Young Writers Society

The Smell of Victory.

“Smell that boys? Now that is the smell of victory.” The Sergeant and his four remaining soldiers all inhaled deeply.

“Gas,” Samuel said, raising an arm so that he could cover his mouth with the grimy sleeve of his patch-work uniform.

“Gas?” Lawrence asked, inhaling again to see if he could discern the smell within the air. After deciding that indeed he could, he made a note in a small, black book.

“Gas. There’s always gas!” Daniel Tailor grumbled, tugging a heavy mask over his youthful features and throwing himself to the ground.

“Gas masks on, this way boys!” With that, the remaining soldiers covered their faces and dropped to the scarlet field, gulping deep breaths of air as they followed their sergeant. The men, if they could be called that, crawled through a field damp with blood, sweat and last night’s rain towards the enemy trench.

“Shouldn’t we go the other way?” Lawrence asked, awarded with a third mouthful of gas and a coughing fit that sent more tears scorching trails across his dirty cheeks.

“For God’s sake, Lawrence, where’s your gas mask?” the Sergeant demanded.

“He left it at our trenches, sir,” Jack said.

“Oh so that’s why he wants to go back,” Daniel sniggered.

“That’s enough,” the Sergeant said. He wriggled a little further through the filth and peered over the top of the enemy trench before dropping in. Just as expected, the men they’d recently killed were slumped in heaps of mud, half buried a short distance from a small crater where they had previously stood.

“What now, sergeant?” Jack asked, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the sound of gun-fire, explosives and Lawrence’s violent coughing.

“Switch uniforms; and make sure you get one of their gas masks, Lawrence,” the Sergeant commanded.

“With them filthy corpses?” Daniel asked, glaring with disgust at the torn, muddy, blood splattered fabrics wrapped around the bodies.

“That’s an order Lieutenant. Let’s just hope that there’s enough of our men down to make a likely scenario.” The soldiers reluctantly obeyed until there were four enemy soldiers and one General – “That’s awfully ambitious of you, Sarge,” – standing in a valley of death. A brief body count revealed that there were twelve of the enemy down and six soldiers and a sergeant from the ‘other’ side.

“Likely scenario indeed. We killed more than that and lost fewer men,” Daniel grumbled.

“And so we should in a surprise attack. How in hell did Benderson and Scaper end up in the trench?” the Sergeant asked.

“I think they were planting mines, sir,” Samuel said.

“Mines? But mines weren’t part of the plan!” The Sergeant threw his arms above his head in frustration and gesticulated wildly as his rant faded to a sequence of unpleasant expletives.

“Where did they plant the mines?” Jack Mathews asked, wetting his dry, cracked lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Standard procedure is to plant mines at the front of the trenches,” Lawrence said, making another note in his small, black book with the stub of a pencil.

“Sarge. Hey Sarge!” Daniel snapped, motioning for the men to move back, away from the trench wall.

“Yes? Oh yes, I see. Good call lieutenant.”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Samuel asked.

“We blend in until we have a chance to go back over the top. In fact, Lawrence just got promoted.” The sergeant unpinned the enemy general badges from his acquired clothing and gave them to the dark haired man whose deep, brown eyes were now hidden behind a gas mask. Shaking a little, Lawrence attached them to his uniform and saluted, receiving a similar action in response.

“Their badges aint worth buttons and brass. Got to be a pretty big crime too; impersonating a Southerner that is,” Daniel said in a harsh, grating voice with just a touch of outrage and more than a dash of envy.

“I’m honoured but why me Sarge?” Lawrence asked, ignoring the lieutenant.

“See that Southerner weaving his way through the trenches? Well he speaks in Southerner code and he will be expecting his general to respond in the same manor. Our scholar here…” The sergeant’s words were drowned out as an explosive was launched from a neighbouring trench, just out of sight. By the time the Sergeant and his men had reclaimed their upright positions, a Southerner of about fifteen years was crouching in the trench beside them.

“Feneram Oricf.” The boy saluted and then drummed his chest, both expression and features disguised by a layer of grime. How fortunate that the Sergeant and his men were hidden behind similar masks.

“Vhau Mewt?” Lawrence asked.

“Fooe Mewt. Shf Morthernert zrf qetreatinh. Xov zne xous qegimenu zrf sp keae z einam bhargf. Rp rayt shf jinh.” The boy took out a small scroll of parchment and Lawrence nervously broke the seal, scanned the page and then nodded.

“H geas zne nbez.” The boy saluted and drummed his chest again before hurrying away.

“Well?” The sergeant took the piece of parchment and then crumpled it in his fist when he realised it was written in code.

“The Northerners are retreating and we’re to lead a final charge,” Lawrence reported.

“When” The sergeant asked.

“Now,” Lawrence said. Silence.

