Journal Bad Day

(Posted by Alistair)

Injured again. Lucky compared to some of the other lads, the ones who aren't going home. We were pulled off the lines to assist the English further along the coast. It was a slaughter, nothing like when we first landed. The Captain, a man I had never met, blew the whistle and we began charging across the field. We made it maybe 20 meters before the machine-gun fire started to pelt us, but we charged ahead anyways. I fell behind, not because I was tired but because I would've rathered not be in front. I am ashamed for that. I saw the lads make it over the next hill and that's when the first shells began to drop, and the first cries for medic went out.

I reached the crest and looked on with horror at the massacre. Tanner was among the first hit, lucky bastard only got knocked out. Can't say the same for Petey or any of the other poor sods that got cut down. White took a nasty bit of shrapnel in the chest and he was one of the first I got to. I did what I could, wrapped him and began pushing him back towards the lines. Don't know if he made it. Next thing I knew a shell landed damn near in my lap and I was out cold.

Came to a few moments later with a sick feeling in my gut. Did all the obvious vital checks that one typically does when he comes back from the land of shell shock. Groin? Check. Legs? Both still there. Arms? A little banged up but still there. By some divine miracle I escaped with nothing but a few burns and minor lacerations. I heard the retreat sound and I began crawling back to the lines. It was then that I realized the horrifying truth.

I'm not going to last to the end of this war. Hell I don't even think I'll make it to tomorrow.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License.