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My Love of War, Part 2

By Surikat.

(Surprisingly, some of the historical events described here are actually loosely based on fact.)

The days that followed the uttering of that cursed word went by like a firestorm of pandemonium. I can only vaguely recall what happened. The pub I worked at, The Sultry Lion, was a bustle of activity unlike any I'd seen before. Patrons would engage in long debates about the causes, strategies, and even so much as to bet on how the war would play out. The waitress, a grey fox named Julia, appeared to be the most concerned about the events unfolding. She was a sweet girl, about my age, and was the only one there who knew my little secret. She found out one night after closing while we were both cleaning up, I wouldn't say she was upset when she discovered it, disappointed surely, but we would always have a good laugh about it after. Her concern peaked when the radio reported that all able body young men were to be drafted, that would mean her brother and it also meant me. I can say that it didn't sink in at first; the government assured us all that this war wouldn't last past Christmas. What weighed most heavily on my mind was how sexy I would look in those sharp army uniforms; but that would all change very fast.

No less then a week from the draft announcement I was on a train headed for training base Arborfield. In all my life I'd never seen my mother more afraid or concerned as she had while standing on that platform to see me off. Of course my father was now stuck in Cape Town. He felt it was too risky to travel in light of current events and the Central Powers naval capabilities; he did however telegraph his best wishes for me and encouraged me to be strong. I cried myself to sleep on that train ride; for the first time since the war began the magnitude of the things to come were starting to sink in.

Boot camp went by in a blaze, thanks in part to my physical abilities having been honed over my many years of cricket. Even by the end of training, some of the recruits couldn't do half the physical regiment that I had been able to perform from the start. My instructor would often single me out in a positive light, as an example of what the rest should be able to do. Strangely, I found I rather enjoyed this time, even made a few close friends. One in particular I grew most chummy with was Clive, a black-backed jackal from London.

Clive was a strongly built male just a year older then I and though I knew he was straight it didn't change the fact I would fantasize about him. Seeing his hot, dripping, naked body in the showers would spark a flurry of illicit thoughts. That tight, firm butt of his, followed by his paws running down his chest and over his furry sac and sheath as he washed would make my heart skip a beat. I would fantasize him taking me right there in the shower just as Adrian had done. His hard erect length and knot pulsating with every beat of his heart as I run my tongue along its pink surface, taking the whole of him into my mouth as his excitement would begin to spurt out in small rhythmic bursts. Then, teasing him near climax I back off, focusing then on his furry sac. My tongue running along those delicious cream colored orbs hanging from him, sucking on each one like candy, before focusing back on his pink. Then he pushes me over one of the shower benches and mounts me from behind, his length pounding into my tailhole with all the force he could muster. Over and over again, pumping in and out as his knot stretches me before finally tying us together as we reach climax, filling me not only with his rich seed but the entirety of his member. The thought of how whole that would make me feel, how satisfied, would keep me awake at night. On occasion these thoughts would get the better of me, I'd get carried away with myself under the sheets, enjoying in detail those forbidden thoughts. Like a silent phantom in the night, I would alleviate some of those urges while the others slept, then licking my sticky paws clean to hide any evidence of the act. Heaven forbid it was ever discovered what I was doing; such activities were strictly punished.

It was in early October when boot camp ended; I was placed with the British Expeditionary Force I Corps. I was disappointed to hear that Clive would be in the II Corps, so we spent the remaining days before our send off to our battalions talking. We discussed everything: our fears about battle, the life we wanted after the war and even some of our secrets. I confessed then about my homosexuality, and was shocked when he asked if I found him attractive, there was no way I could lie to him about it. He was actually quite flattered by that knowledge, making me feel beyond relief that he took it so well. The night before we left was spent at the nearby tavern; Clive found it extremely entertaining to coax the girls to hit on me. I played along with his game for a while until he found himself a young wolfess that distracted his attention. He left that night with her and it would be the last I'd see or hear of him again till after the war. Much to my surprise, I would also see the wolfess he left with as well. I never picture him as a family man, but time and circumstance changes a person.