“Orders, Sarge?” Daniel prompted. The sergeant remained silent a moment longer and then let out a mournful sigh.

“Come on boys, there’s no other option. When we reach the other side, our side, we turn and fight.”

“And what if our men fire on us?” Daniel pulled at his looted uniform.

“Better they kill us than we kill them,” Jack said. The sergeant nodded and Lawrence called out ‘Bhargf!’ before they set off at a run towards the other trenches. Samuel was the first to die – he slipped in the sweat and blood filled mud and the many pairs of heavy, steel capped boots trampled his body; neck and spine crunching under their feet. The other men forged on and the Southerners eagerly began to fire their guns at the retreating Northerners who turned and returned fire. A bullet ripped through the sergeant’s shoulder and he leaked blood like a ruptured balloon loses air. Then a second bullet took Jack in the chest. For a moment he ran on, propelled forward by the other soldiers and a frantic adrenaline until suddenly he collapsed, all but his outstretched, twitching arm on enemy territory.

Daniel screamed in anguish and raised his gun, open firing on the other Northerners. Three fell before the sergeant smashed his head open with the butt of his gun.

“I’m sorry,” the sergeant said. He turned and sent a spray of bullets into the mass of Southerners before he too was killed by one of his allies; shot in the back by a Northern man.

Lawrence froze. He could not bare to kill a Northerner but neither did he turn on the Southerners. Soon the battle was done. Corpses were laid like a blanket across the field and less than fifty men remained, grouped behind their wise and loyal general.

“Smell that boys? Now that is the smell of victory,” Lawrence whispered.

“Feneram? General?” A Southerner asked, the second word seeming foreign on his tongue from lack of use. Lawrence turned, his hand closed around an object, fingers caressing the bumpy surface. He strode further into the centre of the group amidst cheers. He began to smile, a manic, nervous smile that stretched his gaunt face. And then he pulled the pin.

Shrapnel, fragments of fabric and tender flesh hung in the air beside the stench of gun-powder. That boys, that is the smell of death.

Hey Kitty. ^_^

“Gas masks on, this way boys!” With that, the remaining soldiers covered their faces and dropped to the scarlet field, gulping deep breaths of air as they followed their sergeant.

It’s not immediately clear who’s speaking here, as immediately prior to this you have four different character’s talk. Although I can deduce from the content that it’s probably the Sergeant, you’re making me work needlessly, which slows down the reading.

I’d recommend a speech tag (eg. The Sergeant said.)

“Better they kill us than we kill them,” Jack said. The sergeant nodded and Lawrence called out ‘Bhargf!’ before they set off at a run towards the other trenches. Samuel was the first to die – he slipped in the sweat and blood filled mud and the many pairs of heavy, steel capped boots trampled his body; neck and spine crunching under their feet. The other men forged on and the Southerners eagerly began to fire their guns at the retreating Northerners who turned and returned fire. A bullet ripped through the sergeant’s shoulder and he leaked blood like a ruptured balloon loses air. Then a second bullet took Jack in the chest. For a moment he ran on, propelled forward by the other soldiers and a frantic adrenaline until suddenly he collapsed, all but his outstretched, twitching arm on enemy territory.

This feels very rushed for the climax of the story. It’s so much shorter than the lead-up, and leaves me feeling rather unsatisfied. My (personal) advice would be to expand on this, to really give a sense of chaos and fighting.

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Other stuff:

Remember, ‘said’ is your friend. Using different ‘said’ words to many times weakens prose, and I think you may have over done it a bit.

You have: said, then asked, then grumbled, then asked, then demanded, then said, then sniggered, then said, then asked, then commanded, then asked, then grumbled, then asked, then said, then asked, then said, then snapped, then asked, then said, then asked, then asked, then reported, then asked, then said, then prompted, then said, then said, then whispered, and then asked.

Typically, you want the vast majority of your speech tags to be ‘said’, although you may be able to get away with using ‘asked’ a lot too. More unusual ones - demanded, commanded, snapped, etc. - should be used sparingly, and only when they are absolutely needed (ie. they have a large effect on the reader’s understanding of what is being said).


Consistency - you alternate between using ‘Sergeant’ and ‘sergeant’. Same with the other titles military titles. Pick one way, and stick to it throughout the story.

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Anyways, I enjoyed this. Your writing style throughout is good, although your dialogue sometimes gets bogged down by the various speech tags you use. In particular, I liked the ending - Lawrence’s suicide - which I found chilling.

Good work. ^_^

-- Sureal

Good story. I was a bit confussed with a serg. giving a lietenant orders, but it was a good story overall.

Pretty interesting. At first I thought this was a ww1 story since you talked about trench warfare, but I found out before too long. Overall it was pretty good, but wouldn't the gas kill the guy without the mask? If not, why use it?

