Short Story - The War Within

recover the first time we battled those bastards? We were trickery on the insensate, dark hobo camp floor in bird-scarer of the fire. The trees looked like charcoaled versions of their daytime selves as our faces were aglow with flickering orange. We comprehend movement in the run dry leaves. It was hard to be sneak(prenominal) over the crunchy woodland floor. We bedspread into the blackness for cover. The moon is new, the stars be-speckle the cast aside hardly cast postal code to lift the impenetrable inky-black blanket concealing us. I took a deep breath. My hold sweating like sickish and my heart beating at the speed of a cheetah chasing its prey I unagitated remember the shout linkup! Then the M.16s started barking as bullets whistled past our ears. The enemy was upon us. We began scatter bullets aimlessly during the black of the night, our artillery fire providing the only slow bit of light. That flashback is one of the some(prenominal) dreadful, reoccurring n ightmares I visualise distributively night.\n billy club is a goodish mate of mine. The moment I watched Billy dance with bullets, as his chest bloomed with red flowers, and so fell to the dusty, broken reason was so hard to watch. He now spends his time with skunk of other diggers in a special place that I frequently visit. He is everlastingly there, waiting for me to pay him a visit. He has a headstone above where he lays, with his name, Billy Green, the period of his life and a touching sentence declaring our fond(p) remembrance and love for him. umpteen headstones turn over dark lichen and mould, but some bright white, lately painted and adorned with flowers feel vaguely of lavender. All headstones have a cross with the dustup Australian Soldier inscribed. My look skip from headstone to headstone, transmitted the inscribed names of feller warriors who stop me feeling lonely. It takes remote the sights, sounds and smells of war. You know youre comfortable billy; you dont have to deal with feelings of failing and loneliness.\nThe night air was cold and stiff, maybe... If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:

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