The First Wave

I woke up to the sound of sirens and I heard a barrage of shots boom, shaking the air around me. It had been four days since the attack had been launched. Four agonising days. "TO YOUR POSTS MEN" shouted a familiar voice as the world came back into focus. I heard a buzzing in my ears, explosions all around me. I was in the eastern trench, coated in thick mud from head to toe. I scramble for my med-pack, listening out for the cry of injured soldiers. I can't hear anything but the gunfire shattering the silence after each barrage.

Soon I hear a shout. "Medic! Help me! Please!" A hastily snatched up my med kit, sprinting in the direction that the sound came from. I slipped in the greasy mud, sliding across the battlefield. I scrambled to my feet, clawing at the ground for balance. I ran. I just kept running. I felt like I could run forever, knowing what it was for. I felt no progress being made, but I kept going.

What felt like an eternity later I dived down into a massive hole in the ground from where the screams emanated. I tugged on the mud clogged leather straps, tearing them open, reaching for the morphine injectors. "Help me soldier..." muttered the injured man.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked. He pointed to a bloodied up hole in his clothes. I injected him with the tube and I could see his consciousness slowly seeping out of him. "Stay with me, cmon!" I shook him violently but he was still going. He coughed and spluttered as he returned to himself. "You'll be fine, trust me. PULL HIM OUT!" I shouted to the retrieval team.

I heard an ear splitting whistling sound as an artillery shell soared high above the gore splattered scene of carnage. Bang. I couldn't hear anything but the ringing in my ears, buzzing like a cicada. I saw a blur of movement from every direction as people scrambled to safety.

The buzzing was quieting down and I could hear the screams of many men, all saying the same thing. 'Medic'. It was my time, my time to help in this war effort and play my part. I felt around for the kit and my hand brushed over a sharp steel buckle edge, I dragged it out of the mud and scurried out of the pit, scanning my eyes across the scene for any hands waving or voices yelling.

There. Another. More. Too many to treat in a year. But I had to help. I sprinted full pelt and injected morphine after morphine, bobbing in and out of holes and trenches, all the while thinking I might be too late. My med kit was running low but I didn't have time to get a new one, my eyes searched over the masses of corpses scattered and I see the glimmer of a red cross, another med kit.

I bolted over to it, shaking it for the knowledge of its contents. Completely full. I threw down my old med kit and snatched up the new one. I ran back over to the next injured soldier, trying all I could, to save as many as possible. Next one. Next one. Bobbing and weaving in and out. Running here and there, the retrieval team alongside me all the while.

Suddenly I heard another loud bang and everything went white. I was home again. I was with my beautiful wife. It was sunny and warm, I picked up my son, Max, and pushed him down the slide. Oh how he laughed when I did that. We did it for hours in the soothing sun with a warm breeze sweeping over us.

I felt a pain in my chest. I looked down to see a gaping hole in my abdomen. A final tear rolls down my dirt stained cheek as I remember them. My family.

They shall not grow old,
As we, who are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning,
We will remember them.

Lest we forget