A Soldiers Lament | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: A Soldiers Lament | Previous Challenge Entry
By Clayton Webb
04/16/09
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Sweat leaked out of Barry’s pores. The sun seemed angry today, it wasn’t hot it was unbearable. Barry lifted his cantina to his lips and swallowed. The cool water caressed his dry and swollen throat. He knew the only thing more dangerous than a sniper out here was dehydration. Water was a soldier’s life-blood.

Barry looked around at the rooftops, each one looking more tattered than the next. There was hardly a single structure here that hadn’t been touched by the affects of war. Neither building nor man had been spared from the damage of war. Luckily it was a slow day today. He hadn’t even heard a single shot today. Even war seemed to need a break from time-to-time. But those days were the worst; the anticipation really could wear you down. Like a stream wearing away at the rock, eventually the river carried that rock away. More than one soldier had been carried away by the insanity of war.

Barry wasn’t even sure why he was here, why any of them were here. He knew he was here protecting good from evil, but who were they to judge good and evil? Was every enemy he faced evil? He doubted it. But, that didn’t matter. The skill of dealing out death had been drilled into him at boot camp and when he saw an enemy he pulled the trigger. But whom was he shooting at? He knew his bullets were aimed at fathers, brothers and sons, just like his fellow soldiers. Barry knew that this was the nature of war. He wasn’t sure if that made it right though. Each day he spent here, he became less clear why he was here, his resolve a little more diluted. There wasn’t an end in sight, the chance of a real winner unlikely.

Barry was thankful he had never had to kill anyone. He wasn’t sure how anyone could deal with the thoughts of their bullets snatching away another man’s life. To take another man’s life was so final. It made him judge and jury and his bullets the executioner. Perhaps, this shouldn’t be his job. God seemed more suited to this role.

Barry hadn’t been a believer long. He had started to read the bible and he knew that one of the Ten Commandments was thou shall not kill, a direct contrast to his job. This was moral agony for him. He was like a homeless man attempting to find food, but when he finds it, he throws it out because the people around him are telling him it isn’t proper to eat. But he was a well-trained soldier and he knew that in the heat of the moment he would do his job. This scared him.

A shadow fell across Barry. It jerked him away from his thoughts. He cursed himself for his lack of concentration. He quickly surveyed the area. A flash of smoke caught his eye. Barry knew his distraction had cost him. He hadn’t even felt the bullet rip through his bulletproof vest and bite into his chest. It hit him before he even heard the shot.

His friends grabbed him and pulled him into some cover. They were all trained to react to the situation. One was yelling commands, and the others followed orders. Barry couldn’t make out faces, for things were beginning to blur. Everything was muffled. His hearing seemed to be failing. Barry placed his hand on his chest and pulled it away. Dark rich blood mixed with sand covered his hand. The sun seemed to be fading away and he was beginning to grow cold. He thrashed around in the desert sand. Then his body became numb. The only sense that hadn’t failed him yet was smell, the smell of burnt gunpowder. Then blackness, and he was growing so cold.

Suddenly, light began to emerge from the darkness, followed by beautiful warmth. It wasn’t the dry, unforgiving heat of the desert. Instead a radiant, glowing heat that embraced him. He heard singing, singing more beautiful than anything he had ever heard before. Then he saw a face. He smiled.

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