Tommy tightened his dirty, cold fingers around his gun with bayonet ready; ready for the onslaught of the efficient German guns, not that his bayonet was a match for those guns. He was sixteen and was eager to fight for King and country when he lied about his age and signed up, filled with pride, patriotism and duty to kill the Hun and all he had was this gun.
Now, he stood trembling in the chilly early morning air as the mist lifted off the quagmire of barbed wire, debris and the fallen; everything still, not even the rats were scurrying in the trenches this morn.
The line was ready and the silent ticking of the clock was as loud as his thumping heart which was as loud as the bombs that had rained down on them the day before, so loud he worried the Hun would hear him, but it was a comfort also for it meant he was alive.
And then the lonely sound of the whistle came and Tommy, along with his comrades who were now his family took to the rickety wooden ladders and climbed up into no man’s land as the German guns started their battery of fire; character building they said when he signed up as the mud and shrapnel flew up around him . . . .
This may appear somewhere in my NaNoWriMo but at the moment it is a piece for remembrance on this day 11/11. Lest we forget. xxx
What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.