Hero of War
Bitter Continuance
A hand clapped his shoulder making him jump. “You alright man?” Jerry asked tilting his head to the side. The man nodded. This wasn’t the time to back out now. He had to be at his best for this. He looked down at the gun in his hands. He was almost certain that his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath. This was what he had signed up for after all. He knew what was coming didn’t he? He could hear the commander shouting out the orders reading all of them.
He leapt from the van with the rest of his companions, throwing himself into battle with the rest of them. He didn’t hear bombs or gunshots like he thought he would. The square was deathly silent actually. An eerie quiet that seemed to seep into him and attack his mind. He shook it off refusing to let him affect him. They were all alert, listening for any sound, any indication that the enemy was nearby.
Someone shouted something and everyone started looking towards what the soldier saw. The man looked with them and saw a child coming towards him. The little boy couldn’t be anymore than four, wearing nothing but a shirt and crying. The man didn’t even notice what was in his clinched hand. He simply shoved his gun around to his back and started running towards the child. Someone was shouting his name, but he couldn’t hear it.
The child opened his tiny fist and a grenade fell from it. Arms wrapped around the man’s waist. He felt himself being spun around and then an explosion rocked the air.
He bolted up in his bed, pain ripping through his legs, legs he no longer had. He fell back in his bed, his body racked with tears. He tried to tell himself that it was just a dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It had happened. And tomorrow, he would be accepting the Iraq Campaign Medal. Jerry’s face flashed before his mind’s eye and he laughed bitterly as he sat up once again and swung the stubs of his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled his wheelchair towards himself and deposited his body in the seat.
Well-built arms pushed him towards the living room of his apartment. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from under one of the couch’s cushions where his sister hadn’t been able to find it. He pulled off the lid and took a deep pull letting the alcohol soak his brain and allowing him to forget for a little while.
He leapt from the van with the rest of his companions, throwing himself into battle with the rest of them. He didn’t hear bombs or gunshots like he thought he would. The square was deathly silent actually. An eerie quiet that seemed to seep into him and attack his mind. He shook it off refusing to let him affect him. They were all alert, listening for any sound, any indication that the enemy was nearby.
Someone shouted something and everyone started looking towards what the soldier saw. The man looked with them and saw a child coming towards him. The little boy couldn’t be anymore than four, wearing nothing but a shirt and crying. The man didn’t even notice what was in his clinched hand. He simply shoved his gun around to his back and started running towards the child. Someone was shouting his name, but he couldn’t hear it.
The child opened his tiny fist and a grenade fell from it. Arms wrapped around the man’s waist. He felt himself being spun around and then an explosion rocked the air.
He bolted up in his bed, pain ripping through his legs, legs he no longer had. He fell back in his bed, his body racked with tears. He tried to tell himself that it was just a dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It had happened. And tomorrow, he would be accepting the Iraq Campaign Medal. Jerry’s face flashed before his mind’s eye and he laughed bitterly as he sat up once again and swung the stubs of his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled his wheelchair towards himself and deposited his body in the seat.
Well-built arms pushed him towards the living room of his apartment. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from under one of the couch’s cushions where his sister hadn’t been able to find it. He pulled off the lid and took a deep pull letting the alcohol soak his brain and allowing him to forget for a little while.