- Joined
- Dec 10, 2008
- Messages
- 185
Written last year for L.A. (English) class. The topic was resiliency.
Note** It was written last year, so it kind of sucks
I am a better writer now and I will post some newer works later. They are all in the school computer system.. 
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P.s. Did you get the reference?
Note** It was written last year, so it kind of sucks
I am a better writer now and I will post some newer works later. They are all in the school computer system.. Copper Stained
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“Move up that machine gun,” some replacement officer shouted, “We need to clear out these hedges!”
Harold charged up to the small embankment that served as the front line and slammed the bipod into the soft, glistening mud. He took the .30 caliber machine gun from Garry’s arms and locked it into place as bullets ripped the air overhead. They thumped into mud, trees, and men.
Garry held out a belt of ammo as Harold struggled to open the action. After what seemed like an eternity Harold took the belt from Garry and shoved it into place, pulled the bolt, and began throwing down suppressive fire. Thousands of bullets streaked from each side, men fell, explosions tore the terrain, and splats of mud erupted from the ground where bullets came to a halt.
The last three rounds slipped from Garry’s mud encrusted and now copper stained hands. “Runner!” he shouted. “We need a runner up here!” A man by the name of Charlie Nevou appeared through the smoke and fog and plopped down beside the two men.
“Ah, Newman, Nuskey, what can I git’ ya’ boys today eh?” He asked, considerably casual despite the situation.
“Two belts of point three-oh, hurry!” Charlie took off in the opposite direction and was back within a matter of seconds with two olive drab metal containers. “Thanks Private!” Harold shouted over the chaos.
“What, no tips?” Charlie retorted as he got up to leave.
“Well, I haven’t exactly got anythin’ on me right now. I’ll have to catch ya’ later.” Garry and Harold pried opened one of the cans and began feeding the rounds into the machine gun.
“That man really deserved a promotion. You’re a Corporal, you aught to put in a recommendation.” Garry said to Harold over the machine gun chatter.
“Duely noted,” Harold replied, “but can we talk about this later?”
Explosions erupted just on the left of their position and the air around them whirred with bits of shrapnel. The Germans were advancing quickly, the Canadians were being overrun.
“Fall back, move!” an unknown Leiftenant shouted. “Get out of there, go go go!” Garry and Harold knew immediately what was happening and they didn’t even bother grabbing the machine gun. The Germans had cut the distance between their position and the Canadians’ in half before Harold could even fully turn around. Explosions send mud and water and blood flying in every direction. Bullets riddled the terrain and many men went down.
Garry and Harold had almost made it back to the second line defense when Garry was hit in the calf. It sent him into a half spin half fall and he landed flat on his back. “Gah!” He let out a shriek of pain which brought Harold to a standstill. He immediately stumbled back into the enemy fire and grabbed his friend, picking him up and strewing him across his back. The heroic Harold made three steps before being hit in the lower back and legs multiple times. Bullets shredded both men’s flesh and they tumbled to the ground in a heap.
“G- Gar- Garry… we’re gettin’ out of here, I just need you to keep calm…” Harold tried again, picking Garry up in the same fashion and slowly starting back towards the second defense lines. This time he made it, as the enemy fire was directed to the west where the Canadians had started to get some foothold and keep the advancing Germans at bay. The two collapsed into the mud and were immediately attended to by awaiting medics.
“Garry, Garry we made it!” There was no reply… “Garry? Garry!” Harold grabbed hold of his shirt and looked into his cold, lifeless face. “No, no it can’t be! Why? Why! WHY!” Harold cursed and screamed and grabbed at one of Garry’s copper stained hands as his friend was taken away on the already bloodied and torn stretcher. The fighting was still going on around him but he didn’t care about any of that, his best friend was gone. “GARRY!”
Harold awoke in a cold sweat; he shuddered at the terrible memories of the Great War long past, at the memories of his friend’s dead, cold face. Carol awoke to the racket.
“Harold what’s wrong?” She said softly, holding him close.
“I- It’s those memories again, Carol, I’m not sure how much more I can take…”
“Shhh its okay, just go back to sleep. Everything will be alright.” The two lied back down and slowly drifted back into sleep.
The next day, Harold went out for his routine morning walk down to the Queen’s Own 1st Canadian Rifles memorial site to visit an old friend; one lost long ago. He approached the spot he knew too well, the place he had visited numerous times since the war’s end, over 50 years ago.
“Hey there, G-Garry.” Harold choked back tears. “I- I’m here… again… my family is here today as well…” Harold’s wife Caroline, his son, named after his fallen friend, and his daughter in law approached him and hugged him from behind. “I’ve never forgotten you, my friend; your sacrifice for our great country, your friendship in such hard times.” Tears began to stream from his milky blue eyes and washed over his wrinkled and cracked skin. “My family has helped me through… I miss you, old friend.”
Harold pulled a clean felt cloth from his pocket and gently wiped the various medals hanging on the tombstone. He quickly glanced over the picture of Garry in his military cap and uniform, but couldn’t bring himself to take a long look… He couldn’t bear it.