That morning I found myself huddled amongst hundreds of other soldiers on a troop train heading for a deployment base on the shore of the channel. The hours droned on and with each passing kilometer my world, the one I had grown up in, slowly began to fade into a distant memory only to be replaced by the fear of an unknown realm of unimaginable horrors. I must have drifted off to an unsettling sleep because I was startled awake when the train jerked to a screeching stop at the outskirts of the base. I'd never been to this part of England before and the fog over the channel was like a thick wool blanket, I recalled then overhearing one soldier refer to it as, "The fog of war."

My company's orders came through at about noon that day. Belgium, we were to reinforce the already deployed 'old sweats', the battle hardened soldiers, who were already entrenched in the region of Ypres. Apparently they were starting to take heavy casualties by the German Fourth Army. A group of cocky bucks behind me erupted in a volley of optimistic cheers, "We'll give those Huns such a good kick to the arse that the Kaiser himself will feel it," and, "They'll be surrendering before tea time," were two of the zealous calls I remember most clearly. I wish I could have felt that optimistic, but as night fell, I could hear the earth explode on just the other side of that foggy darkness. I huddled with my Enfield that night, thinking about the world I was leaving behind.

The next three days I found myself traveling further then I had since my move from South Africa. The crossing of the strait was extremely uneasy for all of us; Rumors circulated of German ships that lurked beneath the sea which would strike without warning then vanish again, which didn't make any of us rest easier. Out of the fifteen ships in that battle group, only twelve made it to port at Dunkirk, France. From the ships we were quickly rushed into cattle trucks destined for the western front at Ypres. It was like a dissent into hell. I sat with my platoon, part of the Westminster Brigade, commanded by Lt. Bonney, a white stoat originally from the Scottish highlands whose accent was so thick his orders were regularly misunderstood. None of us liked him, he was thick skulled and dimwitted by anyone's standard. Fortunately for us, he wouldn't survive past November, to be replaced by second lieutenant Hurst. An intelligent worldly badger who was studying anthropology at Cambridge when the war broke out, he always seemed to have a witty historical reference for every battle we fought. It grew slightly annoying after a few months in the trenches but his optimism and charisma were more infectious then the dysentery.

My section comprised of eight blokes from various parts of Westminster, several whom I recognized from my sixth form school. I didn't know them personally, but I can clearly recall seeing them before. I was disappointed that Adrian didn't happen to be among them. We were lead by Corporal Garrett, an ocelot with an affinity for the Mk IV pistol. During the long hours between active battles, he would regularly practice tricks with the thing. Between the rest of the squad and I, we believed he was compensating for something. Never the less, he was a competent leader and saw us through the early years of the war.

We traveled on, through desolate countryside, for what felt like days. The closer we got to Ypres, the more hellish the landscape became. The fields of France quickly turned to the scorched earth of Belgium, the trees to charred skeletons and the roads to craters. Worst of all was the mud, all around us, like a sea of quicksand. This was the world I was to call home for the next four years of my life.

The anxiety sky rocketed inside the truck when it was announced we were less then an hour out of Ypres. One hare in the back of the truck took to the news especially bad; he spent the remainder of the ride with his head out the back, relieving his stomach of its contents till there was only dry heaving. I would have probably done the same if it wasn't for the fact I had only been able to eat a tiny bit before the trip.

Our arrival at Passchendaele Ridge near Ypres was met with an extraordinary bang: an artillery shell landed no less then 60 yards behind our truck, the blast sent us spiraling into a ditch off the side of the road. Quickly, we were ordered out. Our bodies flooded out the back like rats fleeing a sinking ship. I remember propelling myself over the side, my paw touching someone as I jumped out. It was that hare, his head missing from his body. The blast must of sent it flying somewhere into a field as he was throwing up. That would be the first of countless bodies I would find myself drowned in throughout the war.

