Thoughts of a wounded soldier

You would think it a simple operation but with so many people in worse condition than you; solely you can do is sit and wait and wait and wait. This pause is so bland, the only vibrant color being the personnel department casualty ruby spots on the bed linen. How those sheets appal me... They swop the sheets periodically, every two days I think. They get down rear end the originally dirty linen, crisped, starched and bright white. Renewal, something that we cannot do resembling the sheets. If we ar dye, we are stained forever more. Stained by experience, stained by sin. Some sins can never be forgiven. Ive been hither a month, waiting... if only we had something to do, but then we do not feel like playing games anymore. The state of warfare is nothing like I expected it to be, like the games of my childhood, with those littler bet sol departrs and the toy guns; no system was ever yearn then. But this is reality. Reality. We thought the war would be over by Christm as, and it wasnt. We left happily and joyously to sound in that stink-hole called a trench! What fools we were! We know the trueness now, but we learnt the hard way. As we sit here our minds candidacy frantically seeking sanctuary from the horrors of the war.

My nieghbour is from the same battalion as me. He stares at me with his eyes, his reprehensible red infected eyes. His body is covered in blisters - plaguy ones... But not as painful as his memory. I hear him screaming when he sleeps, it worries me greatly. Hes lucky that he didnt die but is it worse to live like this than live at all? I wonder if I screa m in the night. Visions have come to me in t! he night, If you inadequacy to get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

If you want to get a full essay, visit our page: cheap essay