“A Russian plane?”
Şehsuvar did not answer immediately.
The black shape grew clearer as it moved across the gray clouds.
“It could be an Ilya Muromets,” one of the soldiers said. “The wind may have blown it off course. Or there could be something wrong with the engine.”
But Şehsuvar felt that something was wrong.
The plane had wings like an eagle, but the shape of its body was too strange. When the pale sunlight pierced the clouds, he could see something like a membrane stretched between the frames of its wings.
The thing did not look like any machine he had ever seen.
It looked more like a living creature.
Without realizing it, Şehsuvar raised himself higher to get a better look.
“Get down!”
Someone shouted.
But his curiosity made him too slow.
That tiny movement was enough to draw the sniper's attention.
Şehsuvar knew what would happen if a bullet struck his head.
Instant death.
But there was no shot.
Instead, the thing in the sky passed directly in front of the clouds.
That was when Şehsuvar saw it clearly.
Its shape resembled a bat.
Then a strange sound shook the sky.
Not the whistle of a bomb.
Not the roar of an engine.
Not the sound of artillery.
It sounded like the scream of a wounded animal.
Şehsuvar covered both ears.
The soldiers around him panicked.
One of them suddenly tried to climb out of the trench.
“We have to go home!”
Several of his comrades immediately pulled him back.
“Don’t!”
“I want to go home!”
He raged like a wounded bull, kicking and striking anyone who tried to hold him back.
Şehsuvar had seen something like that before.
The pressure of war sometimes destroyed a person's mind before it destroyed the body.
A man who had been a soldier moments earlier could suddenly forget that he was on a battlefield.
He only wanted to go home.
Even if he had to cross through enemy fire to do it.
The creature's scream from the sky continued for several moments.
Then the thing disappeared toward the west.
Everyone fell silent.
They held their breath.
Not long afterward, an enemy reconnaissance plane appeared from a different direction.
This time, they needed no explanation.
It was a bad omen.
Şehsuvar immediately leaped down onto the firing step.
“Take cover!”
The other soldiers followed him.
Mehmet switched places with Ahmet at the firing slit, then came over to Şehsuvar.
“I don't like seeing that.”
“Yeah.”
“What was that thing?”
Şehsuvar stared toward the sky, now covered once more by clouds.
“I don't know.”
Mehmet was silent for a moment.
Then he said softly,
“You think... that's what Karakoncolos looks like?”
Şehsuvar turned toward him.
Before he could answer, a roar shook the ground.
Russian artillery began firing.
The first explosion struck the ground not far from their trench. Mud and stones flew through the air.
The Ottoman cannons and howitzers stationed at the second camp immediately returned fire.
The sky filled with smoke.
The smell of gunpowder spread through the air.
On the slope behind them, the mortar troops and infantry prepared to face the Russian attack.
The sound of the artillery drew closer.
The first explosion felt distant.
The next was closer.
Then closer still.
Şehsuvar tightened his grip on his rifle.
Something was wrong.
That bad feeling had not gone away since the black thing emerged from behind the clouds.
Now he felt as though the entire battlefield were waiting for something.
And that something had not arrived yet.
Then a sandbag was hurled right in front of his face.
An explosion struck the trench.
Earth and stones rained down from above.
A large hole opened in the side of the trench, collapsing part of their defenses.
“Run!”
Şehsuvar and his comrades scattered.
They leaped over the hole like rats chased by a cat.
The next artillery shell struck the ground in front of them.
The world turned white.
Then it went dark.