So for my intro to theatre class i had to write a story using my imagination and this is what i came up with:
As I lay here, the deafening boom still ringing in my ears I worry not for my own safety but for the safety of my fellow soldiers. They were lucky enough not to be shot, yet unlucky for they are still out there fighting. I am sitting here in the medic tent in the blistering heat, awaiting the news. Will I heal up and go back to fighting or will I be sent home? I am still unaware of what I did to my leg when I fell. The enemy fire knocked the wind out of me and pushed me to the ground. The nurses are hustling and bustling around me. I can tell from their chatter more enemy fire has terrorized the camp. More soldiers have been hurt, and many more killed. My eyes wander to a newspaper. They object to the war. They believe we are doing nothing over here, that we have no right or need to be here. Those lying at home in their nice warm quiet houses, playing with their children, going to work, and school and living their lives don't realize that everyday we fight to keep them safe. They protest, and complain. They want the war to end. They think we don't also want to go back home to our families, our children, our lovers, our nieces and nephew, brother and sisters and friends. As the pain medicine the brave nurse has given me slowly begins to take hold I grab hold of a pen and paper. I must get my thoughts down on paper before I can no longer even hold the pen. As my thoughts begin to slow I write:
For all the free people that still protest, you're welcome,
We protect you and you are protected by the best
Your voice is strong and loud, but who will fight for you
No one standing in your crowd.
We are fathers, brothers, and sons
wearing the boots, carrying the guns.
We are the ones who leave all we own,
to make sure your future is carved in stone.
We are the ones who fight and die.
We might not be able to save the world, we'll at least try.
We walked the path to where we're at
and we want no choice other than that.
So when you rally your group to complain,
take a look in the back of your brain.
In order for that flag you love to fly
wars must be fought and young men must die.
We came here to fight for the ones we hold dear
If that's not respected, we would rather stay here.
So please stop yelling and put down your signs,
and pray for those behind enemy lines.
When the conflict is over and all is well,
be thankful that we chose to go through hell.
The pen drops to his side as he allows the pain medicine to take him away into his dreams about ever holding his newborn son in his arms and wrapping his arms around his young new bride.
As I lay here, the deafening boom still ringing in my ears I worry not for my own safety but for the safety of my fellow soldiers. They were lucky enough not to be shot, yet unlucky for they are still out there fighting. I am sitting here in the medic tent in the blistering heat, awaiting the news. Will I heal up and go back to fighting or will I be sent home? I am still unaware of what I did to my leg when I fell. The enemy fire knocked the wind out of me and pushed me to the ground. The nurses are hustling and bustling around me. I can tell from their chatter more enemy fire has terrorized the camp. More soldiers have been hurt, and many more killed. My eyes wander to a newspaper. They object to the war. They believe we are doing nothing over here, that we have no right or need to be here. Those lying at home in their nice warm quiet houses, playing with their children, going to work, and school and living their lives don't realize that everyday we fight to keep them safe. They protest, and complain. They want the war to end. They think we don't also want to go back home to our families, our children, our lovers, our nieces and nephew, brother and sisters and friends. As the pain medicine the brave nurse has given me slowly begins to take hold I grab hold of a pen and paper. I must get my thoughts down on paper before I can no longer even hold the pen. As my thoughts begin to slow I write:
For all the free people that still protest, you're welcome,
We protect you and you are protected by the best
Your voice is strong and loud, but who will fight for you
No one standing in your crowd.
We are fathers, brothers, and sons
wearing the boots, carrying the guns.
We are the ones who leave all we own,
to make sure your future is carved in stone.
We are the ones who fight and die.
We might not be able to save the world, we'll at least try.
We walked the path to where we're at
and we want no choice other than that.
So when you rally your group to complain,
take a look in the back of your brain.
In order for that flag you love to fly
wars must be fought and young men must die.
We came here to fight for the ones we hold dear
If that's not respected, we would rather stay here.
So please stop yelling and put down your signs,
and pray for those behind enemy lines.
When the conflict is over and all is well,
be thankful that we chose to go through hell.
The pen drops to his side as he allows the pain medicine to take him away into his dreams about ever holding his newborn son in his arms and wrapping his arms around his young new bride.
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