Lest We Forget (draft)

The icy bullets shoot down onto my mud-stained face. My legs are barely able to carry me. My

life could be taken from me at any moment. My stomach screams that it needs food. An icy

wave whips around my head. BANG! Thud. Another life has been taken. I hear a scream in

the distance. Another family will be crushed with the news their loved one has been

slaughtered. Some of these boys are so young. The burning hot hammers in my head get to

work crushing my skull. It is agony. You probably wonder why I keep going. I wonder that

myself, but then a face comes to mind. A little girl, with big, green, hopeful eyes, a freckled

nose and wild hair. Georgie. My little sister. She was so proud when she heard that her big

brother would be fighting for our country. Her delicate hands holding up my army green

uniform. I look down at it now. Streaks of deep red, muddy brown, ripped and torn. I take

her picture with me everywhere, to remind me what I’m fighting for.

I make my way through the brown sludge, when I stumble. I look down to see what I’ve

tripped on. A boy. About 16 years old. His rotting body is infested with wriggling white

maggots and is lying in a pool of red. His unblinking brown eyes stare into my green ones. I

single tear rolls down my cheek as I turn back and continue to follow the line of soldiers.

I pull the rag tighter around myself trying to absorb all the heat and warmth I can get. I

am drunk with fatigue, yet I can’t fall asleep. Just the thought that if you close your eyes,

even for one second, you could be murdered is enough to keep anyone awake. The slightest

sound could be an enemy with a loaded gun ready to kill, or it could just be another soldier

keeping watch. I hear a sound from the bed next to mine. I immediately sit up and reach for

my gun, when I hear a timed voice stutter “I d-di-din’t m-m-mean to st-st-startle you.”

I look over and realize the voice is coming from a young boy about the age of 14. His eyes

are puffy and red from crying. He quickly wipes away the tears.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m Oliver, what’s your name?” I say softly.

“I-I-I’m Elliot” The boy stammers. He’s quite a small little scrap of a boy. His messy hair and

freckled nose remind me of Georgie. Thinking of Georgie makes me feel sympathetic to this

kid.

“Hey Elliot, what are you crying about?” I ask using the voice a use with Georgie when she’s

upset. Elliot shrinks back a little and wipes his eyes again.

“It’s ok, you don’t need to say anything, but if you need someone I’m here alright?” I say.

“It’s just... I m-m-miss my mama and my pa, I’ve never been away from them for this long. I-I

just wanted t-t-to make them proud” Elliot says. I move closer to him and put my arm around

his shoulders.

“I’m sure they’ll be proud of you” I say. Then before I know what was happening Elliot flings

his arms around my neck and pulls me into a warm hug.

As I awake I look out to see the weather is worse than ever. I remember Georgie,

mother, and I sitting next to the fireplace laughing and playing while the weather continued to

argue and fight outside. If only I could be doing that now. Well I can't, I remind myself, I have

a job to do. “It’s freezing t-today” Elliot says, voicing what we are all thinking. He’s covered

with goosebumps and his hair is messier than ever. I go over to him

“I know buddy, but we have to keep going. Make you mama and pa proud. Yeah?” I say

trying to motivate him.

“Y-yeah. Th-th-thanks” He says through chattering teeth. Ever since the night I heard him

cry I’ve tried to look out for him, he has become like a younger brother to me. He distracts

me from missing my family too much.

We march into the horrific storm. I’m nervous as I always am when we go out into the

open, but today is different. I feel like something bad will happen. I know I’m probably just

paranoid but I keep an eye on Elliot just in case. The disgusting maggot infested mud is

sloshed all over my boots. I’ve learnt not to look down because I know what horrible things

you might see. I shudder at the thought. Elliot though, hasn’t learnt this yet, he looks down to

see a man’s head covered with streaks of mud, and where the eyes should be there are two

pools of blood. The man’s hair is rotting away with his flesh. Elliot lets out a horrified gasp.

He seems to have frozen on the spot. Then I see what he doesn’t.

“ELLIOT!!!” I scream as I sprint over and jump in front of him. BANG!

The world around me seems to fade away. I hear a voice scream for help. Is it Elliot? I

don’t know. Where’s Georgie? Is she safe? My head feels heavy. My eyes are closing. I’m

surrounded by darkness.

I wake up in a hospital bed. The side of my stomach has been bandaged. A young boy

is next to me.

“W-w-what-where” I stutter in a whisper. I look at the boy “W-w-wh- who?”

“Oh Oliver...” The boy whispers. Then I remember.

“Elliot?” I croak. “M-my jo-journal, I n-need” I look around for my old journal.

“I’ve got it, here” Elliot says as he passes me my book. I know I’m dying. I hope that no one

will miss me, I just hope they won't forget me.

I close my brother’s old journal. A single tear rolls down my cheek, before I burst into a

waterfall of tears. My mother comes in and wraps me in a tight hug.

“Why?” I sob into her shoulder.

“He did a brave and courageous thing, Georgie” My mother says even though her eyes have gone red and are filling with tears.

“I’ll give you some space” Mother says as she walks out. My brother died a hero I think to

myself. I open the journal and look at the first page. My brother has scrawled in his messy

handwriting “For my wonderful sister Georgie” Then I read the last sentence one more time.

We will never forget you, Oliver. Never. Lest we forget.