Originally Posted by Crash_Tomas

Here's some more!
_____

Chapter One (Cont'd)

The window was rolled down and the wind blew my hair wildly. I kept my eyes firmly on the road, taking in as little scenery as possible. The road just passed underneath the car’s tires and all that I saw was it fading away in the rear-view mirror. I wanted to be able to take in this beautiful country, but times wouldn’t allow it. I thought that maybe when this was all over I could come back and actually enjoy being here.

The road and the grass began to blur together and the sky dropped on top of both, as if blanketing it. I blinked to try and focus again, but ended up being reminded of where I was. The scenario was familiar to me. I had fought on it. I tried thinking on how long ago, but somehow the past was blended in with my present. The only true thing I remember, or what I believe to be true, is how I wound up in Haverhill.

Apologies if I'm being thick but fought should be thought perhaps? You could lose had as well by using I'd at the start.

“Private!” someone yelled. I turned and saluted for that was what I was trained to do.

A nit. as I was could be better there. Loses a few words.

“Yes Sir!” I bellowed, noticing a Captain striding towards me. He stared me down and came within inches of my face. I could smell tobacco on his breath as he opened his mouth to speak.

I'd consider and. Change came to coming and it fits in my view.

“First class, eh?”

“Yes Sir!”

“Where is your canteen?” he asked. I took the canteen from a pouch around my waist and held it out.

“Here, Sir!”

“Thank you, Private,” he said and ripped it out of my hands. I watched him unscrew it and take a long gulp out of it. After he had swallowed, he dumped the rest at my feet and handed me back the canteen. “Refill your canteen, Private,” he ordered.

“Yes Sir!”

He walked away from me and I saluted him as he left. I never had the chance to refill my canteen, because shots were fired and before I had soaked in any of what had happened, I was face down in a trench, holding my rifle. I lay on my stomach and turned over as if to sit up. Someone on the side of me pushed me back down and yelled something I couldn’t hear over the gunshots.

I managed to turn back on my stomach and reached forward to grab hold of something to drag myself along the dirt. My helmet fell in front of my eyes and I dropped my rifle to fix it. A bullet struck the dirt before me and I let out a quick scream. My eardrums were filled with constant firing and yells of other men. With another scream, I grabbed my rifle again and held it into a firing position. I set my sights out of the trench and pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked back and the bullet casing withdrew from the cartridge. The entire rifle shook in my hands and I fired again. My target was whatever was in front of me that moved. I could feel fear set in and my heart began to race. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stayed in my position and continued firing. When the cartridge ran out, I slid back down into the trench and re-loaded. Something inside of me didn’t allow me to crawl back up and continue firing. I was somehow frozen…

“Run!” a voice bellowed on the side of me. I turned my head and saw someone’s charred face. His yellow teeth and blackened lips yelled at me again, and his bloody hand pushed me up. Both of us began to run, mostly he pushed me ahead and then disappeared somewhere behind me. I never saw him again….

Could change this to: my side. Or if you want to keep it, I think to would be better in place of on.

I continued running along the country side, bullets still hitting everywhere around me. I was joined by other men, all running. Men yelled the same few words, “Run for it! Retreat!” I didn’t notice that I had dropped my rifle, and was swaying my arms back and forth with each of my strides as if it were held in them.

“Go! Go! Go!”

The gun shots slowly faded away, and everyone’s screams subsided. I saw a farmhouse in front of me, a faded red. I rapped on the door a few times and tried catching my breath. The door creaked open and an old man’s face appeared. Rings surrounded his light blue eyes and a scruffy white beard sat on his face. He looked into my eyes and instantly pulled me inside. At first I didn’t know what to expect, so I reached for my pistol.

“Come,” he ordered and I followed him through the house. He led me out onto the back porch and towards the barn. He opened the doors and walked through. I followed reluctantly and once inside, saw a small cot. “You can stay here,” he said in broken English.

“Thank you,” I said with a nod and the man closed the barn door again. I started taking off my gear, and sorting out what I needed for when I left. ‘Necessity is a Soldier’s best friend.’


To Be Continued...