All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Beach
I remember the ships. Fighting against the surf. Dark green battling blue. The endless
pounding. The motor, a constant noise in the background. The commander shouted orders, but I
couldn't hear them. I already knew what we were getting ourselves into anyway. We were merely
the first wave to reach the beach. The pawns in a game of chess. We got closer to the beach. Two
hundred yards. Shouting more orders. I remember going numb at the sight of the land mines.
One hundred yards. That's when my body braced itself for the beach. I stiffened. The weight on
my back was nothing. The gun in my hand was nothing. Then, the doors opened. The wall of
men was shot down. I jumped overboard to avoid the bullets. I swam. And once I stopped
swimming, I ran. I could see the blood and my dead comrades, but self-preservation came first. I
shot back. I couldn't care who they were, whether they had wives, kids. I shot back because they
shot first. I had to shoot back. And run. I had to run.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.