I look into the night my rifle in hand, blood seeping through the very soles of my boots. It has been two weeks since I have meet up with my old unit. For days I haven’t eaten or slept. The sounds of many men dying and the shells bursting through the air. I wish to see my loving family again when this will be I have no idea. I stare at the bare grounds of rocks and plain s that stand before me. I have seen and done things no mortal man should see or do. My hands are stained permantly, I have tried washing and scrubbing the blood that I see on my hands away, but I cannot get this image of the men’s faces of pure terror and pain out of my mind. There is just too much to see and say about what I have done from orders from above in higher command.
I stare at my hands from this rock I have laid to rest on, the hopes and dreams from a seemingly past life I have left behind at home.
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