It was mid-October now; my platoon had arrived right at the beginning of the Battle of Flanders. The whole area was chaos, so surreal that I find myself struggling to find words which could explain it. After we had abandoned the truck, we were rushed into the rear of the trench system. We passed the hospital sector, and the sights there were horrid. The dead and dying, the moans, the blood, the ghoulish doctors 'treating' the wounded with little more then saws and bandages, such surrealism that only nightmares could make sense of what I saw. Worst of all was the smell, the whole area stank of something my senses couldn't comprehend. The smell was something more then death, it was something evil.

We ran past all that, the shoots from our commanders drowning out the blasting in the distance and yet only adding to our anxiety. We knew we were close to the front when the sounds of whizzing bullets shoot over our heads while bits of mud and dirt hailed down on us. Then I saw it: the dreaded no-mans land. Never have my eyes beheld such a horrific place, our very own piece of hells' wasteland to enjoy. It almost felt that we weren't at war with the Germans, no, both our alliances were at war with this strip of land. I would have eagerly fired every round I carried into its poisoned soil if it meant I could go home.

Our section was smacked up against the parapet, between the firing steps. Even the blind could tell that every one of us was stricken with otherworldly fear; the mutt next to me was so petrified he pissed himself right there while Corporal Garrett paced in front of us, his boots making sloshing sounds in the mud that covered the duckboards. His words of motivation were drowned out by the rattle of the Vickers and shouts of soldiers, however, there were two words that stood out in his speech, "Now, Kill!" Instinctually I took to a fire step beside me and slowly peaked over the side. The enemy couldn't have been much more then 100 yards away, the tops of their helmets bobbing occasionally past the top as they ran through their trench. With my arms shaking I raised my Enfield and took aim across that dead zone. I didn't know who or what I was shooting at, but, round after round, I fired blindly at those bobbing helmets and cracking rifle sounds. Yet my efforts were always in vain. The shots kept flying by my head, the mortars blasted around me and the deafening roar of artillery behind me never ceased for a moment.

With each passing moment my life grew more and more horrible, like a nightmare where your desire to wake forces you to break down and cry. My world had just become a blur and it took the death of a leopard in the fire step beside me to wake me from the dream. His blood sprayed across my face and eyes while his body slowly slid from its perch, I swore his outstretched arm grabbed my back as he fell. I turned then to see his destroyed blood soaked face, his eyes pleaded with me for help and all I could do was stare in horror as his body collapsed into the mud with a shallow plop. I stumbled back in shock, my back against the parados as I started to hyperventilate. "Kern!" Pvt. Palmer, a level headed skunk, shouted from his fire step. "Get your arse back up here and fire! He's dead, deal with it!" All I could do was nod as I stepped over the leopards' body and back to my fire step.

The days lingered on like this, moments of intense fighting followed by eerie stillness. It got to the point where I yearned for the fighting, as those hours of silence toyed with my sanity. Every few days our platoon was pulled back to the support line for rest, if it could be called that. It was during these intervals we tried to dry ourselves of the perpetual dampness while the doctors would inspect us for lice, fleas and ticks. My fur never felt so disgusting then it did in those trenches; it was near painful at times. Once, I recall, a red fox, in a lapse of sanity, shot himself trying to kill the fleas on his body. Madness was commonplace here; it was the only thing that could keep us sane.

Back at the front lines, I was given the task of watch. Using a small periscope, I'd spend hours on end watching nothing. Occasionally I'd cache a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off the glass from the German periscope. I'd often wonder if he felt as silly as me standing there and gawking at this oblivion. It began to feel that I would spend the entire war staring into this bloody device and it wasn't until December when I was finally taken off that mundane duty. Of course, dragging ammo boxes and crates from the supply lines to the front wasn't much better.

When this war began, the High Command assured us that the war would be in its final stages when Christmas rolled around. That was a lie like none other I'd heard before. The Pope even demanded that a cease fire should be enacted during this time and our gracious leaders ignored that, purely for our benefit, of course. Yet we didn't care what our officers said, damn them all, we were going to make the most we could out of this hell for Christmas. It also was clear that the Germans had the same idea.