I liked this. Don't have that many suggestions, but watch out for repetition. For example, here:

The Sergeant and his four remaining soldiers all inhaled deeply.

With that, the remaining soldiers covered their faces

Maybe drop 'remaining' in the second example.

The bit where there was the boy speaking in another language, was is necessary having it all written out? It's rather long, and as it's not clear upon reading it what the meaning could be, maybe you could leave this out? It comes across as rather pointless to include it.

I agree with Surreal about using too many different 'said' words.

I also agree the battle at the end does seem rushed and needs expanding. The build up to this is much more developed. You just need to bring the ending up to the same standard.

"The Smell of Victory.

“Smell that boys? Now that is the smell of victory.” The Sergeant and his four remaining soldiers [s]all [/s]inhaled deeply.

“Gas,” Samuel said, raising an arm so that he could cover his mouth with the grimy sleeve of his patch-work uniform.

“Gas?” Lawrence [s]asked, inhaling again[/s] inhaled sharply to see if he could discern the smell within the air. After deciding that [s]indeed[/s] he could, he made a note in a small,(don't think you need the comma) black book.

“Gas. There’s always gas!” Daniel Tailor grumbled, tugging a heavy mask over his youthful features (this sounds a little strained. Maybe just try "down over his face")and throwing himself to the ground.

“Gas masks on,(I'd make this bit of dialogue two sentences) this way boys!” With that, the remaining soldiers covered their faces and dropped to the scarlet field, gulping deep breaths of air as they followed their sergeant. The men, if they could be called that, crawled through a field damp with blood, sweat and last night’s rain towards the enemy trench. (I love this last sentence)

“Shouldn’t we go the other way?” Lawrence asked, awarded with a third mouthful of gas and a coughing fit that sent more tears scorching trails across his dirty cheeks. (I'd add "for his efforts" to the end of this sentence)

“For God’s sake, Lawrence, where’s your gas mask?” the Sergeant demanded. (As has been mentioned, I'd cut demanded. Maybe just have the Sergeant doing something to show that it's him talking.)

“He left it at our trenches, sir,” Jack said.

“Oh so that’s why he wants to go back,” Daniel sniggered. (Again, you use said, sniggered etc a lot. I'd cut down, as it takes from the flow.)

“That’s enough,” the Sergeant said. He wriggled a little further through the filth and peered over the top of the enemy trench before dropping in. Just as expected, the men they’d recently killed were slumped in heaps of mud, half buried a short distance from a small crater where they had previously stood. (I can't quite explain this, but I think this paragraph is a little weak. I couldn't really see or feel it. Maybe try to horrify the reader more, and look at the reactions of the men.)

“What now, sergeant?” Jack asked, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the sound of gun-fire, explosives and Lawrence’s violent coughing.
(nice)

“Switch uniforms; and make sure you get one of their gas masks, Lawrence,” the Sergeant commanded.

“With them filthy corpses?” Daniel asked, glaring (I think glaring is too much. Maybe try "looking" or add an action to show his disgust.) with disgust at the torn, muddy, blood splattered (think you have too many adjectives here.) fabrics wrapped around the bodies.

“That’s an order Lieutenant. Let’s just hope that there’s enough of our men down to make a likely scenario.” (Think "a likely scenario" is too formal or something here.) The soldiers reluctantly obeyed until there were four enemy soldiers and one General – “That’s awfully ambitious of you, Sarge,” – standing in a valley of death. (nice)A brief (maybe try "quick") body count revealed that there were twelve of the enemy down and six soldiers and a sergeant from the ‘other’ side.

“Likely scenario indeed. We killed more than that and lost fewer men,” Daniel grumbled.

“And so we should in a surprise attack. How in hell did Benderson and Scaper end up in the trench?” the Sergeant asked.

“I think they were planting mines, sir,” Samuel said.

“Mines? But mines weren’t part of the plan!” The Sergeant threw his arms above his head in frustration and gesticulated wildly as his rant faded to a sequence of unpleasant expletives.

“Where did they plant the mines?” Jack Mathews asked, wetting his dry, cracked lips with the tip of his tongue. (Good description)

“Standard procedure is to plant mines at the front of the trenches,” Lawrence said, making another note in his small, black book with the stub of a pencil.
“Sarge. Hey Sarge!” Daniel [s]snapped,[/s] [s]motioning [/s] motioned for the men to move back, away from the trench wall.

“Yes? Oh yes, I see. Good call lieutenant.” (Think "oh yes, I see" is too mild. Maybe add an action instead between the first yes, and "Good call.")
“What’s the plan, sir?” Samuel asked.

“We blend in until we have a chance to go back over the top. In fact, Lawrence just got promoted.” The sergeant unpinned the enemy general badges from his acquired clothing and gave them to the dark haired man whose deep, brown eyes were now hidden behind a gas mask. Shaking a little, Lawrence attached them to his uniform and saluted, receiving a similar action in response.

