KRISTY D. - 1/13/2007 4:14 AM ET
Great imagry. You put me right on that field of battle. Keep writing!
Haunting Memories By Paula H. The fields whisper his name, but he doesn't hear them. All he hears is the cries of the soldiers dying all around him and the choppers hovering above. He no longer see's the fertile crop land or the jungle. All he see's are holes in the ground. Dust being kicked up by the bullets. The remaining ground is red with the blood of the soldiers whose bodies litter the field like broken toys. In the distance there is a glimmer, the hot sun reflecting off of something that beckons him. He walks across the battle field, heedless of the chaos around him. When he reaches the reflection, he stoops and retrieves it and then silence. The wind whispers his name and says take me home. He looks at his hand, and see's the dogtag of a fallen comrade. This for all who have ever served Thank you for your service. This is also for the families of those who never came home. Thank you for your sacrifice. |
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Comments 1 to 3 of 3
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