Soldier's Insanity

The rain pelted down on the earth, drenching everything under its merciless assault. I can’t differentiate the sounds of what’s man-made or nature. The gunshots, ricochet of bullets hid behind the splattering of the water droplets. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light…

“BOOM”

Was that thunder? No, I thought to myself. The trees don’t shiver in fear when thunder rolls. It was an explosion… and it was close. Taking aim at a moving shadow, I held my breath and squeezed the trigger. The rifle recoiled against my shoulder as it shot off a round and reloaded itself. Let the sun set faster please. The longer the twilight last, the more I see of my enemies’ faces. From behind what was a mini bus before it got wrecked from an air strike, another trooper ran menacingly towards my position. I saw his features before the inevitable happened. A dozen ghostly faces bearing similarities to the original appeared as a bullet penetrated his skull from the forehead and ended the last sprint in his life. Damn it! I cursed under my breath while returning to my cover. The faces of the ghosts belonged to the dead soldier’s family. My imagination goes into overdrive, creating faces that bore features to the one I’m about to kill. Guilt feels my wretched heart with every life I take. I fight for my loved ones and so do my enemies. I held my rifle close to my chest while I half dragged a young private behind. The poor kid’s shaken up badly. He was shot in the leg. A ghastly wound bleeding profusely exposing a splintered femur bone. No screams… am I dragging a hopeless corpse? He’s still panting. The adrenaline rushing into his brain must have shut out the pain from his brain. It won’t last long... I found a wall that’s still standing under the barrage of war. Without second thoughts, I pushed him behind the safety of the wall and took aim for any enemy soldiers in our trail.

“Ma….mummy…” came a soft whimpering. Looking back at the wounded soldier behind me, I lowered my rifle. He started frantically scratching against his left breast pocket. He was trying to pull out his issued bandage; obviously the numbness is ebbing away from his consciousness. Unbuttoning his pocket, I took out the packed bandage and ripped away the covers from the white gauze. Choking back his tears, the soldier trembled as I applied pressure on his wound to stop the bleeding. It was a futile as using cotton wool to plug a running tap. Thick red liquid gushed out of the gruesome cavity soaking the bandage as most immediately. “Medic!” I shouted over the din.

The soldier was sobbing uncontrollably as he pulled out my side arm and shoved the barrel into his mouth. I was too late when I turned my attention back to him. Blood smeared my face as a gaping hole appeared at the back of his head. “Perfect waste of ammo” I spat. I emptied the dead kid’s webbing of remaining ammunitions and ordinance before re-embarking on my guilt trip. I don’t want my kid to go through war. I don’t want my loved ones to live with angst and heartache. I have to eliminate any threats to that and survive. With renewed vigor and a fresh magazine, I charged straight for the front line.