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One Last Time

Seeing this wall again brings back numerous memories; some good, some bad, but nothing like now. My muscles quickly tighten and tense as I see my enemy approaching. Their immense numbers are much greater than ours, but our strength equalizes that factor…I hope. I can feel my pulse quicken as they keep coming. The marching feet against the cold, hard, strong stone quickens, for they are still coming…coming…coming. Sounds of chirping birds can no longer be heard, just chaos. That is the only word to describe it; the men are restless, as am I, we won’t stop moving. Our hearts are thumping so loud that each of us can almost hear our neighbor’s. Then we collide. Smells of fresh gunpowder reach my nose as the first cannon is fired; a hit, good. Salty, foul taste of sweat drips into my mouth even though I am hardly moving. Thoughts of why I am doing this amble into my head like a tortoise walking over bunches of enormous rocks. I have to keep reminding myself, this is for my country and my freedom. If I don’t keep telling myself this, I know I will try to leave this horrifying place. Men all around me, my friends, like me, have a prayer on their lips, hoping it would not be their last. The blasting cannons and guns seem to yank my eardrums out and rip them apart. I grudgingly remember that I am here for my country and my freedom, but all I can think about is how I want to see my wife and my daughter one last time…

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