ANZAC Art

My ANZAC Art

This is my Anzac Art.

A Soldier's Honour

A Soldier's Honour

I look about at everyone else,clothes ripped and bloody wounds all over their body.

I feel cold tears rolling down my cut up face, sizzling as the tears roll into my cuts burning me alive.

Hup 2,3,4, I stumble along with the others away from the blood curdling screams, away from the horror.

I see ahead of me our trench that we built with our own two hands, our safety.

Another soldier falls behind me, dead by a bomb that just exploded, blowing us all forward into some mines.

The mines start exploding before our very eyes, until it's only me and a dozen.

But still we stumble along, every step taking more blood from us.

It took our boots from us a little while ago,what more does it want from us.

Clouds start surrounding soldiers,’ GAS ‘ I shout, ‘GAS’ eventually soldiers start waking from warlike trances.

As the gas starts to cover us thick blanket surround us we all quickly slam on our gas masks

One man suddenly starts heaving in breaths of gas as he had dropped his gas mask into the gooey mud below him.

He starts staggering around crying with fear as he falls to the ground.

The gas was like a greenish cloud surrounding us, coveringing us, hunting for our lungs.

As it thickened I could hear it screaming for life but I ignore the urge and keep walking through the blinding fog.

I see a shadow rush towards me, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I hear big gulps of air as my friend,my mate,my bud, chokes and slowly falls to the ground heaving,dying.  

If you were here this year, this day, this minute, you would see my agony, my pain,my grief of the soldier I see before me. There is no colour on him his brown suit, his pale face like a ghost haunting you everywhere you go. His once blue eyes are now white pebbles in a solid black circle. His hanging head is nearly touching the muddy ground which disgusted me and making my spine shiver with horror.

Now imagine, just imagine what it would be like to stagger along behind a dying soldier, a suffering soldier and you can't do anything about it. Imagine him coughing and sputtering up blood and mucus every little bump in the gravel.

Imagine his trembling hands as he attempts to reach out and take my hand.

Blood, death, guilt, do you really want to suffer tremendously or even die just for a place that you're not even going to be there to see.  

Who knows what it's going to look like, we could have come here and loss to this battle leaving us all dead, deaf or blind and even maybe all your limbs have been amputated.

You come back being permanently scarred or may not even come back at all.

So I ask you all, is it really worth dieing for your country?  

By Ruby