The Writers' Circle

Hi guys!  I wrote this while I was at an in-between time, when I didn't have my novel with me but felt the urge to write.  Please tell me if you  think it needs work!
Audrey
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    A bullet shoots across the battlefield.  It kills yet another soldier.  Not me.  Yet.  

    I have been fighting in this stupid war for 2 months.  Already, my friends, people who I grew up with, have been shot, blood stains making their way across the itchy uniform they make us wear. Strangers, friends, now it does not matter to me, because they are gone.  Gone, dead, and never will come back.  

    I know why we are fighting, but I don't know why.  Why do they make us sacrifice our lives just to take away the hopes, dreams, and lives of others?  Why should we kill them, just because we are on different "sides"? Why can't we settle this peacefully, like the men that we are?  Why should we transform ourselves into savage beasts, just wanting to kill, kill, kill?

    Every day it gets worse.  Less food, less water, less lives to be taken.  Maybe it is best that we are all going to be dead soon.  Being dead would be better than trying to remember all of these things at once.  Duck.  Shoot.  Dodge!  Watch out!  they tell us.  More often than not, someone forgets to dodge and the bullet lodges itself in, and the body goes limp.  Who knew that a bullet could mean so much, could take so much away.  

    The other day, my friend Sam was walking to our trench.  An enemy soldier shot him before he could get there.  We just lumped his body onto the pile of other dead bodies, and moved on.  That's what we've had to learn.  It is so difficult, not like back home where everyone in town came for the funeral.  Now it just gets buried, and forgotten. 

    But that's the essence of war, isn't it? Kill, kill, kill, and move on.