It was just at dusk on the 24th of December when our lookout shouted, "Lights! We got lights!". Puzzled by what the Germans were doing, a number of us peaked carefully over the trench. "I say, is that a Christmas tree?" Asked Pvt. Palmer, rather dumbfound, as he peaked over the trench line to watch the events transpiring across no man's land. Cpl. Garrett couldn't believe his eyes either. "It bloody hell is!" He exclaimed, a hint of excitement in his voice. This bustle of activity quickly attracted the attention of the rest of the platoon, including 2nd Lt. Hurst. For awhile we just watched, dumbstruck, as the Germans decorated their trenches with makeshift decorations. As dusk turned into evening the sounds of carols erupted from the German side. It didn't take us long to realize that it was Silent Night they were singing. Hurst wouldn't have any of this, "What, are you gents deaf!? We need to get caroling." There was a bit of a chuckle in the group but shortly we sang back with our own carols, Away in a Manger, among others.

Then the strangest words any of us had ever heard were shouted at us from the German side "Truce!" The english was choppy but we all heard it as plain as day. "Truce tonight!" Again they called out for a temporary truce. As our ranking officer, Hurst contemplated this highly strange predicament. "Please sir." Pleaded a rather mangy hedgehog. "They sound sincere enough." Hurst just stood there in silence and it was several minutes before he walked over to the watch step. Taking a bullhorn used to issue commands across the trench he yelled back to them. "Truce!"

We were all hesitant at first, unsure what to do next. I took the initiative this time and shouted across the field a "Merry Christmas!" I never thought those words could be said more awkwardly, but that was the spark everyone needed. It wasn't long before Christmas greetings were being shot across no man's land like bullets had been just hours before. Then, in a daring venture, there was a call by us to cross into no man's land and formally greet one another. I assumed the Germans understood for it wasn't a minute later that enemy soldiers were popping over their parapet. In the distance several shots were fired from our side however they were met with immediate shouts to cease fire. Our troops followed suit and, for the first time sense the war began, we meet our enemy face to face. What happened next was beyond mortal words.

Both sides helped gather the dead, so that finally, our fallen would have proper burials. When this was done there was a gift exchange. Everything from tobacco, whiskey, and preservatives were handed back and forth. For the first time since I arrived, I saw that there still existed a god. He finally returned from his absence to be there, on that desolate field of craters and mud, to be with those who needed him most. It was also there that I would meet Him, the one who, for the first time, I would finally feel that 'one thing' with.

It was near nine, the artillery was silent and a number of us started up a game of football using an improvised ball. A rather robust squirrel from another platoon helped gather both sides together for it, though he insisted on butting heads with a collie from the German side as too the scoring rules. I sat on an empty ammo crate and watched the spectacle unfold. It was the most entertainment I'd seen in a long while and it was at this moment when I first saw him, standing only a few meters away.

He was a lanky German meerkat, my age, with the cutest slim tail that had a handsome brown tip. I walked over to him but before I could say a word, he greeted me with a, "Merry Christmas." His english was near perfect with only the slightest hint of Germanic accent. I replayed back with my own merry Christmas, then remembering the chocolate I carried with me from my ration, I handed it to him. He thanked me repeatedly for the gift and quickly handed me his own present, a fresh bar of soap, too me however it was gold. It must have been over three week's sense last I'd seen soap. I immediately invited him over to sit with me to talk. I was deathly curious about his excellent english and soon found out his name was Nikolaus Helmick, he had spent much of his younger years in Manchester before returning back home to Salzgitter two years before the war. He was now part of the German Fourth Army in an Erdmannchen division or simply "meerkat" division. The German military used their kind for trench construction and maintenance, their natural adaptation for digging made them the best for this job. I could clearly see why, his paws had unusually long claws that would be perfect for digging into the soil. Five of our men with spades couldn't work as fast as one meerkat with just their paws.

