The horrors of war
My name is Coporal Rock. My second in command and best friend is Lance Coporal Holiday. Next in line are Privates Hunt,Smith,Bottle,Monday,Thursday and Friday.
Our orders were simple. We were to go in,neutralise the enemy and get out. In other words,a hit and run mission. We were dropped off one mile from our objective on a dark and moonless night. Our formation consisted of two parallel lines of four,five meters apart. We started off at a brisk pace and relaxed into an easy stride pattern. "I can't wait for this mission to be over,said Private Bottle. I'm looking forward to seeing my wife and two year old son." "It's all right for some,retorted Private Monday bitterly,I have no one to go to when I go on leave." "Nor do I, said Private Thursday. I just enjoy the two B's." "What is that?" Inquired Private Friday. "Birds and booze," replied Private Thursday. "Quiet, I whispered. We are nearly there." We stopped in a ditch at the bottom of the hill. The shape of the enemy command structure loomed at the top. "This ditch will be our rendezvous point," I said. "I don't remember this ditch in the briefing," offered Lance Coporal Holiday. "It has no importance," I replied. We spread out and slowly walked up the hill. My foot caught the trip wire and the pop of the magnesium flare sounded loud in the night air. "Get down," I shouted. The brightness of the flare exposed us in the open ground. Machine gun bullets ripped into Private Friday and made him dance like a puppet on a chain. "The ditch,rendezvous at the ditch," I screamed.
The flare died and we ran down the hill. We jumped in the ditch and I said; "This ditch will be our rendezvous point." "I don't remember this ditch in the briefing," offered Lance Coporal Holiday. "It has no importance," I replied.
We walked up the hill and the brightness of the flare exposed us in the open ground. The machine gun bullets ripped into Private Friday and made him dance like puppet on a chain. Private Monday screamed: "No-oo." He ran,gun blazing towards the enemy. The bullets sliced his throat. His head fell on the ground,while his body carried on with it's dance of death. "The ditch,rendezvous at the ditch," I screamed. We jumped in the ditch and I said; "This ditch will be our rendezvous point." "I don't remember this ditch in the briefing," offered Lance Coporal Holiday. "It has no importance," I replied. We walked up the hill and the brightness of the flare exposed us in the open ground. Machine gun bullets ripped into Private Friday and made him dance like a puppet on a chain. Private Monday screamed. "No-oo." And ran,gun blazing towards the enemy. The bullets sliced his throat. His head fell on the ground while his body carried on with it's dance of death. Private Bottle returned fire on the enemy and ran towards the command structure. The bullets found his midriff and blood and entrails seeped to the ground as he lay down to die. "The ditch,Rendezvous at the ditch," I screamed. We jumped in the ditch and I said; "This ditch will be our rendezvous point." "I don't rememer this ditch in the briefing," offered Lance Coporal Holiday. "It has no importance," I replied. We walked up the hill and the brightness of the flare exposed us in the open ground. 24258210
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