For The Nation

• Zara Wagner, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2009

Guns in hands, determined and yet expressionless faces, courageous, selfless Australian soldiers marched into enemy territory - into what would soon rapidly transform itself into World War Two.

One of them, a grubby faced, hysterically frightened teenaged boy, was at the back of the group, swivelling around 360 degrees every few moments to cast paranoid looks about. The inexperienced, adventure loving eighteen year old boy had come to war with his loving father, completely aware of the risks and danger that was to come.

The army halted and hastily made their camp in the secluded barren underbrush, unaware that the enemy camp was close by.
Two soldiers stayed awake while the rest of the army stayed in the tents resting, paranoia intercepting their sleep.

All was quiet except for the gentle whistle of the birds, and the occasional snap of a twig as a harmless nocturnal animal trotted gently past. It only stayed that way for a few hours. The only indication the resting soldiers got that something was wrong was a belated scream from the guarding soldiers.

The irreconcilability between the two nations after the last war was evident, and that was the reason for the merciless rampage, and for the war that was to come.

The Australian soldiers instinctively snatched their guns from the ground and fled from the tents, dodging bullets and shooting back at the enemy in several minutes of chaos.

But then, the cries of pain and the bullets whizzing by dangerously close to his head didn't matter to the boy any more. All that mattered was the enemy soldier that was carefully aiming his gun, about to shoot at the boy's father.
He wasn't far away, so the boy ran towards his father and jumped sacrificially in front of him, and the bullet hit him instead of his father.

After eleven seconds of agony, the boy died, with an eloquent expression on his muddy, pimple ridden face. However, his last emotion was pride, for he had died for his father, and for his nation.