Youth.

• Georgina Riley, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2012

They were far too unprepared for what would soon befall them. My brothers in arms were young, fearless, and far too trusting of the figures of authority. If only they could have seen the monstrous army of those savage Russian men like I had, then perhaps they would have been able to convince their seniors that they should turn around, and try again another day. Instead, they were given what could only be described as a suicide mission.
As the army of men rose over the rocky hills, peering down at the wide expanse of perfectly untouched green land that was ahead of them, I knew they were in danger. The younger, inexperienced men felt at their sides for their shiny new sabres, and wordlessly whispered into the ears of their loyal steeds, preparing themselves for what would surely be a difficult, but victorious battle. With straight backs and eyes trained ahead, all six hundred men awaited the call that would be the last that some ever heard.
The men and their horses charged towards the unknown, racing faster and faster until the massive task they had been set was revealed. The entire Russian army stood, in unrestrained, ferocious formation that displayed the immensity of the imbalance between the two forces. Despite this, the British men had fierce determination that ensured that they would not disobey orders from their superiors. The Russians assailed, and tested the bravery and honour of those countrymen.
As they rode their companions into the sheer brute force that was the Russian army, the British men used their military knowledge, knowing this was the fight of their lives. The bright glint of sabres flashed into the sky, and the two powers became indistinguishable from each other. The men knew they had to kill or be killed. As men and their horses fell to the ground in defeat, it was clear the Russians were winning the battle, which was a major modification for both sides. The undying spirit of the British, however, prevailed.
As cannons fired and flew past their heads, my brothers rode on, fearlessly carrying out their task to the best of their grieving ability. Their mothers, my mother, would be so proud of them. The detail of the combat, in my eyes, at least, was lost in the blur of the intensity of war. There were a lot of casualties, more than the British had ever expected. A lot of the Russian men were killed or injured as well.
I was pulled into an instant state of panic, as I searched the crowds of wounded and exhausted men. Finally, my eyes set on my two brothers, Jack and Alfred. They looked at each other, with tears in their eyes, and I knew what they were thinking. They were thinking about my lonesome death from the previous week. I had been thrown from my horse, and had broken my neck. I was instantly killed. I wished for my loving, once innocent brothers to know that I was looking over them; guiding them and helping them survive this pointless and deadly battle.
All of a sudden, Jackie and Fred looked up at the sky, and I knew. They knew I was up there and I was assisting them. Everything would be okay in the end.