As I saw with my own two eyes my comrade got mowed down with a burst of tank artillery. Shock. Despair. Hatred. I just hunched over and gave up it was no use trying anymore… it was futile trying to face this mas horde of death, all around me smoke , pillars of fire, huge explosions the smell it was absolutely revolting and disgusting it could even make the deadest corpse wrinkle his bloated swollen nose, it made me throw up to the core and everything seemed to be a blur as the mass surged forward for one last fatal blow against us all this made me feel the utmost fear the most amount of dread I ever felt in my entire life. Blood was drowning my taste buds and as they advanced hatred coursed through my every vein and then suddenly I could no longer see. Hear. Or taste anymore.
As I succumbed to the waiting, inevitable darkness and a sudden fire struck up deep in my heart. The passion for all those soldiers, comrades, and friends was even greater now that I knew it was all my fault that they were in this mess, I brought them here because they said it was safe. The base had radioed in to say this was a safe zone! But now look what's happened to most of my platoon! They are scattered across this desolate place most likely fighting for their lives, I mean look around you it's a war zone right, but in some cases you are wrong and it is very much the opposite of a war zone!
As I look around me for example I see the burnt out remains of over 12 tanks, the enemy's and ours, and I see smoke drifting from a huge fire about four miles from our location, and the absolutely horrendous sight of charred bodies and remains of skulls and broken bones littering the ravaged raided battle field as you see all of this you don't notice how it can affect all of your other senses, it is a wonder how it can numb your sense of smell. This foul stench of death is floating on the air and the blood was so strong that its smell clung to you it could reach you no matter where you went. However the noise was the worst for me and even though I could not hear much after a bomb because it had exploded mere metres from where I am slumped on this old shell, of what used to be one of our very own tanks, but it is still absolutely deafening! The rattle of gunfire screams of the wounded or dying and the crushing, crunching of the skulls of those unlucky men as the tanks grind over them haunted me.
As I slump here slowly losing hope, I can taste death so strongly and blood creeps into my mouth and then I know that the death will be my own the last thing I feel is the pistol at my waist so inviting yet so foolish , at last it has ended ,the sniper that took me out of this horror is my saviour and my enemy.