A Soldier’s Duty

It was War. Gunshots went off in the distance. Yells of dying soldiers filled the snow-covered distances. It was the Battle of Bulge.

Peterson, along with his partner Robertson, successfully gunned down hundreds of Nazis. They were nearing a couple bunkers-each with a sniper within them.

Peterson took out his pistol and Robertson did the same. It was tough. The rapid bullets filled the ears of the two partners; teammates; friends.

They and another squad had to clear the bunkers and wait for reinforcements. The Nazis came into the battlefield like a flood.

Robertson was about to shoot his pistol, but then it happened.

BOOM!

Peterson looked behind him to se his best friend blown to bits by a sniper. With blood everywhere, and the body of his best friend disfigured on the icy ground, Peterson’s eyes were full of tears. After working with him for over 10 years, it was the hardest of losses. The tears streamed down Peterson’s eyes.

But those eyes quickly became full of anger. Peterson darted forward toward the bunker where the sniper was.

He didn’t know how many bullets hit him, but Peterson kept on running to the bunker. He tripped a couple times, but he didn’t care, his friend’s death had to be avenged.

When Peterson got to the bunker, it was hard to go up the many flights of stairs. While he was climbing, he couldn’t get the gruesome image of his friend’s dead body out of his head.

Peterson got to the top and saw the sniper who killed Robertson. The sniper didn’t see him, though.

Peterson grabbed for his pistol but noticed that blood covered his chest. He had gotten shot 3 times while running toward the bunker. He didn’t mind.

He held the pistol at the Sniper’s head. His pistol was shaking in his hand. He was dying; he knew it. But he didn’t care.

With the pull of the trigger, the sniper collapsed onto the ground beneath him.

The sniper’s head bled and before Peterson knew it, there was a puddle of blood covering the floor where he was standing. Peterson fell to his knees, crying. His sight was getting blurry and cloudy.

His tears were streaming down his face, each one making trickles on the blood below him. That was the last thing he remembered. On that day, Lieutenant Peterson Smith died during the Battle at Bulge.

But he died on a purpose; to save his country. Dying wasn’t the hard part, it was losing the person most dear to him. Many considered Peterson the hero but he thought Robertson was the hero. He didn’t know it, but killing that sniper saved many other soldiers. That day Peterson fulfilled his duty; a soldier’s duty.