Descriptive Piece on War

Tens of comrades, brave and young. Their last wishes reduced to screams of pain, heard but never known. All they saw was the advancing enemy, the shouts of gunfire and their bodies crumpling to the floor as they drew their last breath. I saw the look of fear crucified to their faces, like masks of horror as I crawled, breathing the dust and smoke that clogged the air.

But that wasn't the worst part. It was the smell. It was the bodies that littered the floor, it was in the air, it was in the smell of gunpowder and blood. Spilt blood on the rubble, painted with bullets, the creation of hate and frenzy. Blood from people I knew, friendships borne and lost through war. People that I would never get to see again.