The Last to Fall Mia-July Andrews, 9S He stood in the trench; the only sound louder than the bombs hitting no man’s land were the thoughts pounding in his ears. A constant fear. He was going to die, and it was going to hurt. His timid frame was nothing compared to the towering, intimidating Generals and the crumbling trench walls. The walls between false safety and almost imminent death. The walls he would eventually have to scramble over. A boy, off to do a man’s job. He’d been counting the minutes, seconds even, if the piercing screams that filled the air didn’t leave him transfixed, unable to move. Instead, he focused on his shoes. The cutting cold meant that he couldn’t feel his feet; they would have ached from walking miles anyway. They’d moved around so much he wasn’t really sure where he was anymore. “Men, take your places!” He obeyed the order in a trance like state, and before he knew it he was gripping onto the floor, gun in hand, watching the horror from behind barbed wire. “We thank you for your support, God Bless you all” were the last words he heard before his legs were carrying him into the blood bath. Dry dirt kicked up behind him as he ran, despite the weight on his back. It took everything he had to carry on, to keep pushing. Cowards would stop. Heroes would sacrifice their lives. So that’s what he did. They say our life flashes before your eyes before you die, and in that moment he knew that was a lie. He saw the pain and guilt in the German’s eyes as he pulled the trigger. He saw the blood on his hands, and almost felt content with what he had done with his life. Finally, he wandered why the guns had stopped. He wondered why there was a drastic change in atmosphere; in a place where millions of lives were lost, there shouldn’t have been joy. “It’s over!” He smiled at the words. He was the last to die. The last blood spilled. He was the last to fall. .