Faint footsteps over on the German side, thick smoke clouding over the battle filed, rats scuttling with fear, the sky lit up with ammunition, the sound of innocents being shot down in cold blood and smell of death stay strong and reality in our noses. The outline of one man, just one man, falls down dead with his wound pouring out his soul.
I don't even hear the birds sing any more. It's not easy out here, it gets very lonely, I don't wont to lose any one of my friends, they're what keep me sane. We see a lot of new lads come full of hate and murder, they have been built to kill. They've been fed propaganda we don't know everything!
It's Christmas morning and spirts are high, the larks are still bravely singing in the sky. I wish I was home smelling Mum's homemade mincepies and the juicey turkey with every vegetable immaginable. I can taste chicken when I dream, a nice dinner is all I could wish for. But instead all I'm smelling is the scent of decaying earth and gun powder. We all thought we'd be home by now. Will we ever go home?
I could hear music and singing over on the German side. They must be celebrating Christmas too. It's a shame that we have to kill and fight on this sacred day, when Jesus was born.
I have a really good mate called John, he was a fresh faced soldier not so long ago, we taught him all the tricks of the trade. He was full of hate for the Germans, he told us what they said about them, we didn't know if it was true or not.
We'd just had dinner when John sat down, he sat too far on the end of the bench, there was no one else on the bench, apart from a sterling silver plate that the soldiers eat their horrible meat loaf on. As John fell to the ground the plate did the opposite and rose like a sun. It felt like the whole world went in slow motion for a minute, everything was silent, which made a change for once.
As the plate rose higher and higher one shot was taken by a brave shooter on the German side. As the plate fell to the ground our eyes stuck to it like glue. That one shot fired had penetrated the plate straight threw the centre. We could hear our heart beating in our ears, our eyes lit with excitement and our smiles rose with curiosity. So we did it again.
We all lined up, each with a plate, we looked at one another and smilled, which was the signal. BANG!! BANG!! BANG!! The sound still rings in my ears. As the plates finally fell to the ground every single one had a hole in the middle of it. I said to Tom that they must have some seriely good soldiers.
John thought it would be a good idea to hold the plate out of the trenches, to see what would happen. That was bad idea, a very bad idea. If the Sargent found out about this we would be in a lot of trouble. No one was allowed to put any kind of limb out of the trenches. But john didn't really care and did it any way. They could have shot him, injured or killed a soldier, but they didn't, they draw a smiley face in the plate with there gun instead.
By this time excitment and moral was at an absolute high it was mid day so the sun was at eye level and every thing was crispy white with snow. Shining after a night of horror and dread the ground still shone away, showing us that if we lose people, and we will, that we can still shine just like the earth.
The figure of a man rose from the trenches holding a white flag. No one took a shot. He was holding something under his arm. A ball. When he came to a stand still he started to wave the flag but no one was brave enough to go investigate. I finally plucked up enough courage and clambered up the ladder. As I was walking over I was thinking to myself a million and one scenarios and If I'm going to die that I didn't say goodbye to my family.
As I got closer to to soldier he kicked a ball at me I was confused at first, but kicked back and carred on walking towards him. He told me about how they were celebrating christmas in the trenches and how much fun it would be to have a football match. Germany against England. As I shook his hand and ran back to the trenches to tell every one the good news there was a rush of happiness going through everyone's hearts, minds and souls lifting there moral. There was a massive frenzy to get up on to the pitch, football matches everywhere in every space.
This was what we all needed to lift our spirits, a good old football match. Of course Englang won! No hard feelings Germany?
New orders came in from the RSM stating that the football match must be stopped but no blood will be spilt. As we all descended into our trenches I picked up the ball which was wedged in the snow and a croaky voice from behind shouted at me for his ball. My sneaky try to steal the ball had failed. As I gave the ball back the boy handed me a piece of cloth, notice that I say boy not man? You see on both sides there are very young lads fighting for their country because lads as young as 16 would lie about there age. I dont know why, I'd do any thing not to be here.
Anyway I digress, I said some thing about a cloth? Oh yes I remember, as I handed the the ball over the boy handed me a cloth he softly whispers in my ear "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" I had no idea what he said I looked into his eyes and saw nothing, I tried to look deeper but he was lost, broken the devil festers inside. I know he was crying for help and I could do nothing, he was suffocated by his own body.
As I trudge trough the snow, my hard leather boots press into the back of my heel, like a sore blister on a summers day. With each bump in the ground I knew I stepped over a body. That body could have been a friend, a fellow soldier that lost his life with a single bullet. He was just a boy.
Once in the trenches I asked people about the cloth and what the soldier said to me, but people were hardly talking after all we were under close inspection after the the football. After asking about 20 people one fella told me what it meant he said "It is sweet and right to die for your country" I felt almost a sort of pride rush over me, an honour that an alli soldier said to me.
Christmas is over, the excitment gone, vanished. Reality hit hard. The noise wakes you up in a night terror, you expect a German standing over you, the gun ready to fire and the bayonet ready to kill. But this wasn't the way I died. The guns never stop. They can make you go insane. As I sleep I grip my gun tightly just in case I was called up. You never know when you're needed.
"BILL GET UP!" I could sense the urgency in his vioce. "THEY'RE COMING! THE GERMANS!" The Germans had rose above there trenches in there hundreds. It was pitch black and the fog loomed over us like a sick disease. When light would be seen on the other sides, you can see the out line of solders that had been taken by the devil and that devil was me. You could see small heads poking up from holes in the ground which had been blown out by grenades. My orders were exact and I had to follow. Shoot anything that moves.
Word had got around that Tommy tried to escape from the devils playground. But he was found not too far from camp his desperate effort to keep his sanity had failed, he belonged to the trenches, the battlefield and the earth. He was once affraid of death, now he longs for it.
Something happened to John. He was on the other side of the trenches and a gas bomb was set of. He didn't put his mask on in time. News rushed down to me like wild fire, but it was too late, all I saw was my drowning friend being taken to no-mans land so he could suffer and die there in a pool of his own blood.
I've lost my friends, I have killed innocent people that had a right to live and I had no right to take it away. Who am I? I am not the same person I was. What would my family say of me now? I don't deserve to live when I have taken someone elses life. I am no hero or soldier, I am a murder and I am a monster.
As I sit in my bunk writing a letter to my family my mind throbs with all the things I want to say but I keep it short and sweet so they understand what is like to live in such mind numbingly hostile place. Once I finish the letter I get up and say my prayers hoping that the holy lord will receive me. I'm saying the same words over and over "It is sweet and right to die for your country" I pulled a pistol from under my pillow slowly raising it to my head hoping that this was the right answer to rid me of the monster and devil I had become. BANG!! It was over. I was me again. Not who I'd became. I just wish I had done it sooner.
