...War Stories

...Success meant history. I was poised. But the scene on the beach was desperate. Since the ships could not get closer to the shore line, we had to make up the distance to the beach. One by one we jumped into the water hurling towards the beach. Sinking under the mass of my arms, I had to find my footing quickly so as not to stumble in the chest-deep waves, and fight the enemy, who, standing on the dry land, could easily kill and maim my battalion.

The arduous task to me beset nothing but the fear of losing, if it has to be admitted, and I took pleasure in firing back. The alacrity and enthusiasm of my enemy was overwhelmingly unencumbered by my continuous advance towards the beach. I kept firing and held onto the trigger of my weapon. Shells dropped and I saw my comrades sink and their bodies rise up onto the water's surface after a few seconds, maybe minutes. I turned to look towards the ship I had just jumped out of as it slowly started its retreat into the deep of the ocean. I looked around me to discover I was surrounded by bodies floating in the waters. I turned back to face the enemy even more enraged.

I was not going to lose, I thought as I could hear my commander over the radio call for air support. Explosions hailed our advance towards land. The enemy stood its grounds and we lost even more men. I don't know how many men the enemy lost.

A sudden seismic tremor and I felt my knee go limb. The waves swayed with even more rage as my mass sank into the water. I felt a sharp pain on my left side and tried to push my body over the surface of the water and started to beat the waves arm in hand. I was close enough to the sand. As I pulled my besieged weight out of the water, I felt the deepest relief I could imagine. I was out of the water and for that moment had conquered something, I thought. One victory, one more to go and immediately took back to firing my weapon.

The enemy was resilient. As I kept firing, I wondered whether victory meant as much to them as it did to me. Wondered whether they understood why I was fighting for my country. Wondered whether they would understand if I explained my personal views on the situation to them. Wondered whether if I waved the white flag, the opponent soldier would take me for a lassy. The thunderous roar and shelling didn't stop. It felt at times as if I the earth had gone into a turbulent spin and the had abruptly shifted. Sporadic cries for help immediately quelled by the tempestuous explosions and firing machine guns.

Impaired by my inability to run, my regiment went ahead of me and as I lay unmolested on the sand among the dead and the dying, waiting to be airlifted to a care center, I looked up to capture the most unique view of the battlefield: The awful events passing lay beneath my view; nor was there aught to interrupt my observation save a few bodily twitches, the pangs of prostrated ambition, and the shot and shells which burst close, or nearly cut the ground from under me.

In my thoughts, the birth and growth of my young soul had three midwives: Democracy, God, and Luck...

... I shook to discover it was all a dream and I was actually still laying in the comfort of my sheets and comforter. I was elated to know I was not hurt. It was all a dream I thought, a dream that was so real. Wow! As I reveled in the premise, I turned my TV to MSNBC and my elation at my finding out that I was safe from war was shortlived. Israel and Lebanon were still at it. Iran won't listen to the UN security council. Dub-ya still has US troops in Iraq. Diplomacy with North Korea is stalling. The anti-terrorism war seemed to be in full gear. People are still dying in Dafur. Same story for the Southwestern parts of Central African Republic. The list goes on...