She crawled her way out of the sand hole. In the pitch black darkness, she pushed out the hundreds of soldiers trying to reach the surface, always up and into the air and into the night. Then she ran for her life towards the sea. She had to reach the deep blue before the sun came up.
Enemy fire was constant. Aerial attacks and heavy artillery. Her brothers and sisters were hit all around her, decapitated, dismembered, their bodies one moment in motion, the next moment lifeless. There was no time to think, only to run.
She reached the surf. A giant wave took her away from the carnage. Now the attack was submarine. She could hear the screams of terrified soldiers underwater. She swam, swam and swam, she would never give up.
The day was gone when she reached the first mat of sargasso. The floating weed, a life-saver oasis in the middle of a liquid salty desert. She slept long and hard tucked into the lush copper green. Hunger came next. A jellyfish was within reach. A tasty snack for the tired soldier. A first bite, and the pestilence of the human world reached her. For the jellyfish was petroleum incarnated into a plastic bag, discarded, and turned into a wall of death.
The baby sea turtle never had a chance.