Glancing over to Charlie again, he was now closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. He looked pale, weak and scared.
“Are you alright Charles?” I said to him with a concerned voice.
“Not really, I’m scared. The last battle was a bloodbath. I was shot once in the arm. Fortunately it wasn’t to fatal. That made me see war in a different prospective; it’s a cruel way to die!”
We were sitting in the trenches; it was filthy! There was: rats; mud; wrappers and decaying bodies. We were all cramped.
It was now 07:30 am; we were expecting the enemy to arrive anytime soon. Everybody was peering over the trench looking and listening for any sign of danger.
“Look! There coming from the north!” someone screamed. Everybody now turned their attention towards the incoming adversary.
“Guns at the ready!” The sergeant bellowed.
“FIRE!” He screamed at the top of his voice! There was rain dropping rapidly. Bullets being shot in every direction. I could hear my heart pounding. I could smell decaying bodies. I could see people falling to the floor. I could taste the bitterness. I could feel the cold chill running down my back.
A war zone is an area in which military combat takes place, an area where tears of sorrow and blood of brave soldiers are shed. A war is going on, people of anguished cries. The remaining soldiers drenched in rain. They begin to writhe on their hands and knee’s, towards any form of shelter from the constant bombardment of shells. The adversary moves in. The fire of shells becomes more rapid. Men are falling. Suddenly, Charlie climbs out of the trench and runs towards the enemy.
“Charlie! Come back!” I pleaded. He continued to run. I quickly climbed over the trench and ran towards him. He wouldn’t stop. We were in no-mans land. I stopped. He was shot in the head three times. It seemed as if there was a deafening silence. He was lying in a puddle of mud. Everything was in slow motion. I felt sick. I ran towards him but slipped in the mud. I began to writhe across the battlefield towards Charlie. I lay on top of him, crying. I couldn’t believe he would as stupid as to throw his life away.
I climbed to feet and charged the adversary! I wasn’t thinking; my mind was set on the just pulling the trigger. Tear were running down my face. Suddenly I began to feel heavy. I reluctantly fell to the floor, mud splashed up to my face. I had been shot in my leg. I felt cold; I could only hear my heart slowing down. I found it hard to breathe, I was gasping for air. My grip on my gun began to loosen. My eyes felt heavy. There was blood everywhere: blood of soldiers; blood of bitterness; blood of remorse.