Harold died that night, peacefully in his sleep alongside his longtime life and love partner, Carol, and was buried in the memorial park alongside his long lost friend, Garry.
________________________________________________________________________
“Move up that machine gun,” some replacement officer shouted, “We need to clear out these hedges!”
Harold charged up to the small embankment that served as the front line and slammed the bipod into the soft, glistening mud. He took the .30 caliber machine gun from Garry’s arms and locked it into place as bullets ripped the air overhead. They thumped into mud, trees, and men.
Garry held out a belt of ammo as Harold struggled to open the action. After what seemed like an eternity Harold took the belt from Garry and shoved it into place, pulled the bolt, and began throwing down suppressive fire. Thousands of bullets streaked from each side, men fell, explosions tore the terrain, and splats of mud erupted from the ground where bullets came to a halt.
The last three rounds slipped from Garry’s mud encrusted and now copper stained hands. “Runner!” he shouted. “We need a runner up here!” A man by the name of Charlie Nevou appeared through the smoke and fog and plopped down beside the two men.
“Ah, Newman, Nuskey, what can I git’ ya’ boys today eh?” He asked, considerably casual despite the situation.
“Two belts of point three-oh, hurry!” Charlie took off in the opposite direction and was back within a matter of seconds with two olive drab metal containers. “Thanks Private!” Harold shouted over the chaos.
“What, no tips?” Charlie retorted as he got up to leave.
“Well, I haven’t exactly got anythin’ on me right now. I’ll have to catch ya’ later.” Garry and Harold pried opened one of the cans and began feeding the rounds into the machine gun.
“That man really deserved a promotion. You’re a Corporal, you aught to put in a recommendation.” Garry said to Harold over the machine gun chatter.
“Duely noted,” Harold replied, “but can we talk about this later?”
Explosions erupted just on the left of their position and the air around them whirred with bits of shrapnel. The Germans were advancing quickly, the Canadians were being overrun.
“Fall back, move!” an unknown Leiftenant shouted. “Get out of there, go go go!” Garry and Harold knew immediately what was happening and they didn’t even bother grabbing the machine gun. The Germans had cut the distance between their position and the Canadians’ in half before Harold could even fully turn around. Explosions send mud and water and blood flying in every direction. Bullets riddled the terrain and many men went down.
Garry and Harold had almost made it back to the second line defense when Garry was hit in the calf. It sent him into a half spin half fall and he landed flat on his back. “Gah!” He let out a shriek of pain which brought Harold to a standstill. He immediately stumbled back into the enemy fire and grabbed his friend, picking him up and strewing him across his back. The heroic Harold made three steps before being hit in the lower back and legs multiple times. Bullets shredded both men’s flesh and they tumbled to the ground in a heap.
“G- Gar- Garry… we’re gettin’ out of here, I just need you to keep calm…” Harold tried again, picking Garry up in the same fashion and slowly starting back towards the second defense lines. This time he made it, as the enemy fire was directed to the west where the Canadians had started to get some foothold and keep the advancing Germans at bay. The two collapsed into the mud and were immediately attended to by awaiting medics.
“Garry, Garry we made it!” There was no reply… “Garry? Garry!” Harold grabbed hold of his shirt and looked into his cold, lifeless face. “No, no it can’t be! Why? Why! WHY!” Harold cursed and screamed and grabbed at one of Garry’s copper stained hands as his friend was taken away on the already bloodied and torn stretcher. The fighting was still going on around him but he didn’t care about any of that, his best friend was gone. “GARRY!”
Harold awoke in a cold sweat; he shuddered at the terrible memories of the Great War long past, at the memories of his friend’s dead, cold face. Carol awoke to the racket.
“Harold what’s wrong?” She said softly, holding him close.
“I- It’s those memories again, Carol, I’m not sure how much more I can take…”
“Shhh its okay, just go back to sleep. Everything will be alright.” The two lied back down and slowly drifted back into sleep.
The next day, Harold went out for his routine morning walk down to the Queen’s Own 1st Canadian Rifles memorial site to visit an old friend; one lost long ago. He approached the spot he knew too well, the place he had visited numerous times since the war’s end, over 50 years ago.
“Hey there, G-Garry.” Harold choked back tears. “I- I’m here… again… my family is here today as well…” Harold’s wife Caroline, his son, named after his fallen friend, and his daughter in law approached him and hugged him from behind. “I’ve never forgotten you, my friend; your sacrifice for our great country, your friendship in such hard times.” Tears began to stream from his milky blue eyes and washed over his wrinkled and cracked skin. “My family has helped me through… I miss you, old friend.”
Harold pulled a clean felt cloth from his pocket and gently wiped the various medals hanging on the tombstone. He quickly glanced over the picture of Garry in his military cap and uniform, but couldn’t bring himself to take a long look… He couldn’t bear it.
Harold died that night, peacefully in his sleep alongside his longtime life and love partner, Carol, and was buried in the memorial park alongside his long lost friend, Garry.
__________________________________________
P.s. Did you get the reference?
