In The Trenches

Chapter 1~ The First

The trenches are not the best environment for a moody 19 year old but that's where I have spent my time for the last year. I was called when I was 18. My father sold me out, he was never very keen on me. Always tried to find excuses to get rid of me. The war was a great way to rid himself of me forever, I am aware that he wishes me dead every day. It all started in June 1940(last year). The war was getting intense; the British army needed new recruits and my father volunteered me. My mum wasn't too happy. I'm sure that she's over it now, she's never tried to contact me. It's been a year.
I've never actually killed a person. I've shot people but they always survived, I would steal records and documents to see who would live. I'm scared to kill incase I can never live it down, that it will forever be with me. Officers will send me to the doctors, who will make me go to a nuthouse. Sometimes I don't load my gun and pretend to shoot so my commanders believe I'm doing something but don't think I'm a conscientious objector. I'm only 19 but I'm worried about dying, death camps and Adolf Hitler himself. He is not scared to kill millions of people and that confidence terrifies me.

I snap out of my daydream and look at the scene before me. Rations and bullet shells surround me like I'm in a sea of guilt and bad memories. My fellow soldiers are shouting, crying and screaming so I try to block out the sounds. I put my hand to my chest and feel the piece of paper which has never left my side. I take it out of my pocket and view the image. It's a drawing of my brother and I. My twin brother drew it when we were 13, the next week, he died. They said it was dehydration but I don't believe it.
My brother was the only person I'd truly loved until I met my best friend. I look to my left and see Dawson, the perfect friend. The only friend I have. We have known each other for 5 years now. He looks focused, fearful and scary, all at the same time. His eyes flashing from side to side, as he takes in his surroundings. His jawline stands out like a knife. Gunshots. I duck, knowing I'm safe already. A reaction I suppose. I stand up and shoot blindly into field, hoping to strike but not kill. I hear an order in the chaos.

'Soldiers, stand down!' I immediately stop shooting; I wish I never have to shoot again.

I turn around and glimpse pool of blood. My heart pounds, and I see the body where the blood once belonged.

Dawson.

I stand silently in shock, he looks so peaceful. Is he gone?