The War

I pulled the trigger for the last time and let the bullets take control of an enemy’s life. His body twitched with every shot in the chest and blood gushed out like a burst water pipe. At last, his legs gave in and knelt to the ground with his eyes taking a glimpse of me for one last time, and then he collapsed on his back. I marched towards the dead corpse and unbuttoned his cameo uniform. A steel plate, dog tag went round his neck and I pulled it out to see his name. ‘James” I read out and closed my eyes as I prayed for his safe journey to the afterlife. He was the last of them I thought.

I used my remaining utter strength and got myself up and then heaved a loud sigh that all the dead around me could hear. I tossed my weapons to the ground and I took a jog on the velvety red carpet of blood to the pontoon bridge. There, I sat on the extreme edge of the cold, hard cement so that my legs dangled freely. From my left pocket, I fished out a white out a white cotton damp handkerchief, which I wiped my face with till the very last speck of dirt off. I noticed every detail of camouflage paint, sweat and blood, from the people who fought alongside and against me, on the once white cloth.

I examined the war debris, observing every part of the horror panorama. The only voice I could hear was the crackling of fire. Half fallen buildings grabbed strongly of the ground that was full of blank bullets and dark red blood. The place smelled like an iron smoldering warehouse and flies were roaming around the lifeless bodies. It did not take too long for crows to come speeding and crashing with each other’s beaks, fighting for their indulgent gourmet meal. There was a luxury for the army of birds as they had an army to feed on.

I slid my hand into my right pocket and took out the metal dog tags which I had collected from the cold war. I read out the names written on each of them as I replayed their majestic death. “Andrew, Peter, Evans, Larry, Damien, Sam, Paul” and then “James”. The lives I took were like me, a warrior who fought with all their might for their country and families. A stream of consciousness flowed through the valleys in my mind as I looked at my reflection on the stream of river beneath my feet. Unconsciously, tears of remorse rolled down my cheeks, subtle at first then profusely. I could not differentiate whether the saltiness was the tears or the blood from the cut on my lips. After a long hesitation, I jumped into the warm waters and let the current drive my body away from this devastation.

Article by: 7165 Dina

A-Levels