A personal response to war: descriptive essay

1) I felt dull spikes poke against my uniform as I crept across the field of rubble. Ahead and behind me was the dull grey of the broken concrete, with a smattering of orange from the fallen roof tiles. My comrades ahead of me looked like green specks on a sheet of ash. There was a charred stench in the air, echoed by the thud of the last pieces of rubble falling from the ruined homes. There was a bloody taste in my mouth, which tasted bitter and sweet and sour. I pulled out my camera.