My poem

MY DYING CONRAD

we cough and fall over in the mud as we march forward in the front line,My mates are so sore they can't stand up anymore.

We turn around to get away from the front line we are scared we hear bullets coming from behind us.

We are tired and exhausted we stumble as we try to walk some of us are crawling to get away,we walk or crawl just to get out of here,its like they have no feet to walk on we just keep falling over. W      e are all grumbled up and not talking at all and when they do make a sound they scream in pain.

“GAS GAS cover your mouths don't open your mouths”

Get your gas mask on everyone apart from one gets theirs on and theirs one person who didn't get it on he was called johnny he was screaming as the gas went into his lungs he was yelling help but people were too busy getting theirs on so no one could help him

The gas got thicker you couldn't see you were trying to find your people but its like they weren't there the gas was a dark green colour. You could here you soldiers yelling where are you guys.

And there i see johnny hes trying to find something to help him but i can’t help him hes screaming help me help me. But its then i realize that he is going to die.

we load him into the wagon it was my job to walk behind the wagon and he just happened to be in my site and i watch him suffer i could start to see his throat closing on him.He goes gray. suddenly he goes quiet and still he stops moving he stops breathing he stops suffering.

Then a whole heap of blood came out of his mouth as they went around a corner his lungs turned to liquid. The sound was like he was choking on blood then the next corner another hole heap of blood came up again  i feel like i should throw up. His body is covered of his own blood. Even the smell was bad.

If you had smelt and saw or felt what people did you would never say again that it was glorious to die for country.