Personal Narrative-A War On The Western Front

A War on Three Fronts A flash of light shines in through my eyelids and burns my cornea. Muffled barrages and blasts sound through the silent ringing that overwhelms my eardrums. My eyes peel open and I turn my sore neck from side to side, as the blinding whiteness of everything presents me with the world in three. As the contrast in my pupils returns and the pestilence in my ears subsides, the Earth shaking sounds of bombs and bullets parade through my chest. The tremors not only quake in my nervous being, as even the pebbles beneath my feet quiver in the wake of the noise that assaults my senses.The jagged black rocks of the cliffed edge on the beach obtrude into my back, and I painfully roll to my right side. There, clutching the

A fellow soldier pulls him behind the rock where he is taking cover, and the other two return the fire.

“Are you OK? What happened?” I yell to my co-pilot, who looks over at me, writhing in pain. This is the first time I’ve seen his face since I looked over at him as we parachuted towards the battlefield. Moments later, our chutes were riddled in bulletholes and we began crashing towards the ground below.

“I’m fine it just hurts a ton!” He yelled with intermissions of pain induced grunts. I start to rip my sleeve off and wrap it around his leg. “You had a pretty rough landing and knocked yourself out like a dumbass. I put you on my back but they got me in the back of my leg, obviously, just before I got to this ledge. Those guys back there had our cover though.” He says pointing where the red phaser beams are striking.

I tighten the handmade tourniquet I am making with my sleeve around his wound and he lets out a gurgle of pain and throws his head back. At least it won’t get infected. That’s the nice thing about phaser beam wounds: they’re so hot that they cauterize the wound on