Hauntings Of War

• Annie Hara, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

Sergeant John withdrew the cigarette that had been tightly pursed between his lips, exhaling a noxious whiff of smoke. The particles twirled in a mesmerising manner, releasing an obnoxious odour. The Sergeant was oblivious to the pungent scent, his gaze fixated upon the enemy. The devilish howls of the firing machine guns had struck a sense of terror and hesitancy within the soldiers. A deafening silence soon followed. A feeling of dread crept upon him, paralysing every muscle within his body. John’s mind was flooded with thoughts of fear; irregular heartbeats hammered against his chest as his mouth ran dry. The ruthless gusts of wind were like a bloodthirsty, ravenous beast, engulfing the expansive battlefield. His legs collapsed and weakened before the merciless gales, colliding against the snowy terrain. The Sergeant grabbed the whiskey flask from his pocket and chugged it down, quenching his thirst. “I’ll show ‘em,” muttered the Sergeant in a barely audible voice as he scrambled back to his feet.

Unanticipated, enemy gunfire unleashed a thunderous noise of thirst for blood, snapping the Sergeant back into reality. The approaching bullets filled every inch of the air, bursting open the chests of his fellow comrades. There was no escape, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Few soldiers attempted to outrun the bullets but were devoured by the wrath of the roaring machine guns. Sergeant John took cover behind the ruins of the trench walls. As the attacks progressed, the Sergeant’s ears fell victim to the exploding grenades. Unable to hear, the Sergeant’s hands slid over towards his ears. He could feel the warmth of blood trickling through his fingers and a forceful, throbbing sensation causing him to experience an unendurable pain.

The land had become strewn with dead bodies of a defeated army, laying silently and without motion. A nauseating stench arose from the rotting corpses, that had been deserted to a forcible encounter with an agonising death. Few had survived the fury of war. All was momentarily silent, once again. Mustering up his courage, the wounded Sergeant dragged himself out of the ruins and across the terrain. He tightly grasped onto his rifle and approached closer towards the enemy and his destined fate; death. Blood seeped through his wounds and onto the snow, enclosing him in a pool of his own blood. Unable to hear, and with a burning sting in his eyes, the Sergeant was unaware of the presence lurking behind him.

As the figure approached closer, the Sergeant noticed a shadow from the corner of his eye. He swiftly turned over on his back, pulling out and aiming his rifle toward the enemy soldier. The soldier removed a dagger, slicing the throat of the Sergeant. Sergeant John pulled the trigger and shot his rifle, releasing a bullet aimed directly at the figure’s neck. Blood exploded out of the enemy’s neck as the bullet pierced his flesh. Sergeant John had annihilated the enemy soldier with a single shot before meeting his own untimely death.