BOOM! The earth shakes as a mortar shell explodes overhead, raining dirt and shrapnel down upon us. I sat with my back against the trench wall, unfazed by the usual thunder. I look to my right and my friend Ben. He turned to me with a fear-stricken face, then tries to hide it behind a half-hearted smile when he sees me. Gunfire hits over his head. He shrinks down as rocks fall onto his helmet.
“OPEN FIRE!” The Commander ordered through a silence. I raise my head out of safety and bring my rifle above the ditch, aiming across the Dead Zone. My view is limited between the piles of dead men who threw their lives away failing to take the enemy trench. An enemy soldier pops out above the trench and aims his rifle next to me. Bang! Two shots rang out. He missed me, but I shot clean through his skull. I drop back into cover, contented that I defeated an enemy and survived. I turn to my right again. About six of my allies lie cold on the muddy trench floor, their faces disfigured with a hole going through their heads. I see their empty, soulless eyes and sadly observe each dead man’s face. One man had a hole going straight through his eye, another pierced through our cheap helmets. One sad man was shot clean through his neck.
Ben was shot clean through his neck. “No!” I yelled as I rushed over. I searched him for something, I don’t know what, just anything to bring him back. I stared into his eyes and saw what was left. I saw in his eyes the laughter we had in the cafeteria hall. I saw the wire we crawled under and the guns we cleaned. I saw many an occasion when we were talking about what was waiting for us at home. He had a girl at home he was planning to marry. He had the ring picked out, a place picked out, a day picked out. A whole life he now couldn’t live because he tried to stand for his people. Another soldier walks over him and fires on the enemy, as if the dead weren’t resting beneath his feet. I look down. Private Finn is dead beneath mine.
What has this war done to us? Why is this normal? How can a person be forced to commit such atrocities, for a leader they don’t believe in, and expect to be happy? I sprint into the barracks. My vision has blurred as tears fall down my face. My uniform is soiled in mud and ash. I hear our mortars firing gas canisters into the enemy trenches. I hear their screams over the gunfire. Their eyes must be burning, lungs failing as the mustard gas breaches and scalds every orifice on their bodies. Why are we here? Why should I stay? Men cry themselves to sleep and wake up screaming bloody murder as the events of the days prior haunt their dreams and waking life. The constant state of restlessness wears down the mind till the letters from our families mean as much as the rats that burrow in the dead.
Many have committed suicide, running from the things they had seen, heard, and accomplished on the battlefield. Such a horrible thing. To leave their brothers to their deaths. To push their worries and stress from themselves to the people that knew them and watched them die of their own attrition, in the absence of volition. But… who would be affected by me? I’ve lost Pete already. I’ve lost hope already. Home seems so far away, needing another 6 months to see my wife and daughter. It hardly seems worth the effort anymore. I see the pistol on my desk. It speaks to me. I hear the sweet nothings it whispers in my ear. I pick it up. I have shined it many times as part of my training. It gleams so beautifully in my hands. A promise of something better on the other side.
“Hey Paul, I got a letter for ya.” I wake from my trance to the sound of someone’s voice. Private Kurt bounds around the corner carrying a satchel of letters. He pulled an envelope out from his faded uniform and tosses it to me. “It’s from the family. I’ve still got some letters to deliver, so I’ll see you later. Have you seen Ben?” He asked lightheartedly. Grief flooded my mind at the mention of his name, pulling my head back down to the gun, still sitting in my lap.
“Oh. Guess I’ll... give it to the Major.” He then walked away, not sure what to say. I sat there for a long time, staring at the pistol in my lap. I then lift my hand. My family sends a letter. I open it slowly, not motivated for anything. I begin at the top with “Dear Daddy,

My teacher is having us write letters to our family on the lines, so now i can talk to you! I’m doing ok at home. Mommy got a job at the farmer’s market. It’s not the science job she had, but she’s happy. I am having fun at school, though still confused on on our new policies. I don’t get why Jews are bad but I haven’t seen many recently so it doesn’t really matter. To be honest, I am very worried. Annie came to class crying the other day. She says her father died on the front lines. My teacher tried to help her by saying that he died for her and the country. This has been happening a lot recently, and I’m starting to worry. But I know that you wouldn’t die, and that if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Mr.Hitler, you’d do it for us, and I’m proud of that. I’m proud of you and I can’t wait for you to come home so I can give you a big hug. I love you Daddy and I miss you, so please come home soon!
Sending you lots of love,
Your daughter, Vermillion

Tears begin flooding my eyes as I try to read it again. My vision is still blurry, my tears soaking the letter. I realize that I can’t die. I can’t just let them through! Every inch the enemy gains is another inch closer they are to endangering my family. How stupid of me to have even considered leaving behind the ones who matter! I rise quickly to my feet, rifle in hand, pistol in pocket. I march right towards the door and-
BOOM
A grenade blows right next to the doorway and Kurt flies through. His injuries are bad, maybe a few broken bones, but he’ll live. As he lies unconscious, I look down the trenches and see that the battled had continued in my absence. We had just held off a charge by the enemy. The No Man’s Land was littered with corpses from both sides in varied states of decay. I could see the commander was about to issue the command to rush them, so I made ready. I got in line with the other men, taking pot-shots at the enemy line to keep them down. I awaited the command to charge, to die fighting for a cause I didn’t believe in. However, I still will fight for my family. The thought of my family was the only thing that kept me going all these years. I fought to help my family survive. To save them from the poverty Britain forced upon us last time, to save them from whatever oppression or torture that would fall upon us if we lost. And if I have to die, then I will die fighting.
“CHAAAARGE!”
38 men leapt over the trenches. Bullets flew past as the English soldiers tried to hold. I fired wildly the entire way, running zig zag to dodge. An English soldier took command of the machine gun and started mowing down my allies. I threw a grenade towards the machine gun and knocked it off after 5 men were killed. I continued sprinting to the enemy trench, firing haphazardly forward. 6, 7, 8 men killed. I kept running.
I was almost there when one boy quickly stood and fired. Then there was nothing.