I Remember

• Amy Langdon, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

I Remember

The shattering impact of a nearby bomb echoed in my head, accompanied by cracks of gunfire as bullets whistled through the sky, piercing bodies of the innocent. Brave men that had stood by my side as we charged from the barrage into the blast of the German Infantry, now lay lifeless on the ground around me, with few standing accepting their responsibility of being belligerent.

I crouched, frozen in fear behind a barricade of destroyed homes. The dirt and dust that had been disturbed by the bombs, now began to settle on my uniform. My proud country’s emblem, now smeared with the mud of the ground around me.

I closed my eyes, my head resting against my concrete support. My cowardly thoughts were clouding my ones of bravery. I knew this was my responsibility, my duty. Yet my fear of losing what I had, strangled me like chains, trapped in this cage of cowardly thoughts and actions. By accepting the duty that called me, I was to lose the ones I loved.

I remember my beautiful wife, her lustrous blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and her cerulean eyes that I could loose myself in for an eternity. I remembered the way her lips would look as my name rolled off her tongue, how her eyes would sparkle as she laughed. I remember the day of our wedding, the way she kicked of her heels and danced barefoot in her wedding dress, the ring upon her finger and her hair falling from its place. I remember our vows, the promise of our eternal love and our only separation be if death do we part.

I remember my daughter, so innocent and young, so energetic and beautiful. I remember the day she learnt how to walk, although she stumbled, she made it all the way to my open arms. I remember her fifth birthday, all she wanted was to be a princess and dance with her father. I remember how proud she was of me, the way she smiled when she was told that her daddy was going to be a hero.

And for this I sit in silence, the memories flowing through my head at the speed of the bullets that encompass my sanctuary. I was her hero. The noises of the battlefield and the screams of death faded to the distance.

I remember the day I left, the beautiful smile on my daughter's face and the sadness in my wife's eyes. As I left that day, I had made no promise of my safety, I had made no promise of return, my only promise was that I would do what was right.

As I clutched my lee-enfield .303 to my chest and felt the spare magazines in my ammunition pouches, I remembered for one last time, the smile on my loved ones faces, before I leapt from the safety of the wall, into the relentless gunfire.

So for one last time…
I remember.