Conscription

• Sybilla Chapman, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

My heart beats in time with the marching band as we say our final farewells. By the time my fellow soldiers and I have boarded our warship, my mood has dropped and all that can be heard is the sound of ferocious waves lapping against the bow.

My jumper is sodden with tears shed by my mother and father. All I have with me is a felt star and a pair of battered old boots; encrusted with mud and grime.

I step foot on the dry, cracked barren landscape only now fully understanding the true meaning of war.

I dream myself to sleep that night, trying to escape reality. As I awake, I am transported to a new planet. The dawn sky is illuminated with orange plumes of smoke. Specks of amber dust are sprinkled all over this unfamiliar tundra.

I feel like screaming until all the bombing, shelling and firing has ceased, but there would be no way anyone could break loose from this reckless horror of a place.

That day, Sergeant Whitton insisted that we head South to block off the untouched land. We made our way along a rushing river and jumped across a tall, timber fence that held us up for hours until a new camp was found.

I made notice that there was a man called Carlos. His job was to look after the horses which we relied upon to survive. “I just wanted to thank you Carlos for spending every second you can with the horses to help them stay ship-shape”. “My pleasure William. It’s the least I could do. After all, I am not the one risking my life to save my country” replied Carlos.

Throughout the coming weeks an irreplaceable bond had grown between Carlos and I. We had faced many hard days, loss of horses and friends, as well as many victories.

We had an eerie feeling that we were being watched. I heard the click of the gun being cocked before… bang! Carlos and I stared in disbelief. All we could think to do was run. We ran until darkness enveloped us. Carlos began to moan, then soon after collapsed. There was a reel of barbed wire that encased his shoe and started to catch at his paper-thin skin. His boots were turning deep red.
Then the sound of a gun fires, hitting him in the arm. I hoist his limp body over my shoulders and drag him to protection.

When I awake in the morning, Carlos has passed. I have lost a soulmate. I go that day, looking for any sign of life. I find a small flower bud in the middle of a bush. I carefully place it on Carlos’s body, praying as tears stream down my cheeks.

I stare into the sky, rub the felt star and say “I will be home soon mother, I promise.”