“Their badges aint worth buttons and brass. Got to be a pretty big crime too; impersonating a Southerner [s]that is,” [/s]Daniel said in a harsh, grating voice with just a touch of outrage and more than a dash of envy. (Think this is too poetic for what you're describing)

“I’m honoured(comma) but why me Sarge?” Lawrence asked, ignoring the lieutenant.

“See that Southerner weaving his way through the trenches? Well he speaks in Southerner code and he will be expecting his general to respond in the same manor. Our scholar here…” The sergeant’s words were drowned out as an explosive was launched from a neighbouring trench, just out of sight. By the time the Sergeant and his men had reclaimed their upright positions, a Southerner of about fifteen years was crouching in the trench beside them.

“Feneram Oricf.” The boy saluted and then drummed his chest, both expression and features disguised by a layer of grime. How fortunate that the Sergeant and his men were hidden behind similar masks.

“Vhau Mewt?” Lawrence asked.

“Fooe Mewt. Shf Morthernert zrf qetreatinh. Xov zne xous qegimenu zrf sp keae z einam bhargf. Rp rayt shf jinh.” The boy took out a small scroll of parchment and Lawrence nervously broke the seal, scanned the page and then nodded.

“H geas zne nbez.” The boy saluted and drummed his chest again before hurrying away.

“Well?” The sergeant took the piece of parchment and then crumpled it in his fist when he realised it was written in code.

“The Northerners are retreating and we’re to lead a final charge,” Lawrence reported.

“When” (question mark) [s]The sergeant asked[/s].

“Now,” Lawrence said. Silence.

“Orders, Sarge?” Daniel prompted. The sergeant remained silent a moment longer and then [s]let out a mournful sigh[/s] sighed.

“Come on boys, there’s no other option. When we reach the other side, our side, we turn and fight.”

“And what if our men fire on us?” Daniel pulled at his looted uniform.

“Better they kill us than we kill them,” Jack said. The sergeant nodded and Lawrence called out ‘Bhargf!’ before they set off at a run towards the other trenches. Samuel was the first to die – he slipped in the sweat and blood filled mud and the many pairs of heavy, steel capped boots trampled his body; neck and spine crunching under their feet. The other men forged on and the Southerners eagerly began to fire their guns at the retreating Northerners who turned and returned fire. A bullet ripped through the sergeant’s shoulder and he leaked blood like a ruptured balloon loses air. Then a second bullet took Jack in the chest. For a moment he ran on, propelled forward by the other soldiers and a frantic adrenaline until suddenly he collapsed, all but his outstretched, twitching arm on enemy territory.

Daniel screamed in anguish and raised his gun, open firing on the other Northerners. Three fell before the sergeant smashed his head open with the butt of his gun.

“I’m sorry,” the sergeant said. He turned and sent a spray of bullets into the mass of Southerners before he too was killed by one of his allies; shot in the back by a Northern man.

Lawrence froze. He could not bare to kill a Northerner but neither did he turn on the Southerners. Soon the battle was done. Corpses were laid like a blanket across the field and less than fifty men remained, grouped behind their wise and loyal general.

“Smell that boys? Now that is the smell of victory,” Lawrence whispered. (good)

“Feneram? General?” A Southerner asked, the second word seeming foreign on his tongue from lack of use. Lawrence turned, his hand closed around an object, fingers caressing the bumpy surface. He strode further into the centre of the group amidst cheers. He began to smile, a manic, nervous smile that stretched his gaunt face. And then he pulled the pin. (This is a great paragraph)

Shrapnel, fragments of fabric and tender flesh hung in the air beside the stench of gun-powder. That boys, that is the smell of death." (good powerful ending)"

This is very good Kit. I like the dialogue and the pace. I think you could make the atmosphere more disturbing, and maybe alter your tone in parts to make it less poetic. Try to unsettle the reader deeply.

Hope this helps.

Jas

Thank you so much everyone!

Sureal - Thanks for the tips, I'll alter some of my speech tags and try to expand that section.

Araidne - Good point. There was a reason for it but after reading it through, I've realised that was very unclear so I'll have to either change the ranks or bring that it more.

mikedb1492 - Some forms of gas are weak enough that they need relatively long term exposure before they have much affect and the gas wasn't actually aimed at them but you're right, my only purpose in using it was to give the characters a bit of personality and show their different reactions so I may change that part.

Heidigirl666 - I did think of removing that section... what they're saying can be worked out but I doubt anyone reading it would actually try so you're probably right.

Jas - Thank you for such an in-depth critique! I'll use it as the base for my re-write.

Nice story, and it has an original plot too.

I couldn't find any errors, so forgive me if I just overlooked them.

It's executed perfectly, and I think you did a great job.

Yours truly,
Memento Mori