Bayonet Charge

In order for you to understand the short story I have written, you are going to have to read the poem 'Bayonet Charge' by Ted Huges. I have printed the copy of the poem in the first chapter. In the second chapter I have written my story based on the events that happen in the poem. You will see some quotes from the poem in my story.

Bayonet Charge is about a soldiers experience in the war, and all the emotions he goes through.


2. Bayonet Charge - My story

I fell asleep, sound in peace. My head rested on a white feather filled pillow, which was as soft as the cotton plants that grew in the fields. A beautiful large patchwork quilted blanket covered me, as the snow covered the very tops of the highest mountains. Abruptly a cold breeze was felt upon me. I wanted t dive deeper and deeper into my blanket, but found it was no longer there. I twisted at turned, trying to find warmth. All I found was isolation.

I heard noises in the distance. Harsh cries echoed in the air. Slashing of swords made me cringe and the firing of bullets were deafening. Progressively, the sounds grew louder and louder. My eardrums were throbbing from the sound of loud drums. I twisted and turned, my hands spontaneously covered my ears, hoping to prevent any sound from entering. Nevertheless, I failed miserably.

“Ted!” someone called my name. Something or someone was shaking me. “Ted!” there it was again. Who was calling me? I pushed the source away and groaned, my body aching, my ears going deaf. Unexpectedly there was the sound of a cannon going off. I woke up, startled by what I saw.

I found myself running, suddenly realising where I was. Through the thick cloud of brown dust, I saw bodies drown into the grasping mud. The sights of blood were everywhere, where you looked. Bullets were smacking the belly out of the air. Death lingered in every corner of this life ending landscape. Just then, I had a sudden realisation, that the peaceful experience I had was just a dream. None of it was real, but the sounds I had heard. The sounds I heard became more louder as I regained consciousness.

I stumbled across a field of clods towards a green hedge. The patriotic tear that had brimmed in my eye, was for both, my country and myself. This redeemed pride within, that kept me running. My legs ached, but I still kept running. I pushed passed the bullets, whilst other soldiers crashed to the ground. I had to fight it. However, why? ‘Why?’ was the question I was asking myself, causing me to stop in bewilderment.

Everything around me blurred and the harsh cries, now silent. For a moment, I was the only one left in this death hole of a place. The tear that had brimmed in my eye, now strolled slowly down my cheek. The starts and the nations feel nothing of what I feel now. Confusion gathered inside me, but my conscience took over and gave me strength. I had to succeed and survive. Suddenly I was pulled back again, in to the work of reality.

I ran like a man who jumped up in the dark and ran. I ran listening to my own footfalls, which were the reason I was still running. When I strode my foot hung in mid statuary. Only then I saw, that before me, threw up a yellow hare. It rolled like a flame, and crawled in a threshing circle. Its mouth wide open. Silent. Its eyes were standing out.

What I saw was beyond any nightmare. It was so terrifying, that I should have been scarred. Scarred for life. My heart stopped for a brief second, hoping it would disappear when I blinked. No matter how hard I tried, it remained. I stood still for a moment, gathering all of the courage that was left inside me.

I plunged past with my bayonet, toward the green hedge. On my way, I killed people who now whimpered and cried until death got them. I’d killed people I didn’t even know. Strangers. I’d forgotten all about my king, honour and human dignity and charged. Forgetting everything in order to survive. To get out of that blue crackling air. To escape from the battle. My terrors touchy dynamite.

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