The Soldier's Journal

Preface

**TW: THIS BOOK COULD BE HIGHLY TRIGGERING TO THOSE WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF DEATH, SUICIDE, DRUGS, ALCOHOL, ABUSE, MENTIONS OF WAR.** (In case you didn't read the TW in the beginning)

~Dedicated to my father, all fallen soldiers, all who served in WW2, and my antique belongings from WW2~

As a kid, I always knew I'd have to get away from home. That was always the main goal. But I'd never think that in doing so, I'd be fighting for my life, as long as the lives of many others, just three months before my 22nd birthday. But here I am. Friends are all I have out here, but they're all that I could lose.

I wasn't necessarily upset when I was drafted to the US Army when the war began. My father kicked me out on my 18th birthday, but I saw it as a favor. I was homeless with nowhere to go, never knew where my next meal would come from, but it was much better than home. As dark as it may sound, I'd rather be ducking in trenches than always waiting for the next time father would get drunk and angry. My mind was torn from wandering when I heard a familiar voice screaming.I was used to the screams, but I knew this one. 

I looked over to see what I'd feared the most since being here. William Ross, my closest companion here, so far, lied on the ground, just five feet from the trench. He laid there clutching his stomach, failing to prevent the hemorrhaging. No one seemed to hear me screaming for a medic; my screams blended in with all the rest. 

I never stopped to consider moving both of us out of the open. I wasn't concerned for my own safety. I watched as Ross' eyes stilled, and his lips stopped quivering. I witnessed his chest fail to rise again. I saw his hands stiffen around his wound. My screaming ceased once I realized he was gone. 

I heard an all too familiar sound, as my fellow servicemen screamed for me to take cover. I was quick to seek shelter in the nearest trench, but I wasn't quick enough. I was in pain, but I felt lifeless, even though I was still alive. I felt my body get rolled over, and I looked up to see David  Michael's face staring down at me. His voice was fading, along with everything else around me. 

It all went to black, despite Michael's attempt at keeping me awake. I felt one last slap to the face from him as he tried to regain my consciousness, but I knew I was already gone. I was okay with accepting death, because I knew I wouldn't have a family to go home to, once the war was over–

"Mr. Myers? Hello? Edwin Myers?" My eyes slowly opened as I heard my name. I looked around, trying to gage where I was. This didn't look like heaven. Or maybe I'm in hell? Am I still alive? 

"Mr. Myers, can you hear me?" I turned my head in the direction of the voice. Now I knew where I was. A field hospital. I could still hear everything going on around me, and I was aware of the danger I was still in, but I at least felt safer in this tent. 

I remembered the nurse had asked me a question, so I went to nod my head yes, but I winced when I did. She was quick to walk over and place an extra pillow under my head for more support. "Mr. Myers, I'm nurse Rodgers. Can you tell me where it hurts most?" I tried to say "everywhere," but it came out as a mumble. 

Thankfully, I only had to repeat myself once for her to understand what I said. She explained how they'd have to have a doctor come look at me to see what actions needed to be taken for my recovery. "I have to go tend to others now, mr. Myers. But you probably don't want to be alone. I'll send a nurse's aide in here to sit and take care of you." I tried to explain that I'd be fine alone, but this time, she couldn't hear my incoherent mumbling.