The Last Breath
by Catchik Paul Jordan
Rain was lashing down onto the trench walls. I couldn’t bear it there. I felt cowardly and obtuse for joining such a war and for leaving my children and family. I didn’t know what to do. I was tremulous and nervous. My heart was thumping, thumping like a galloping horse. I could hear screams of pain, the ear piercing sirens; and the rattling and ringing of a machine gun, being fired furiously and constantly. These noises haunted me. I was Sergeant Wallace- Sergeant Thomas Wallace. It was my turn now. I had to get ready to charge at the enemy, the Germans.
I grabbed my abandoned rifle that was left in the gooey mud. I then leaned my stomach against the rough, rigid trench wall and eased and steadied my rifle. Father had told me how to aim - he was once a soldier, but he had to retire after he had a major leg injury when his unit was bombed. It was so serious that it paralysed his leg. "Three minutes!" cried the Marshall. Three minutes until hundreds of men's lives fell and ended. I fumbled around in my dusty pocket for a second or so, and could feel the razor sharp end of my dagger and my lucky charm that was given from my mother. I took out my dagger and stabbed it into the sandbag next to me. I then glanced at the lucky charm in the palm of my hand and placed it around the dagger. "30 seconds!" cried the Marshall again. I looked up. Beyond the never-ending, weaving and tangled barbed wires I saw nothing but a field; a field that was once covered in the glistening sun and only life roamed the land. I could feel a cold breath against my cheek and a tingling sensation running up my spine.
"EEEEEEEEEE!" went the echoing noise of the whistle. I scaled the trench wall with a trail of dust behind. "BOOM!"
I was hit. A bullet sunk into my chest and a narrow river of ruby red blood trickled down my body. I went plummeting down the trench wall.
"CRRRACK!" went my arm. It was broken, I was sure of it. I was lying in front of my lucky charm, hoping it'd do me good. I lay there terrified and gasping for air. I felt like an idiot. Men were innocently dying out there and I was trying to heal myself back here. I grabbed my rifle and used it as a walking stick to support me. I felt useless. I could smell the rotting corpse above. I shut my eyes, desperately trying to think of my children and family back home. This helped me forget about the agonising pain. Finally, I clambered up the trench wall, ready to fight against the wrath of the Germans.
I was Sergeant Thomas Wallace. I fought on until the last straw, the last bullet, and what I thought was the last breath.
by Catchik Paul Jordan
Rain was lashing down onto the trench walls. I couldn’t bear it there. I felt cowardly and obtuse for joining such a war and for leaving my children and family. I didn’t know what to do. I was tremulous and nervous. My heart was thumping, thumping like a galloping horse. I could hear screams of pain, the ear piercing sirens; and the rattling and ringing of a machine gun, being fired furiously and constantly. These noises haunted me. I was Sergeant Wallace- Sergeant Thomas Wallace. It was my turn now. I had to get ready to charge at the enemy, the Germans.
I grabbed my abandoned rifle that was left in the gooey mud. I then leaned my stomach against the rough, rigid trench wall and eased and steadied my rifle. Father had told me how to aim - he was once a soldier, but he had to retire after he had a major leg injury when his unit was bombed. It was so serious that it paralysed his leg. "Three minutes!" cried the Marshall. Three minutes until hundreds of men's lives fell and ended. I fumbled around in my dusty pocket for a second or so, and could feel the razor sharp end of my dagger and my lucky charm that was given from my mother. I took out my dagger and stabbed it into the sandbag next to me. I then glanced at the lucky charm in the palm of my hand and placed it around the dagger. "30 seconds!" cried the Marshall again. I looked up. Beyond the never-ending, weaving and tangled barbed wires I saw nothing but a field; a field that was once covered in the glistening sun and only life roamed the land. I could feel a cold breath against my cheek and a tingling sensation running up my spine.
"EEEEEEEEEE!" went the echoing noise of the whistle. I scaled the trench wall with a trail of dust behind. "BOOM!"
I was hit. A bullet sunk into my chest and a narrow river of ruby red blood trickled down my body. I went plummeting down the trench wall.
"CRRRACK!" went my arm. It was broken, I was sure of it. I was lying in front of my lucky charm, hoping it'd do me good. I lay there terrified and gasping for air. I felt like an idiot. Men were innocently dying out there and I was trying to heal myself back here. I grabbed my rifle and used it as a walking stick to support me. I felt useless. I could smell the rotting corpse above. I shut my eyes, desperately trying to think of my children and family back home. This helped me forget about the agonising pain. Finally, I clambered up the trench wall, ready to fight against the wrath of the Germans.
I was Sergeant Thomas Wallace. I fought on until the last straw, the last bullet, and what I thought was the last breath.