All In

part 17

claus·tro·pho·bi·a
klôstrəˈfōbēə/
noun

extreme or irrational fear of confined places.

•••

the travel was rough, moving quickly but hidden the whole time, as they approched dedicated territory, shells falling everywhere and huge holes littered the loose earth, where bombs had fallen.

there was no gun fire, and it made even the officers nervous, anxiety laced through teeth and floating among shoulder straps.

harry gripped his collar, pulling his shirt up higher. the material chaffed his neck, the weight pulling him down and the blisters forming on his feet.

they were closer to the front lines than they knew, and made it in only an hour walk. they got to the entrance of the bunkers, men filtering in quickly, some beginning to panic and fall into mental states of shock, others taking a deep breath and marching forward.

niall was six people in front of harry, and he marched through with no issues seen, while harry slowed down slightly seeing the cramped area around him that would be his home until either he died or the war ended.

the walls of the narrow mud hallways were thick with moisture, insects clinging and the mud soaked. it had rained in the night, soaking the quarters. there were small hallways attached to the main path when walked through, leading to rooms inside the mud.

harry felt small in the damp, compact area, and tried to feel more his size while he searched for niall, who had disappeared from his sight at the entrance, which was a slide into the tench having only one step in.

he got lost in the mud hallway, still carrying his bag with him, as he stumbled along in search for the boy, and rounded a corner, careful not to fall on the boards scattered all over the ground, when he looked up and stopped dead, before quickly launching himself backwards and hidden from the turn he was just in.

removing his helmet, he stuck his head just around the edge, peeking until his eye finally passed the edge, where it widened and focused on the pistol aiming in his direction.

two officers stood in front of nine prisoners, both pointing revolvers at the group, while two other officers stood behind the group, weaponless in hand, but wearing all their battle work.

the officers in the front motioned for the group to climb a latter up the trench, and harry was uncertain why, until the men were all stood in a line atop the mud hallways, looking down at the officers. one was crying. there was a split second where the hidden boy saw a swastika on every man of the group's chests, a patch, but no larger than a bottle cap, and the men wearing british uniforms.

it was an execution.

germany shot, killing their own dressed in lies, and the officers turned around.

"welcome to your new home, boys."