Excellence Award in the 'Write-Along 2018' competition

As the bullet hole boat pulls up to the shore,
I couldn't move I paused,
We got the order from Sarge
So we went on the charge.
The boat ramp closes,
As the 44s paint the beach as red as ripe roses,
The cliffs too tall to climb,
But the guns don't stop their ringing chimes.
We pull up camp on the shore,
I sit down and think what more?
As I take a seat,
I gaze upon the fleet.
The beautiful mixture of oranges, pinks and blues make a glorious sunset,
The horrors of today I try to forget,
I was and I am full of sorrow,
From the fears that the day I die might be tomorrow.