Lest We Forget.

• Kirsty Cady-bogg, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2015

I watched as the first line charge into battle, guns in hands, screaming a war charge as loud as their wary voices could. The Turks shot them down immediately, giving no time for these brave men to think, a hefty silence replaced the chaotic sounds of war and the blood curdling screams of the falling wounded. Boys lay dead all around me, blood staining their uniforms a median crimson and their half corpse bodies lying at awkward angles, with unseeing eyes remaining open. I pray to God to let me come home.
I miss my family, I didn't know this would happen if I signed up. But I still have the same motive, I have to make my daughters future the best I can. Hopefully she’ll marry a nice man, have a family of her own and remember why her father died. Then there’s my gorgeous Rose who was there for me though our love is young, it will live till man is wiped from the face of the earth and our stories are lost to the stars alone.
The second line gets ready, they leave their most prized belongings in the ditch, it’s now I realize I’m not going to make it home to my family, it’s now that a white hot fear grasps me and threatens to encase me in itself forever, it jeopardizes to destroy me, it’s now I know my fate. The second line’s demise is identical to the first. Without a thought the Turk’s murdered swiftly and meticulously at first I think it’s brutal but then I remember I have done the exact same thing and am preparing to do it again. I will not give these monster pity or remorse but they are only human. As I reach the ladder and put down a picture of my daughter a tear slithers down my cheek, dampening the layer of dirt crusted on my skin.
The whistle blows and I sprint with my gun in hand, up the ladder and onto the field. Men fall dead all around me, their anguished yells will be indented in my memory, for however long it last. I run until my lungs are on fire and the smoke burns my eyes. Gunpowder is strong under my nose and the smoke clots the sunlight turning the battle field even dimmer. When I’m what seems to be feet away from the Turk’s ditch I get shot. Pain surges through me seeping into my soul. The gunfire stops again, the edges of my vision become blurry. The pain slowly loosens, or perhaps I’m getting used to it. The worst part is that as I lie here dying I know I will never be able to witness the joy of fatherhood at its full force. I feel my blood gushing out of the wounds and slowly the world collapses into darkness, I picture my beautiful wife and daughter with their heavenly smiles and reach out towards them. This image gives me solace.