Gallipoli

• Samuel Mazzotta, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2018

Gallipoli


BOOM! CRASH! “MOVE IT!” I’m terrified, people are falling already. As we move forward, it gets harder and harder. Grenades are being thrown and guns are being fired. I hide behind a gigantic rock near a trench, ready to run.
“THREE, TWO, ONE . GO, GO, GO!”
My heart pumps like the sound of 100 washing machines, all in the same tiny room. I run faster than I ever have before. I slide into the trench with relief, but it’s not over. Not yet.


I stand up and see a machine gun pointing my way. It thunderously shoots, I duck as quickly as possible, but not quick enough. I got shot in the shoulder. “HELP!” I cry out. I see a Medic rush to me. He grabs his tweezers and a lighter and holds his tweezers over the flame of the lighter, then blows it out.
“This might hurt a little.”
“AHHHHHH!” It hurts as much as it did when it went in.


“Here’s your bullet.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me just stitch your shoulder.”
“GRENADE!”
He grabs my helmet, heroically dives towards the grenade, puts my helmet over the grenade and stops the explosion from hurting anyone. He finally comes back to finish my shoulder.
“There you go.”
Just as he finished, the Commander shouts, “ON MY COUNT WE GO. THREE ,TWO ,ONE. GO,”
We are almost at the Turk’s base. I run like there is fire on my bum. I don’t look back.
I turn a corner. A Turkish soldier stares at me with a gun in hand and screams.