Soldiers Suffering

By: Aither

Mud sucked at the bottom of his bloody boots as he ran across the field where his comrades laid. Right now, nothing else mattered, his only goal was to kill the enemy before he was killed. As long as he did that, his family back home would be safe. And his country would continue to be both the great and terrible place that it was.

A bomb landed a few yards next to him; a shower of shrapnel and rocks, followed by a wall of fire, threw him farther away from his destination and into the mud. Most of his shirt was burnt off, revealing a body covered in sweat, his own blood and the shrapnel that was now sticking out all over his body. The sight of his own body caused him to vomit whatever liquids he had in his body, there was only blood.

But the battle did not wait for the soldier to finish; the battle continued on, bullets and shrapnel flew across the sky, while bodies fell to the ground. The battleground looked like autumn, but instead of colored leaves, it was blood red bodies covering the ground.

The soldier tried to stand up, but he fell back down, his leg was to weak to support his weight. He looked up to see is anyone would come and help him, but everyone had left him behind to fend for himself. A helmet lay on the ground next to him; inside it was a picture of a family, parents and their two boys. An image flashed through his mind of his own family. He couldn’t give up now; he was here so that they could live.

He pushed himself into his knee, and unsteadily stood up, he tried to run, but with each step, pain poured down his leg like hot liquid metal. He started to slowly limp towards his comrade, quickly gaining speed as he went. He imagined his wife and his baby girl standing with the rest of his comrades, calling to him, telling him to hurry and get to them.

One of the soldiers turned around, he screamed something at his comrades, and they turned around too. There was four of them yelling for him, trying to make their voices louder than the bombs and constant gunfire. But even four inaudible voices was enough to keep him going.

A bullet pierced his shoulder, he screamed and fell to the ground. The enemy had seen him, and was now aiming at him. Another bullet grazed his ear, he didn’t scream this time, he knew it would only waste what little energy he had. His comrades continued to cheer him on, a few other soldiers had also noticed him and were cheering for him.

“Come on! Just a little further!” one of them yelled, the soldier was close enough to hear their voices now. By now there was at least thirty of his comrades cheering for him. Tears were falling down the soldiers face, whether from the physical pain, the knowledge that he was probably not going to see his family again or from the support of his comrades, neither he, nor his comrades could tell.

Three of the comrades jumped up from their hiding places, and raced towards the soldier. Guns were re-aimed, and fired at the comrades who had jumped up to save their own. One was struck in the leg, and fell to the ground. He yelled for the others to go on, and crawled back to the rest of his allies.

The two other comrades finally reached the soldier, picked up his arms, and put them over their shoulders. They didn’t stop moving. To stop was to die. They ran back to the rest of the comrades who were still cheering for him, and now the two helping soldiers.

A bomb went off not far from where they were and knocked the three soldiers to the ground, but they quickly got back up, and continued to run. There was shrapnel imbedded into the side of the comrade closest to the explosion, and there was a trail of blood behind him, but they continued to run.

The soldiers had finally reached their comrades, and they kept cheering him on. He was dying and they all knew it, he had lost too much blood. He had third degree burns covering the side of his body, and shrapnel was embedded into most his face and side.

“Th...” He tried to thank them, but he started to cough instead.

“Shhhh, don’t say anything, don’t waste your srength.” One of the soldiers said, and grabbed the soldier’s good shoulder, and gave it a comforting squeeze. A tear fell down his cheek

“Tha…ou.” The soldier tried again. All of the soldiers nearby had tears in their eyes. They had seen comrade after comrade fall, but never had they looked into the face of a dying comrade as he thanked them.

“Thank you.” He got it right this time; and he was ready. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his head rolled to the side.

“May angels lead you in.” A soldier said through his tears. And the battle waged on.

AN: Just a little short for you guys (a way too short). Just to say support our soldiers, they’re supporting you. When they became soldiers, they knew what they were getting into. They had the chance to stay, but they went so that they could protect us and the citizens of the countries they serve in. Sometimes all a soldier wants is a little support from whom they’re trying to protect. So when you get up on Christmas morning, don’t forget to remember Christ, but also remember our saviors on the other side of the world, who are also dying for us. And to all the non-Christians...To the Jews…Happy Hanukkah…and to who ever celebrates Kwanzaa, Have a good one. Just because you’re not Christian, doesn’t mean you can’t thank and celebrate those who have died for us. Oh yea, by the way “May angels lead you in” is a line in a song by Jimmy Eat World called “Hear you me.” I don’t take credit for that line or the song.