GT one shots

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Shit this so so sad but so good. I'm crying wtf Ashley

By UGHlashton

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Desmond always believed there was a God. He knew there was a God. He read the Bible more times than most people ever thought was possible, memorized every passage, every word.

Joshua 1:9

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Desmond wasn't foolish, there was no God here.

So much screaming, so much blood coated the ground like a thick layer of paint spread across the beautiful earth. The ringing in his ears of a fired rifle reminding him of the choir of Satan's Hell.

Desmond had a job here, keep people alive. It was easier said than done.

His heart thudded frantically with fear and adrenaline against his pocket Bible. He truly believed he was in the presence of Satan.

"Medic!" A strangled screamed escaped one of the fallen soldier's chapped and bloody lips. Desmond shifted his helmet, ducking under piles of dirt as bullets whizzed past his head.

"I'm coming!" He yelled, sliding over to a man, who was groaning and moaning in despair. His shoulder had been shot as blood oozed from the wound. Hastily, he grabbed gauze from his pack and pressed it against the wound. Using his other hand, he grabbed the man's hand and placed it firmly on of the wound. "Hold it down!"

A bomb exploded somewhere near him. Screams followed.

Desmond scrambled to his feet, crouching as he ran towards the fallen soldiers, pressing fingers to their neck in vain search of a pulse.

He found none.

Feeling despair for only a few split moments, he moved on the next one. He got more luck this time as the man howled in pain, tears rushing down his cheeks as half of his leg was blown off.

"Alright bud, you're okay, we'll get you looking good as new, okay?" Pulling a secure tie from his belt, he tied it to the stump of a leg to stop the bleeding. The man grimaced, biting his lip harshly as Desmond pulled on it tightly, securing it.

Grabbing the man's waist, he hunched down and lifted the man to his shoulders before carrying him back.

The ground was slick with the thick blood of his fallen neighbors, causing Desmond to slip every once in a few steps. The man was heavy on his back, pushing him down and leaving him vulnerable as his friends shot bullets to cover him.

Desmond set him down, watching as other medics whisked him away, back to safety he could only hope. He wiped his brow, his hands covered in red while shaking.

Was there some reason they were doing this? Sacrificing their friends and family for what? Money? Power?