PLEASE READ Hello. This is my first draft for my GCSE narrative. It needs editing and is far too long. Please help by reading it and giving advice and criticism. Please help thank you. "I'm not coming and that's the end of it." I cried, and maybe I should have been true to my word. This all happened on the battle fields of France, the Great War, in 1917. Trench warfare, it's the most horrific warfare to have ever been used. I wasn't having it. I had been forced to join this godforsaken war. Sixteen, I'm only sixteen years old, and this I where I was. "Get out there!" He yelled, the commander. My comrades scrambled over the trench while kicking mud in my face. But I couldn't bring myself to look over the trench. I could hear enough. "Get up here troop!" He shouted at me. But still I couldn't go over. So I cried, I cried for my mother, father and two beautiful sisters. But I lifted my head and scrambled up the muddy bank into what was hell on earth. * * * * The exhilarating feeling of war. The feeling of power. The power to kill with a simple flex of my finger. "Go, go, go." I ordered my men forwards. The thrill of the fight pumped through us as we mowed down the enemy. Seven of us took out thirty. Forty. Then fifty. And we had made it to the enemies' trench. We jumped down. Five of us left. We split into two groups. One of my soldiers and I went to the left. The other three to the right. We could take anyone. * * * * Bullets flew towards me, bombs fell from above, destroying everything in sight. And I stood staring as men gave their lives. I could see it happening. Only a month earlier I had been in our corner in Liverpool working with my mother. I could still turn around; still go back. But go back to what? It was only a matter of time before this horror came to Britain. So I ran. I ran straight forward jumping over barbed wire. But then and there right in front of me I saw a man fall. His body parts screen around across the mud. A man who had be stuck in the wire, men just like me, dead. And this is what it's come to. Humanity has resorted to this because of one mans death. * * * * We turned the corner. No one. Then footsteps. Slow and wet. Two shadows accompanied them. They turned the corner. And we shot. They had no chance. We moved on, never fearing. Adrenalin pumped through our veins. We turned the next corner to find a man hiding I'm the dug out. His shot hit my comrade, he was down. And I fired. * * * * I hid in a bomb crater. It was too much. I could barely look at the enemy let alone shoot them. I had seen enough death and was far from okay with dealing with it. So not for the first time this month, I wept and prayed. I wept in the mud amongst the dead. And as I prayed all I could see was their dead bodies. The horror of war was a scar in my mind. And all I could think is, I'm next. As if answering my prayer a young soldier came over the muddy bank. He would finish me of. He had to. But he didn't shoot, he just walked over and sat next to me. Why? Why would he do that? "Ridiculous" he said with a thick German accent. "I got forced to come." He said all too knowingly. "What's worst is that men enjoy this. They love the killing, the blood, they find this fun." There was a long pause. "Kill me." I muttered. "Kill me now." "What?" "You know gun. Kill. Bang bang." "I know what it is. I'm not doing it. You don't give up because you are threatened. You don't back away because of others' wrong doing. You make a stand. You make a stand for what is right. " And that gave me hope. Hope in humanity. But I couldn't carry on. So I took my gun and pointed at my head. What I had seen was enough, so I pulled the trigger. And now as I lay here a remember my #life and my childhood. We used to pretend to be soldiers, but we knew nothing of the horrors of war, nothing. * * * * Just me as I turned the next corner. There was a soldier, and as I lifted my gun I noticed my watch. Five o'clock, it was almost time for tea. So we all went inside.