Copyright – J. Hardy Carroll
They say your whole life flashes before you at the end, but Jimmy recalled only boots pounding on bitumen, endless lines of marching men, and flag-waving crowds cheering them on to the great adventure. They’d be home by Christmas.
He lay dying in reeking mud, numb from cold, amid shell-bursts and machine-gun stutter. Around him, other men fought on.
Then in the gloom he saw a distant blur – pale, swirling, drifting closer, taking shape: his sisters in light summer dresses, laughing, twirling in play. He smiled.
He never heard the screams as the gas cloud rolled in.
*****
It’s a sombre one this week for Friday Fictioneers, but the prompt provided by Rochelle, fitting for Remembrance Day, leads to sombre thoughts. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting the weekly event where writers contribute 100 word stories in response to a photo.
Onto the page 
Thank goodness he was oblivious to what was happening. Thoughtful and beautifully written.
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Thank you, JS. He was in a much better place.
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Graphic description of what could have happened. I de-romantices (?) war without taking away from heroism and loss.
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It was difficult to get the tone right with this one, which is why it took me so long to post it. I’m glad it worked for you – thank you for responding.
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You described so well in the first paragraph the marching men. I can see their feet moving in unison.
And the sadness, of course. It extends to what has happened in Paris last night. A different war but maybe just the same.
Lily
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I wanted the visual images to carry the meaning, so I’m very happy you saw it this way. Thank you. The news from Paris is truly awful – as you say, the same evil, just in a different guise.
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War is a bad idea, no matter how you look at it. This is a wonderful reminder.
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Thank you, Alicia. It was a difficult one to write.
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Good piece. You put us in the foxhole along side your protagonist. Good imagery.
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I’m glad you like the images. I wanted to get that part of it right. Thanks once again for your feedback, Tracey.
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beautiful, sad story. well done.
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Thank you, Plaridel. It’s difficult to write about such a topic.
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For our tomorrow they gave their todays. Well written.
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Thank you, Liz. It’s essential that we keep their sacrifice in mind, even though we don’t seem to learn much from it.
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Sad story, very realistic.
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Thank you, Gah.
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Beautifully written, Margaret. I guess he missed the worst of it, although that’s hard to say. War is so awful yet they continue.
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He passed away peacefully, in a vision of childhood – better than seeing the reality of the incoming gas. Thank you for your lovely response Amy.
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Dear Margaret,
My father was wounded in WWII. I said that he lay in the mud, no longer caring whether he lived or died. Your story put me in mind of that. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I’m sorry to hear that your father suffered that horrible experience. It’s difficult to write about such things, knowing that we’d prefer to put them behind us and move on, but we have to keep such memories alive in the hope that someday we will learn something from them. Thank you, as always, for your encouraging feedback.
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Like Edwin Starr in prose.
Good piece.
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Interesting comparison. You got me googling for hours with this reference. Then I forgot to post a reply – so forgive the delay, and thanks once again for your comment, Mick.
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Sorry Margaret, I should not assume everyone shares my predilection for pacifist anthems.
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I certainly share the sentiments, perhaps just not the musical knowledge. I enjoyed myself googling this one.
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Good story, Margaret. Whoever said, “War is hell.” was certainly right. The poison gas used in WWI made it more so. I heard of one man who lost his teeth, and of another who came home with holes in his lungs. Well written. — Suzanne
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That war produced some horrific weapons. Every time I read or watch something about it I’m shocked again by the scale of the suffering. Thank you for your feedback, Suzanne, and sorry I forgot to respond sooner.
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