1938

I was a free man, sitting on a porch, over looking the sunset, with a cup of coffee in my right hand and my left hand over my darling wife. My children playing in the garden, playing in the dirt.  The perfect life as I knew it .A good job, supper each night with my family, our daily prayers together, something I overlooked at the time is now something I crave.  

1944

I lift my head slowly and open my eyes to the sight of tired soldiers, crumpled together in a small aircraft. Waiting to either go home or die in battle. One soldier throws up in front of me, a gross scene that now seems so normal. The aircraft door opens and within seconds, half the soldiers, my friends are dead, blood covers the craft as I run out and see nothing but chaos and destruction. One soldier lays there on the ground, his large glasses full of dirt, he is only 19, he is screaming.  A scream that I will never forget, his holding his stomach and blood flows out like a river on the sand, his inners laying beside him, him still screaming. I look up and see a white flash in front of me.

I hear music, a gentle yet strong tune that carries me as I lean upwards and try to stand, I can't. I wipe my eyes and look. I see red sand in front of me as I can't feel my legs. My Major runs for me and looks at me with a stare of empathy, he knows, he knows i'm not going home. I've never liked to ask God for help but now I pray in silence waiting, waiting to be taken home. Not this honours but in a body bag.