My Dear Darling (4)

Read the previous letters here:

My Dear Darling series 

Day 6
My Dear Darling,

     There has been a change in our plan. Things are not going well and we have been forced to return to out post. The only solace I find in this is that I can write you sooner than I expected to. You might wonder why I am telling you details of our actions.  Do not worry, my dear. It is safe for me to write such vague informs that everyone already knows. 

     On our way back, we had to hunt some game for food. I killed a lovely deer.  We could not use our guns for a fear of being heard. So shooting it down was not an option. The amount of stealth and speed it required was tremendous. It was almost like a training exercise. It was grazing so peacefully, quite a sight to look at. I sneaked upon it from behind. I stabbed through it’s neck even before I landed from my leap. The thrill ran high in my blood, until I saw it’s thick red blood gushing from the deep wound. Very soon, I am going to kill people, just like I hunted this little animal down. Somehow, killing another person is wrong, while what I just did is right. 

     Memories of the people I murdered in the last war surged, draining me of all the excitement. My appetite was gone, as I sit  there with the deer wailing in pain, watching the steady flow of blood turn to a slow ooze, making a puddle around it. The stench of blood thickened the air, suffocating me with the memories of active battlefields. 

     Visions of such gore only led me to think about you, basking under the warm morning sun, singing in your sweet voice. The picture of you sitting on the green meadows, waiting with a smile and a basket of food, swimmed before my eyes. I long for those moments now every time I see food or when I am hungry. 

     I hope you are not worrying your health by keeping your thoughts on me too much that you refuse to take enough sustenance. Another cold night passes here, with remembered sound of your musical voice.

Soldier in love. 

Image source: Pixabay 



Think again

Image source

  It has been months. We’ve run out of our rations days ago. My troop of once mighty soldiers now scrawny is the only regiment left, and the enemy knows it too. While it searches for us like a wolf stalking its prey, we huddle in the dark hole, planning our last ditch effort to win the war. It was only a matter of time before we died anyway. 

     We were hurt, tired, hungry and scared. We had no firearms save the small throw dagger each. There wasn’t much to plan either. “Infiltrate. Blow up.” A fellow soldier repeated after me. Stupidest plan ever. I know. We need to pick up weapons and explosives from the enemy soldiers we kill on the way to their command center.

    We set out quiet as mice, inching our way out of the hole and into the enemy camps. At least five of us had to make it to the command center with enough C-4. I signalled a final goodbye to my best friend and we spread out. 

    It took me four blood baths to reach the center. I was lucky to have gone undetected through that mess. I looked at my watch, hiding in whatever shadow I could find. Ten minutes to mark. Time to set the bombs. 

    The moment I had to put my biggest trust in my soldiers ticked closer. Six…Five…Four…Three…Two…One. I pressed the trigger and the east side of the camp exploded into an inferno, the heat wave throwing me back several feet. My ears ringing and head pounding, I looked up. The entire camp was ablaze. My team had come through.

    One by one we gathered in the old abandoned school amidst the loud silence of grievance and quiet cries of pain. I turned hearing my name to see my friend rushing towards me. Relief washed over me hard and fast, it almost hurt physically.  We found a quiet corner to debrief. 

   “We lost three.” He said. Though they were good men lost, it was much lower than I anticipated. 

   “One lucky day I guess. I ran into four different groups and made it out.” I said.

   “Think again.” Was all he said.

    The truth dawned, striking a chill over me as I looked over the old building that had whoever remained alive, injured or not.

    “This war is not over yet.” Words came out of my mouth no louder than a whisper.

   “Come on! It’s 8 already. Wake up!” My mom’s voice rang loud as a bell.