Experience of a War Correspondent

My career as a war correspondent was on Spring but my life seeming closer to its ultimate end. Like I kept on discovering what I signed up for. But in the middle of a full-blown war, there’s no turning back. It was the 9th of July, after series of gruesome battles consisting of heavy artilleries like I’ve never iconographed. The red coats finally drove those yellow monsters out of these bordering communities, it was a quick retreat. My heart could finally rest just a while before another moribund experience. Left by these monsters was ruin of humanity. Upon reclaiming our lost grounds, we met the remains of a collision of helpless civilians with wild animals.
They tortured civilians in many villagers, nailed lots on barn doors. In a farmland, just further down the road stood a cart to which 3 naked women were nailed through their hands like a crucifix. I almost threw up, but beyond we found a total of 67 women and an old man murdered in such bestial manner. Exceptions were those who had bullet holes in different parts of their bodies.
Every female including those as young as 11 had been raped, old men trying to save their loved ones were if not sawed into 2 were cut into bits. Hidden in a wardrobe laid an infant probably months old, a bullet hole on her head; blood everywhere. On streets road, you could pick up human meat squashed by military tankers. The few survivors found in sewage tanks and gutters were horrified by their ordeals of hell on earth. These crackled bulging eyes needed reasons to thrust in humanity before they pop.