A Common Soldier

• Shakiera Williams, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2017

My memory became a blur, somehow making war easier to bare. I found myself, again, relying on my five senses. It was the only strategy that proved useful for my survival. The silence which fell over the swamp was deafening. It made me anxious. There wasn’t the usual howling sounds of gunfire. It was quieter then falling snow. The branches of swamp trees danced in the wind above the tree tops. Casting shadows on the albeit of the stagnant surface. Reminding me of shadow puppets back home in Japan.
Resting my riffle down I leant against a tree trunk of a tree as old as time. I flicked my head towards the echo of a subtle swish. The murky water rippled. Adrenalin suddenly rushed through my veins.
I remember my dearest mother and the nature of her embrace before I departed home. Imitating it I pulled my rifle close. I suppose I’ve been away too long to call Japan home. I feel as though I don’t even know my name anymore. Private is my new identity. A part of war, I’m not a person, not anymore just a common soldier. A common piece of war.
Cautiously raising I flashed my eyes around the tree. I trudged into the knee-deep water. Moving as if in stealth mode of a videogame. But this wasn’t a videogame. It was real, a real war.
Crawling vigilantly, I headed towards the noise. My chest constricted when I virtually pulled the trigger restraining myself as I laid my eyes on an adolescent alligator with stubby legs wary of its surroundings. Relieved I let my guard down and exhaled, but all too soon.
An agonising pain stabbed and burnt my shoulder before the momentary noise of cracking thunder had its chance to reach my ears. Breaking silence, the gunshot cracked the air resonating over kilometres of bog, reaching far across the warzone. The sound was left ringing in my ears. Clutching at my shoulder; the excruciating wound I struggled to sit up stretching for my gun with all the might I had left, I failed. Instead managing to lock eyes with a fearful young soldier crouching amongst the reeds. Looking at him was like staring at myself and seeing my own terrified soul.
Darkness took over my mind filling it with murky thick mist. In this moment, I forgave the troop for his actions because I know they weren’t truly his, but the actions of pure evil of war, which forced conflict on humanity.
They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die. Mine didn’t, the war took everything, my family, home, identity and even memories. Whatever memories I had of life before war slipped through my fingers when I first picked up a gun, they had become a blur. A blur that somehow made war easier to bare.