As the warmth of the sunlight lightly kissed my cheeks,
I began to sob.
Of the realization of today's events intoxicated my mind.
I pressed ******* against the corner of a cross -
Inscribed into the wall by a fellow Conrad.
Who had also disobeyed, who had broken the rules.

Maybe they had committed mutiny
Or cowardice, or desertion.
Perhaps they were scared,
Perhaps they'd had enough,
Perhaps they just missed home.
We can only ever guess now,
Because dawn came and the pole stood tall.

Killed by their own. Friendly fire.
Who were also suffering and traumatized.
But for the act they were about to commit
Would not take it to the extremes that I had.
Or any of the people that had abused these 4walls before me.
Which one of them would do it?
What final blow would cause the end to my life?
Because for all of us it was never really if we died.
Instead the question was when.

My name is Herbert Morris
I am 17 years old.
I fought in the British West Indies Regiment, until
The date is 20th September 1917.
And today is the day.
For I had escaped
But they found me.