Punishment By Lauren Ganze “I have seen enough of one war, I never to wish to see another.”
As we ran across the fields, guns in hand, we could see our comrades getting shot down, the First Wave crying out for help as they clutched their painful wounds. We were the England Freedom Force, dedicated to freeing the Englishmen from the German invaders. As the Second Wave, we were the ones whose burdens were heaviest: we had to leave all the wounded behind, ignoring the cries of our brothers in arms while we ran down the beach, yelling our resolution to the sky as we charged towards the enemies, letting ourselves be shot down, bullets piercing flesh and cannon shots splitting the air. Mark, the quietest of all the trainees, had been assigned to the First Wave. I could see his shocked, pale face as I accidentally stepped on his chest, making his mouth open in a silent scream. A grimace covered my grimy, bloody visage, the gash on my forehead opening further as I prayed silently to myself, hoping God would hear my pleas and save the ones who could be saved. This was the Second World War, the worst any of us had ever seen. The damn Germans had invaded their neighboring countries, and though our superiors didn’t admit it, we, the soldiers, knew who was at fault. The ones who had stripped Germany for war reparations, the ones who had destroyed their pride and let a madman like Hitler take charge the Allies. All of our mother countries were at fault. We had failed to see things from the common peoples’ point of view; had taken things into our own hands and saw nothing but our own pain and needs. The highest powers had become greedy, selfish. And now we, the soldiers, were paying for their stupid mistakes with our lives. Our families lost sons, brothers, and fathers. Kids would grow up with big, ripped holes in their families, and wouldn’t know where to turn to when it was their time to go to war. The Presidents, the Prime Ministers weren’t getting shot. They didn’t know that every single one of their orders affected thousands, if not millions of lives. They didn’t care, either. They were safe in their big houses with their security and the peaceful lands surrounding them. And we, the ones who could only watch as they hurt another country for a single mistake, are being punished. We, the powerless, everyday people were giving up our lives to make up for the pain and the panic a handful of people had inflicted upon Germany and her allies.
The Second Wave ran over the First, and the Third ran over both. I had been one of the lucky few to make it to the area under the cliff, the haven where they couldn’t shoot at us. God only knew when they’d think to drop explosives on us, but I prayed the period would give us long enough to let us escape. Some soldiers of the Third and First waves had made it, but quiet, friendly Mark was still on the field, getting stepped on, shot at, and thinking of the sons he had to leave behind.