MB ( / Birmingham)

World War 1

September had finally passed,
It was the longest month ever,
it was close to my turn, To go over the top of the trench,
the stinging whistle sang a sad song,
and men charged over the trench.
the october rain was pelting my weapon,
and the rich dirt on my face was getting washed off by the cool waters,
Another wave of men went over the top, a wave of fathers, brother, sons, and best freinds.
All killed by the emeny,
Younger men died in pain, stretching for thier last breath,
The whistle sighed again,
It was coming closer and closer to my turn,
I felt my fierce heart pound inside me,
i was frightened but determined,
i was asking my self questions,
what will happen to my wife and daughter if i had died?
How would they cope without me providing for them?
I glanced over at Corporal walsh,
He was my best buddy, he a strong man, But even his face was unlit,
Ready son?
the whistle screamed, It was still sounding in my ears.
i felt my blood rush trough my veins,
I reached the top of the trench,
The no-mans land.
I felt the hard muddy ground under my swollen, cold feet,
dead bodies littered the grounds,
men screamed in pain as the barbed wire pierced their skin.
I walked a steady pace, More over on the dreaded land.
I saw my fellow freinds, whom i had been, laughing and joking with a few hours ealier, all getting shot down one by one,
Now there was only my rifle for company,
I missed my Wife and daughter and my loyal freinds,
i was shooting for them, i was fighting for their glory. I was killing for my country.

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