want.  And what is love if not the same thing? (more…)

All chapters in the “Hunger” series

Chapter Six

Horst was the first to open fire into the oncoming crowd of Ornel’s former inhabitants. The round from his K98 Mauser slammed into the throat of an limping, groaning man and whipped his head back like it had been hit with a board, spinning him partially around. But within seconds he had turned towards the makeshift barrier blocking the road and continued his advance. Burkhardt glared at him. “Dumpfkoff! Scharfuhrer Dietl told you to aim for the head! We’ve only got a few rounds between us!”  (more…)

Hue Citadel, Republic of Vietnam.

May, 1968.

I’m not going to deny it. I absolutely love this shit. Tim Page said it best when he told some REMF reporter asshole back in Saigon, “Some folks had happy childhoods. The rest of us had Vietnam.” Truer words were never spoken. This place is hotter than hell, malaria is everywhere, the bugs are everywhere, and you can’t trust a goddamned soul when it comes to the locals. Our own government is supporting the most corrupt pile of sonsabitches that ever drew breath, but to tell you the truth? Hell, I’d rather be here than covering some jive-ass assignment back in the World.   (more…)

All chapters in the “Hunger” series

Chapter Four

“It’s no use. The bastard thing will nae start!” Martin gave up trying to turn the jeep over. The engine was thoroughly flooded and his frantic attempts to start it again had only made the situation worse. “Sergeant, we’ve got to get out of here. If you can’t get the jeep started, we’re going to have to run.” Reuter again looked through the field glasses. The approaching throng of people wending their way out of the tiny village of Ornel was gradually growing closer, now less than 100 yards away.

“Are ye daft, ye fookin’ tosser?” Clive yelled from the back of the jeep. “I’m nae hoofin’ it! They’ll back off once I put a few warning shots from the .50 across them.” To demonstrate, Clive fired off a rapid burst from the .50 caliber. The slugs impacted into the ground directly in front of the mob to no discernible notice. They continued to press forward, the entire crowd moaning in an unearthly chorus. As they drew nearer, the grisly wounds of each person seemed to magnify before the two British and two German soldiers sitting in the jeep. (more…)

CHAPTER 2.

As the dawn broke, 65 year old Klaus Goddard walked with his cows back to the milking barn on his meager farm. Morning chores would not wait, war or no war. 1944 had been a hard year, particularly with so much of his crops and milk production being diverted away for the war effort. It had been so much harder after the Allies landed in France and began pushing the Wehrmacht back. It seemed inconceivable to Klaus that things could become so unraveled. If anything, 1945 appeared to be much worse. He sighed tiredly. Things had been like this back in the Great War too. It was a vicious cycle, it seemed. (more…)

The artillery barrage had gone on seemingly forever. Hans and Reuter had long ago given up any notion of hearing anything beyond the pounding of the approaching wall of American 105 mm shells. The landscape looked like some cratered imagining of the moon the two men had seen in picture books when they’d been boys. It was clear that Wessel was no longer going to be in German hands for much longer. The two men communicated by hand signals, pointing themselves in any direction which would take them away from the Ami’s relentless bombardment. Running away held many dangers though. Both men knew all too well what would happen should the Feldjaeger find them. Those Fepo bastards were too damned eager to string up anybody caught going in a direction other than the fighting. (more…)