"Jimmy and Vimy"

March 24th,1917

He was cold, not the type of cold of a crisp fall morning, but the type of cold that paralyzes you unable to move un able to speak. Jim’s cold lifeless eyes consume me a chill running down my spine I wanted him to wake up, but his soul was gone there was nothing left. Sounds of shells being fired and a loud ringing. My friend is gone? How am I supposed to tell his parents? It is all my fault he is only seventeen he was innocent, innocence the war blew away. I began to scream as loud as possible shaking him. “Jimmy wake up! You must get up…get the hell up I need you. You can not be gone no, no, no.” Rocking back and forth with his icy cheek against mine crying tears creating mud with the dirt on my face, suddenly I am pulled away I am silent as my friend’s body disappears in the distance.