We chatted on well into the next hour about whatever crossed our minds; family, jokes, our interests. I was pleasantly surprised to hear he use to play cricket while in England, though not to the extent I had, we discussed our exploits to great length. Then I dropped the big question, "You have a girl waiting for you back home?" Almost immediately I could sense a change in his composure, he became terribly uncomfortable with the question. "No... no, I... just never had time for socializing. It just wasn't something that interested me." He replied hesitantly, his voice quivering slightly from nerves. My heart skipped a beat when he said this. I'd heard that before, I'd used the same excuse when the others asked me that question. "I know exactly what you mean..." I muttered softly as I placed my paw on his leg, instantly I felt his fur through the trousers stand on end. He looked innocently down at my paw then back to me, our eyes locked and I knew all that I needed. We both smiled, knowing full well that we both held the same secret. Nikolaus leaned in close to my ear and whispered a few words before giving me a quick lick. Grabbing his wrist I knew immediately where to go. I lead him back to my sections' part of the trench and into the back of the forward ammo storage, it was the driest place in the trench, just enough light from a lantern to prevent any awkward moments between us, and had enough crates blocking the front that no one passing by could see in. Not like I was afraid about that, with the cease fire in place and most everyone fraternizing in no man's land, the trench was mine and Nikolaus's.

Once inside we were upon each other with a flurry of kisses and licks. Yes, we were dirty, our fur riddled with fleas and caked with mud, yet we didn't care. This would be our night and no one would take it away from us, not Churchill, not the Kaiser, not even hell itself could intervene. Throwing politics and fear aside, we lost ourselves in our cravings for one another. In a fury of embracing, I sat him up on a larger ammo crate that set perfectly for both of us to meet eye to eye. I immediately began to relieve him of his jacket and undershirt, tossing them atop another crate. His boyish body was beautiful, my paws tracing his muscles under his soft tanned fur as our mouths locked in deep kisses. His nimble hands work my trousers till I was exposed; my length having long left its sheath, glistened with the sweat of the day. He took me into his paws, mindful of his longer then average claws, and worked my pink and knot with ravenous lust as I sucked hard on his ears, neck, and nipples. The scent of his musk was as sweat and intoxicating as the strongest of liquor, and I drowned in it. Quickly I then kneeled down and undid his boots, throwing them aside before undoing his trousers and yanking them off with a quick pull. He sat there, on that create, exposed to the world with only a coy smile on his lips. He spoke a word to me in german, I couldn't understand it but that didn't matter, we were past language. Our bodies were all we needed to speak with. I then leaned up against him, pushing his back against the stack of crates as I kissed his lips, our tongues tying and dancing between our mouths while a paw worked his partially erect member. I kissed his neck, his chest, his belly, and then kissed my ultimate goal. I buried my muzzle in his lap as my tongue lapped at his member, sending delightful shivers throughout his body, as I wallowed in the mild taste of his now oozing excitement. He grabbed at the spot on my head between the ears, his claws pricking into my skin as he clenched hard. His body squirmed as I took the entirety of his length into my mouth, my tongue wrapping around his slender pink as I bobbed up and down in his lap. All he could do was moan and squirm as my mouth controlled him, my paw now clenching his furry sac which squeezed them with every bob of my head. I heard his breath become a pant and I knew he was close, but I wouldn't let him get off that easily. Slowing my pace I licked a few more times at his pink then sucked on his sack before raising back up and giving his muzzle a loving lick.

I went about taking my own boots and trousers off; I balled them up and tossed them besides Nikolaus's garments. I looked around then till I spotted what we needed; gun oil. I'd never used it on myself but, I remember overhearing a group of wolves speak about how they'd use it to masturbate with during the long hours at night watch. Nikolaus questioned me about it and I reassured him that it would work, least I hoped it would; he knew all too well what I had planned. He grinned with delight as he slouched himself on his perch, his tail hanging down to the side as he exposed his delicate pink tailhole for me. It was beautiful to behold, his hard pink, furry balls and delicious pucker for me to enjoy. Walking back to him I lubed my member up with the oil, it was extremely slick yet it didn't burn at all, much to mine and most definitely Nikolaus's delight. I squirted another few drops onto his tailhole, lathering it in and around with my fingers, his mouth emitting murrs of pleasure as I explored him.

