The Soldier

March 26, 2008
By Charlotte Young, Tauranga, ZZ

I can smell the robust stench of the smoke around me. The smell coming form the dead bodies is overwhelming. In my hand I am holding a M16 which is as rusty as an old chain. As I concentrate on my target, out of the corner of my eye I see my fellow soldiers fighting for their lives. The soiled layer of dirt that covers my body is disgusting and my clothes are at least a week old. On the top of my tongue I can taste the sourness of gunpowder. I hear the explosions of BOOMS and BANGS coming out form every ditch around me. I feel afraid and scared that I won’t be able to go back home and see my wife and my three gorgeous daughters.

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