I didn’t know it could be possible. I was more broken than before I left. The booming never stopped. The horrific shrieks echo through me. It’s hard fighting when there is nothing for you to fight for, no family, no friends. The only thing keeping me going is the hope that it will all be over soon. The colonel hates socialists, and it just so happens that I am one. He hates me because I am not afraid to show it. Everyone that I am assigned to work with always tells me I had a death wish talking to him like that. I laugh, but behind the laugh, I know that it’s true. I won’t be killed by the enemy at this point, I will be killed by him.
They tell us that we are fighting for freedom and peace. That we are the ones in the right. If that was really true why do they force guns into our hands and tell us to go and kill people? Why do they have to give us lectures that we are doing the right thing? I have started to realise that we are just as bad as the enemy because we are doing the same thing. Killing. I don’t dare speak my mind about these thoughts to anyone though.
The rain has been drenching us for weeks. Whenever it comes so does the knee-high mud. The thick brown sludge makes it near impossible for our weak bodies to push through. The loathsome stench of mud and people burns my nostrils. The frigid damp air suffocates me every morning as I hustle through the swarms of lost people.
Kill or be killed. That is how it is. There is no mercy where we are. We almost have to not have a conscience be able to keep going. The first time we got given guns it was such a novelty. As time has gone on though I have realised there is no novelty to these things. They are just objects designed for murder.
I am one of the few that don’t belong to a religion. I was never brought up in a strict religious upbringing. My family and I were always the outcasts of our town because of this. The truth is I’m glad I don’t believe in god because honestly, I don’t think that he could give a rational explanation for this. It has also meant that people don’t talk to me as much. Which is good because the more people I get know the harder it is when they get shot in front of me.
As I write this I am sitting on what is supposed to be my bed with the rain pelting down on us trying to wash away the horror of what is happening. I hope the war will be over soon. There has been enough bloodshed and fighting to last an eternity. I hate how we are constantly being watched and told what to do. People can get manipulated so easily. I still can’t understand how a few powerful people have manipulated millions of men to live like animals and kill each other.
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