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The sound of a rooster woke Karl, the young lad rising up from his bed. He rose off of it, smoothing his hair down and going outside to wash his face off. He went to the chicken coop to collect the eggs and as he returned home he was quite confused as to why he did not see either his mother or his father yet. 

Assuming they went down to the local market, so he shrugged and stepped outside of the yard to see if the cart was travelling by today. He saw one further down the road with men by it, so he went back home thinking that he still had about ten minutes before it rolled up and he'd step out to buy from it whatever his parents wouldn't buy at the market. Maybe a little more, there were a lot of men there after all. 

He went out back to milk the first cow, carrying the bucket aside as he thought he had taken a little longer than he expected and decided to hurry outside to still catch the cart. He stopped by inside to grab some coins before once again rushing out of the yard. 

Yet... the cart was still there? Karl was very confused, and decided to go up the rode to see what was up. The lad walked along the street trying to whistle a tune, until he saw that one of the figures by the cart was his father. He hurried over, hearing the distinct sound of one of the radios in the village. "Papa, what's happening?" he queried, approaching his father. The man was very distraught, looking to the radio and then back to his son with his lips not willing to frame the vile words. "Papa?" Karl said again, dread rising up from his stomach. "Papa?" 

"War's been declared lad." One of the other men replied. "The Germans have attacked, they're perhaps an hour from here. We're all going to the front." Karl's father shook his head, trying to frame some sort of apology for something that wasn't his fault but words couldn't really form. Karl's entry into the scene had perhaps broken the men out of a shock, and they all went upon the cart to go to the local barracks as the radio directed.

Karl much like his father had completed his military training in the past, but right now the memory was so distant. Women cried and crossed themselves and the leaving men-folk, before going inside to pack their things and go further into the country. Time passed, and Karl knew he was further than he had every been from home. 

[i]I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die God I do not want to die[/i]

They came to the barracks, and were greeted by and elderly man Karl knew. "Victor." Karl's father said, nodding to his old friend. The man waved back, and directed the men into a line with a pen, inkwell and paper in his hands. After someone helped him find his glasses that he dropped Victor at last began taking names one by one of men who were here to volunteer. Another boy, Karl's age ran off but two men ran after him and after a short kicking pushed him back muttering insults along the lines of "coward." The line shifted on, as did the lips of the men present. "How far are the Germans? How many are there? Why are they attacking?" Questions circled, but they weren't answered as men were handed uniforms, and then rifles with stripper clips. German Gewehrs, ever so ironically. 

Weapon in hand, they formed a column and so marched to the front. None of the men on the cart would survive the next day. 

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