As I walk along the battlefield, delivering a message to my captain, I scan the ground around me. There are massacred and mutilated bodies, some burned to blackened heaps by flamethrowers. Skulls crushed on the ground, and bodies with faces contorted in sickening pain. They are all dirty and wrecked, some I can hardly distinguish from the decimated landscape around them. These, these are the young men who smiled at the thought of the adventure of war, who cheerfully waved to their mothers goodbye, confidently promising to be home before Christmas. These bodies I find, never more than seven feet apart, are what is left of those lively young men. I have watched horrors beyond imagining. Today, on this very field, we were charging from a trench. My friend leaped out of the trench, only to be beat brutally by a German soldier. He shot and killed the soldier, and was immediately torched by a flamethrower. I think his body is over there, by that bloodstained rock with the deformed body lying over it. This war is worse than any nightmare I could ever conjure up. About a week ago, the Germans used mustard gas, I stood, shocked, horrified beyond belief, as some of our troops, unable to retrieve masks in time, tripped and stumbled, gasping and hacking, choking for a breath of something other than the terrible poison that had been released upon us. As I watched this, there was suddenly gunfire, as the Germans, equipped with gas masks, approached, killing those of us lucky enough to survive the gas. Then they started the flamethrowers, and the thick air, which was difficult to see through, was brightened for us, so that we could see those who were still choking on the gas, and watch more of our own being torched and shot. Of course we fought back, but they had the advantage, and we lost that trench, only to gain it back today. This is not what we signed up for, we all joined this horrific war for the adventure of our lives, not to have imprinted into our minds the freakish and inhuman torture inflicted upon those on the battlefield. I know what this message I am delivering holds. I of course did not read it, as I am not supposed to, but the one who gave it to me to deliver to my captain stated as he handed it to me, “Here, deliver to your captain the good news that all is going well on your front.” Now, as I think back on those words, I wonder how he could say that all is going well. Perhaps we are pushing the Germans back more than they are pushing us, but let him spend a day on the fronts that hold these horrific inhuman tortures, and he will see that, no matter the outcome of this war, nothing went well. The truth is, this war is ######, and none of us will make it out alive.
Edited by Jowm, Jan 09 2012 - 06:52 PM.