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Creative Writing: Ernest and The Sargeant Essay

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The afternoon sun shined down Ernest's back as he stood on his toes to get a look over the trench wall. All of the men had been warned not to look over, despite the natural inclination to do so. Even when there was no attack at the moment, a random sniper shot could bring death to a soldier on his first day of service. “Johnson!” Ernest quickly lowered back down into the trench. He turned to the sergeant behind him. “Do you want to get killed Private?” The sergeant barked. “No sir!” Ernest hastily replied. He crouched back down into the trench as the sergeant left him. He looked down the trench. To his left were several more soldiers, some sleeping, waiting to be awoken by the sounds of gunfire, others crouched down uncomfortably, waiting for orders. To his right, the soldiers currently on pumping duty worked hard to keep the trench water free. It was hardly working though, as the floor of the trench was almost completely mud, with a few solid patches. He dozed off for a second staring down the trench, then looked away. If he hadn't become used to the smell of the trench, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. The distant odor of poisonous gas from the night before, the smell of rotting sandbags and stagnant mud, the smell of dirty clothes that hadn't been cleaned in months, and a scent of food reminiscing from breakfast all combined to make the worst odor possible. Soldiers new to the trenches were traumatized by it. He turned to the soldier next to him. “I wish something would happen just to get this over with,” Ernest said. “Did you see anything when you looked up?” The soldier queried. “The fog was too thick, it might of cleared up by now though.” he replied. “I will check,” the soldier whispered as he looked around ...


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...mbed on the fire-step. After about an hour of watching for motion, his tired body began to slump. He tried to keep himself awake, but couldn't resist the urges, and fell asleep.

He was soon awakened to the sight of the glaring sergeant. No one had to say a word, he knew what was coming as he was led towards a empty area behind the trenches. “Sorry private, just following orders.” The sergeant declared as Ernest was tied firmly to a lonely tree. He couldn't help but think of all the other soldiers who had died by the hands of their own leaders on this very spot. Three soldiers stood by, ordered to shoot him. He held his breath, waiting. Shots rang out as his body slumped on the rope. A pool of blood quickly gathered at his feet as a soldier untied him and buried him in a shallow grave. His blood slowly seeped into the ground as the soldiers returned to their posts.


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