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"Normally, we would have to send you to the Officer candidate school." General Brukenthal told Douglas. "But given your outstanding service, I see no other option than to promote you to the rank of lieutenant." Douglas forced a smile, and gave a salute to the general.

"I won't let you down, sir." He said through gritted teeth. It had been four years since this war with the West had started, and Douglas had been drafted into the royal army. He thought that he could just fake his death, and sneak back home. His luck, however, was arguably against his favor. "By your leave, general." General Brukenthal smiled at Douglas.

"Dismissed."

'Great,' Douglas thought as he walked away. 'the first enlisted man to be directly promoted to an officer, and it's not even something I want.' As Douglas made his way to his tent, Sargeant Healy rounded the corner.

"Douglas!" He called out. "How did it go, old chap?" Douglas held out a new silver collar device that the general gave him. "No." Healy said as he examined the metal decoration.

"Yes." The two friends continued towards their tent.

"You know, it can't be all bad." Healy said, somewhat cheerfully. "Now you can get your own command."

"I don't want a command, Healy. I want to go home to Autumn. We were going to start a bakery together before all of this, but I can't seem to get out no matter what I try." Healy recalled the first time him and Douglas had tried to desert. It was a half way decent plan. Just sneak out after nightfall, and head back home. However, in doing so they accidentally came across a western encampment, and had no choice but to engage. After two hours of fighting and close calls, they took the entire camp and got promoted to Sargeant. Healy accepted the promotion, and decided that he would stay, but Douglas didn't. He soon upgraded to faking his death.

The first time he tried that avenue, they had managed to capture a Westerner who looked just like him. The soldier was very sick, so it would just be a matter of waiting for him to die, so he could put the corpse in his place and go home. This started to take too long, so Douglas decided to poison the captive. He had mixed a poisoned powder with whiskey, accidentally compounding a medicine which cured the young man. This got him promoted to master Sargent.

On the third attempt, he planned something breathtakingly elaborate. He was to steal an articulated skeleton from the med tent, and put it in a truck wearing his uniform. After driving a few miles away, he would get out, and let the truck run down a mountain. After which, the truck would burn, and leave nothing but a charred skeleton with his name on it. However, on execution the skeleton fell out of the truck half way down. Instead of exploding, it ran straight into yet another western camp that they didn't know about, which was harboring a dangerous spy. Which now left him at the rank of lieutenant.

"I'm tired." Douglas said. "I'm just going to serve my term, and I'll be out after four years." Douglas crawled into his bunk, and pulled the blanket over himself. "Who knows, maybe I'll like it." As he settled in, the bunk bed creaked and collapsed with Douglas still in it. He let out a great cry of pain as he looked down at his very broken leg.

Two weeks later, a young woman with long dark hair was making bread dough in the eastern countryside. She missed her husband greatly, so she baked to pass the time. She then noticed a cloud of dust on the road, with an ambulance ahead of it.

'Oh god.' she thought. 'My Douglas is dead." She ran outside to meet the ambulance as it pulled up to the little cottage. General Brunkenthal stepped out of the passenger seat as two medics walked to the back of the ambulance.

"Mrs. Munroe?" He asked.

"I am she." Autumn said. "What happened to my husband." The general removed his cover.

"I am General Brukenthal, mam. Your husband bravely served the kingdom, but unfortunately he was greatly injured." Brukenthal presented a paper to Autumn that made her blood run cold.

"Mrs. Munroe." She read aloud. "It is with great sorrow that we must inform you, that on September 3rd 1944, your husband had an accident resulting in his leg being broken shortly after being promoted to lieutenant. He is currently being delivered to you." She sat confused for a moment. "Wait." She asked "He isn't dead?"

"Do I look dead?" A familiar voice came from behind the ambulance. Autumn ran over to see her husband with a cast on his leg, being helped by the two medics. She kissed him, throwing the medics off balance slightly. After stopping to take a breath, Douglas smiled. "Boy, do I have a funny story to tell you."

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Submitted by F1600A on Mon, Jun 05, 2023 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

When the king's army drafted you, you planned on faking your death in battle and waiting for a chance to return home. You were so good at fighting that you never got the chance and just kept getting promoted.