Positioning myself in between his open thighs, I teased his tailhole with the tip of my cock, poking at it before backing off and running it over his balls and length. His tail twitched and swayed with anticipation and delight. Then guiding myself with a paw, I carefully pushed my length into his pucker. Nikolaus wrapped his arms around my neck as I slowly penetrated him. He winced slightly from pain but I reassured him with gentle licks over his forehead. He bit on my neck as my member took him to the knot, as he wrapped his legs around my waist I began to pump into him, careful that I didn't force my knot into him before he was relaxed and ready for it. We embraced like this, our bodies joined as one entity, till thoughts of the war outside were miles away.

My paws clenched his ass in a flurry of thrusts, and I lifted him from his perch, carrying him in my arms for a brief moment before setting him down on a row of crates. Releasing his grip from around my shoulders, Nikolaus fell back against the wood, his mouth uttering inaudible words as I took him. His paws reached out to seek grip only to scratch into the dirt wall beside him and wood under him. Hoisting myself up onto the crates with him, I positioned Nikolaus's legs over my shoulders as my hip drove into him, filling him as deep as I could go. His tail met between my legs and embraced my own as our lips met again. As my thrusts became harder and harder I could feel him begin to overtake my knot as I built towards climax. Then with a few more deep thrusts, we tied, and the quick bite to the shoulder from Nikolaus was all I needed to bring me over the edge. I erupted, months of bent up frustration spilling into him. I feel atop him, panting, as we embraced. He licked my cheek then looked into my eyes and that is when I realized what that one thing was, the thing that separated lust and love. The moment felt perfect with the gentle glow from the lantern bathing his face and dark eyes, I licked his dark nose and smiled then resting my head beside his we rubbed cheeks till, suddenly Nikolaus pushed me up with a quick thrust of his arms.

We practically rolled off the crates, the tie preventing any separation, yet before I could react, I found myself on my back with his legs stranding my hips. His paws pinning me down, then with a devious smirk, he began rocking his hips back and forth. The bobbing of his erect pink bouncing up and down as he grinded mesmerized me. Dribbles of fluid spat on my chest from his member as he rode me, dominating me, I lent myself to his will in that moment. By all accounts we were enemies but I knew the feelings we shared transcend nationalist pride and orders, I felt safer with him then in the deepest trench.

I began to jerk him as he rocked back and forth; he sat back as I did this and rolled his hips, a paw resting on my thigh to support himself while his face stared up to the dirt covered sky, his body washed over with pleasure. His hips rode my length while his thrusts fucked my paw, I gripped tighter around him as I felt his body beginning to tighten around me, my free paw gliding up and down his back before gripping his ass. His moans became louder and faster as climax approached, then with a spasm of insurmountable pleasure, his length erupted with a gush of rich milky white seed and I opened my maw to eagerly await a taste of him. The force behind it sends the first few waves over my head but the following gushes land on my face and tongue, much to my delight. I greedily swallow it, savoring the salty musk on my palate. As he spurt out the remaining waves of seed on my stomach, he collapses on me, much as I had done. With his head resting on my chest, I cuddle with him till my member relaxed enough where he could finally pull himself off. My length pulled out of him with a satisfying wetness, much of my spent seed following out. We both murred with delight at the sensation of our separation, Nikolaus reached under his tail to feel the slickness then enjoyed my taste on his fingers.

We lay down beside one another, holding each other tightly. The sent of our musk filling the dank room, overpowering the oil and gunpowder and resting heavily on our noses. As the early morning hours approached, sleep began to overcome us. I watched as Nikolaus succumbed to it, he was peaceful as he drifted away. It was amazing to see, I knew for the first time since he arrived in this place that he was sleeping without worry or care, no nightmares would haunt him this night. As I too began to submit to exhaustion, my last bits of consciousness were filled only of his sweet peaceful face.