The Australian Spirit

• Jacqueline Paroissien, Grade 8, Irrawang High School
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

Bombshells drop, the dirt beside me catapults up, my heart jumps and my breath hitches with anticipation of the next explosion. Hoping desperately that it won’t be the last thing I see. Beads of sweat trickle down my forehead, wrinkled with stress and anxiety. The sweat settles in my eyebrows, the short hairs becoming clogged with a mixture of mud, dust and sweat. My chest constricts with every breath, fear controlling my mind and body. There’s a reason they call it no man’s land.
The mud squishes beneath my large shoes, coating the black leather with the mixture of soil and rain, small stones lodge themselves in the grip of my boots. My legs seem to carry themselves across the battlefield, back to the safety of the Australian trench, my camo uniform stained with mud and the dried blood of others, innocent others.
I hurl myself over the barrier made of dirt and stone, and into our safety. In that moment I’m flying. Time almost slows to a pause and I can see people running towards my sailing body, worry creases in their eyes, concern lacing their facial features. A ripping pain ripples through my chest, just above my highest rib is where the pain abounds from.
Burning. Burning is all I can feel. Burning through my body, burning through my mind. My “flight” is very short lived as I’m soon hit with a harsh reality. That reality being the cold ground. More men, I never learnt their names, they were part of the newest shipment. I was cold to them, but now, they’re surrounding me, helping. In this moment, I know, this is real Australian spirit.