A Christmas Disaster

• Rebecca Pitman, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2011

A khaki hat, blown by the wind, whipped around and around in dizzying circles above the weak, wooden hut. Dust slammed against every panel and board, nailed against the windows. The door was barred against the wind. Cloth curtains covered the window panes, but did not block out the horrible howling of the raging gusts outside, or the gentle breathing of the sleeping soldier within.

Stephan’s dark blue eyes twinkled with salty tears as he clutched the buzzing phone to his ear. His mother wiped her face and took the phone from his trembling hand, fresh tears dripped down her usually rosy cheeks.
“John, are you there?” she gasped as the frantic crackling formed a far-away voice.
“Marie! If you can hear me, zzzzzt, tell Stephan, zzzzzzt zzzzzzzt, Merry Christmas!”
And his voice faded away into static.
“He’s not coming home,” said Marie quietly, as she ran to her now sleeping son and embraced him in a hug that would last forever “, he’s not coming home for Christmas.”

John rushed outside after pulling open the dirty curtains, the noise had ceased, the dust had settled, and soldiers were emerging from the huts scattered around the valley. Few were lost out scavenging in the plains, and some were whipped up into the mountain range and onto the rocks, but most were sleeping while the storm raged outside. John breathed in the dusty air and sighed, he missed the warm, tingly feeling of Christmas night; of roast chicken and potatoes, with vegetables and gravy on the side. As well as the pudding and custard afterwards, and then the piles of presents bundled under each and every Christmas tree. John turned to look beyond the horizon, they are there, he thought, they have to be.

A shout to warn the troops, a yell of the enemy, the Afghan terrorists were coming. Guns at the ready, men hid behind huts and in trees, leaves falling to the ground as the soldiers climbed. Sarah, the cook, screamed and ran, with her young daughter on her back, towards the forest. Captain Trudy called to her but she kept sprinting towards the lush, green trees. A small, silver sphere sailed through the air towards the camp, soldiers ducked, women screamed, then suddenly, all went black.

John opened his eyes and blinked, he cried out in pain as he tried to move his legs. As he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, he winced, and a nurse hurried over to check on him.
“We couldn’t move the metal off your legs until last night; the doctors took care of your back, but your spine’s damaged too badly. I’m sorry!” she said quickly. John’s face turned pale as a horrible thought came to his head.
“You’re paralysed from the waist down.” whispered the nurse quietly, as if reading his mind.
“Yes,” said John “, I thought so.”