River of Blood and Tears- A fictional story about The Battle of the Somme
Rain. The only constant truth of the Somme. An unrelenting and unforgiving battering of thick water drops,turning the trenches into a hellish wasteland, where bullets and artillery reign supreme. Where soldiers torn apart by the horrors of have only one basic idea to hold onto. Survival. The basic animal instinct to survive against all odds, to get home to friends and family, where the embrace of normality welcome you with a warm embrace. But today is not that day. Thousands of British soldiers lay lifeless as The Fourth Army pushed to take Bazentin Bridge from German control. And Ed was in the thick of it. Curled into a trench ready for the order to rush straight into the hail of enemy fire, like a fish trying to swim up stream, defying every reasonable thought to run the other way. And then the whistle sounded willing him forwards towards the German encampment, he made his peace, hastily whispered a Hail Mary, and accepted the fact that he just might die. But, there was no time for hesitation and Ed charged, watching legions of his countrymen get cut down by lead. But his legs wouldn’t stop moving, his brain willed him forwards focusing on the singular goal of taking back the Somme from the German Army.
Strength in numbers. That’s what they always preached. The didn’t tell Ed that said numbers would be charging up a hill towards machine gun encampments spitting hellfire at them. They didn’t say that the river would flood, that Ed would watch his best friend bleed out surrounded by mud and filth, and they most certainly not say that Ed would find himself face to face with a German. When the Brits assault reached the first encampment, their momentum carried them and with their deadly bayonets ready to sting, they stormed through the trench, with any German in the way finding themselves impaled on six inches of steel. As Ed and his squad made his way through the trench they found a German private, probably a farm boy called to action just like Ed, crawling through the mud clutching a grave wound. Ed, a combat medic, knew what he must do. Crouching down he ripped out the twisted metal shrapnel, and gently rolled a bandage over the gash. He lay there next to his enemy and was startled when the German managed to whisper a weak thank-you and closed his eyes. So Ed, and this wounded German boy, lay next to each other united and separated by war.
