A Broken Picture

A Broken Picture
By Samuel Gaudreau
With dawn came the call back to reality, and thee many masses of my comrades answered it with strong reluctance. I myself had lost myself in the turns and twirls of my sub-conscious, but I didn’t linger too long inside myself: even the real world was kinder to me than the land of dreams. With a tensing of my neck the desolate scenery revealed itself to my eyes. We had finally arrived at the coast. Soft light slowly seeped over the boats visible, exploring every dent and every crack. There was a perfect, unnatural silence. And not the glint of a tooth to be seen.

I lifted myself in a more comfortable position wearily. Instantly blood returned to my legs and with it the dozen or so cramps on my body explained how bad a decision that had been. Without passion I tried a few stretches, meanwhile looking for the box I had saved for my few possessions.

I found it in a corner, safe, secret, secure. The old tin box had survived with me since we had departed and it was all I had. It opened with a groan; perhaps it too wasn’t pleased to be woken up. Inside was a slight pile of letters waiting to be posted and an old photograph. With trembling hands I carefully took the latter and held it in the morning light. I had ironed the photo in my mind, but my memory was famous for its forgetfulness; or rather had been, back home.

I clutched the old black-and-white tight to my heart, once again memorizing the kind eyes, the glinting square teeth, the slender smooth curves of the face.
“Annabel, I will come back. I promise.”
I imagined the reply, replaced the box carefully, and stood tall with a renewed determination.
With a grinding halt the boat sliced through the gentle sand. The plan had been simple; all troops had had to memorise it. But in the depths of the sudden, in the moment waited upon for months, I struggled to grasp my rifle correctly. We were first to capture the beach. Strategy would then vary on troop numbers and rations.

Sounds simple.

The terrifying cry of a bullet whizzing through the air pounded countless eardrums. Compared to the utter silence beforehand the noise made me jerk involuntarily and drop the gun I had been holding loosely. We had been discovered!

Gunshots now raged everywhere as I crouched more or less instinctively. Even in the middle of battle my thoughts drifted once again to Annabel, waiting patiently home.
“Annabel, I will come back. I promise.”
With a solemn cry I jumped down from the boat, head held high, shoulders raised in defiance. I tasted sweat, heard nothing, saw nothing but sand everywhere, smelted salt, felt the same rugged uniform over my skin.

I had taken only a few steps when all of my senses told me I had stepped on a landmine.

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