War
I wake up and try to take a deep breath, but the deeper the breath the more severe the pain. The ground is hard beneath my back, and I feel a dull pain in my arm… I slowly pull myself up from the muck. I can feel the rumble of artillery falling around me as I make my way to the lip of the shell hole. I look about and see nothing but dust and dirt as the earth heaves into the sky. Like a roiling ocean it sprays its contents into the air with each successive eruption. Suddenly it is soundless. I drag myself up once more and begin to hobble... to where I cannot say... I look at my arm and notice the shell fragment protruding from it, it has cut into my side as well, puncturing my lung. I wince with pain as I pull my arm away from my side, and drag out the sharp piece of metal. I pray that I die soon.... I have seen wounds such as this, and have seen the men writhing in pain, while slowly dying from infection. I sit by on the stump of an old oak tree. I take out my flask and take a long swig of whiskey... It slowly starts to dull the pain. I look around at the field in which I sit. This war.... what is the point of it all?
No comments:
Post a Comment