My family,brothers and sons were gathered,in the gray room where only a week ago we sat excited, humane and alive.Yet that seemed forever ago.A lifetime ago, we were relatively rambunctious yet so much has happened since then.The only ones here,the unharmed ones or like me them being too tough to get medical service.The bulletproof wall set up to keep me safe from men desperate to avenge one of their fallen,reminding me of my own age, the scar around my eye socket, the pale grey hair,steel blue eyes.My grey stubble of a beard a reminder of how long I've been a soldier, the length of this mission.
Tiger's rabid look,hyperactive gaunt and bright red hair seemingly dulled from the battle,Spaz seemed to be less energetic, yet before this we were civilized.I should have did my best to spare Acid,yet I failed as a leader.
My voice droning on and on about the details "Our three helicopters... went in and the hostiles initiated fire first... downing one of our aircraft...thankfully our intelligence dictated that as soon as we noticed the facilities, our paratroopers fell...They all...landed fine...however the high ...concentration of hostile...forces ravaged the ranks...Five of their...warehouses...razed to the...ground..."
War takes lives, destroying anything in its way,I failed in my duties as a leader,a father figure,a positive role model.I had my resignation and or suicide letter written yet I decided."Everyone may go to their houses, consume their poisons.Whatever that may consist of.Your all dismissed,courtesy of me."
Nitro walked past me telling me"You dun look too well, your old as this building if not older man,you should retire.Do it for yourself, you owe it."His youthful body swaying whenever he walked,the tanned physique,pristine health made me envy him.I gave him a honest piece of advice "Settle down, get a wife,start a family,leave us withered old souls here for your job. We have nothing, nobody to care for, no career, no house just chaos.Thank you kid,"
Walking towards my desk,I feel the cumalative wounds from decades ago.I take out my letters,position them so they would be read after the deed's done.I reach beneath the desk, removing my two liter bottle,filling it with my homemade alcoholic concoction.Rum,whiskey,ale,lager,and moonshine.
I add the finishing touches to my post mission reports.Which took over a dozen total sittings.Tired from the work,the life I've lived over my years,reading my letters,dark truths and begin to cry.The time has treated both I and the letters terribly.
The pages, yellowed to a light amber color.The ink faded,mentioning people who have been dead for all too long, all too young.A red head who despite looking human was a sociopath,his hair like a mane of fire dead for a decade.It isn't the physical scars that hurt much rather, its the physciological traumas of knowing a kid who died.
YOU ARE READING
A series of Scars
AçãoThree division leaders, in an undisclosed Special Forces organization state individual missions, of their divisions.A dramatic novel with a lot of suspense,action,horror.
