WEN: 2260EE
Exhibitor Name: Jeshua Wickham
Division: Creative Writing--
Class: 04 Short Stories (
Henry stood, heart beating rapidly , facing the advancing red lines of men. Wave upon wave marched up and took their places, bayonets glittering in the bright sunlight, a dazzling and intimidating sight. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and checked to make sure that his rifle was loaded. Next to him stood Randall, cheerful as always. “Say, won’t this be fun? Our first full pitched battle.” They had been in the army a couple months, and though they had taken part in some fights and skirmishes, this was truly their first full-on combat. Randall continued. “The fellows back home will be mad with envy when they find out. None of them could get in as recruits.” Henry grinned, Randall would be the one to think of that. “Good luck old chap,” said Henry as the men took up their positions. “I’ll hope to see you on the other side of this, but if not. . .” An order from the commander silenced him. “Steady men, get ready.” Henry straightened up and raised his rifle slowly. His hands were cold and sweaty. Taking a deep breath he tried to still his racing heart. “Take aim. Fire!” The battle began. Henry discharged his piece, and proceeded to coolly load it once more. His nervousness had disappeared with the first shot. The familiar feel of the rifle in his hands soon set him at ease. He fired with the second volley, and the third. Randall was nowhere to be seen. The battle was rapidly becoming a horrible confusion. Men fell on all sides. The British line began to retreat in good order, and in the sudden surge after them Henry was swept up the hill with the rebel forces, and found himself pushed to the front lines. All was chaos and confusion. The thundering of cannon, the shouting of orders. Suddenly, the British turned and fell upon the pursuing Americans. The retreat had been a ruse. The rebels were completely routed, pushed back with terrible slaughter. “All is lost, all is lost!” Came the wild cry. Men everywhere broke line and fled, despite the haranguing of the officers. Henry, seeing there was nothing for it but retreat, was turning to flee when he was stopped by a sudden sharp stab of pain. He keeled over, his senses reeling. Fleetingly, he thought of his mother. Must she lose him too? The world spun around in a dizzying black whirlpool that consumed all his senses, until it faded into unconscious nothingness. . . . . . Randall opened his eyes slowly. His head ached dully. Where? What? He endeavored to raise his head. The sky began to spin. He lay back and breathed deeply, his memory coming back to him.
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