The Sun Is Shining
The sun is shining; amazing it’s the first time in weeks. Pity I’ll be dead soon, me and so many more.
Mother didn’t want me to go: war is no good she always said. Well any pacifist would. But I wanted to go, thought it would be fun. Kill a few Germans, have some heroic near death misses and come home. None of us would be here if we had known what it was like: death, pain, torture, loss and rats.
I never thought I’d die at seventeen. Thought I’d live a good long life; get married, have kids, the usual. But it wasn’t to be. So as the whistle blows for us to stand our mark and get ready, I feel regret pound my head like loud music. All the things I never got to do: turn twenty, become a teacher. I never will now and that makes me feel sad. I wonder if they’ll remember me? My family, friends, well the ones that aren’t dead like I’ll be
The second whistle goes, men all around me dart forward, guns in hand ready to go over. Ready to die.
Will it hurt I wonder as I climb the ladder. But I keep going. I hear the guns from the other side, the cries as our men fall. Why are they making me do this? I wonder as I step over the top. Before I even get to pull my trigger a sudden pain attacks my chest. I look down and see red cover my uniform. I’m hit. Pain spreads through my body.
And as I fall I answer my own question; yes death does hurt.
IMAGE: kevindooley
