The air is cold and it bites my face with it's razor sharp teeth. I've been sitting in this big, metal container for sixteen hours, waiting for my leader to let my fellow troops and I, out. About a year ago in 2012, Russia invaded the United States and began to take citizens as prisoners. For what purpose? We don't know for sure. The United Stated have been at war with Russia since then. They've threatened to send nuclear bombs our way, so we've become cautious and careful with our tactical choices.
"How much longer?" Private Jones asks me.
I take in some air and look at my watch with it's time illuminated by neon blue LED lights. It says it's three in the morning. Our leader won't be here for at least another hour.
"Soon," I say sharply.
The cold has caused my ass to sting and I can barely feel my face. My troops are just as impatient as I am as we sit, freezing in wait for our big plan to be revealed. We don't know where we are, but we know we are in Russian. The exact location has been hidden from us and is to remain unknown. That's why we are in this container.
Half an hour passes and we hear bombs explode. The walls of the container rumble and let off a slight echo. Is this supposed to be happening? Is this how I will die? No. I have come too far to end in this state of mind. I fight for the freedom of my people. I will not die unless it's a death in honor of my country. I will not bow down to the enemy.
Another half hour passes and I check my watch once more. "Should be any second now, men." I say this to no one, really. Everyone listened, though, as if it were a personal message from their loved ones. Loved ones that they may never see again.
I look around the container at some of the faces of the men I've been sitting with. Private Jones, Private Aadams, Private Velez, Private Connor, Private O'Neil, Private Hughes. They all have the same expression. Hard as a rock but fragile like a baby. They know they could die at any moment and yet, they remain strong. It's admirable, really. You can tell they are all confused, afraid, worried, worn out and tired. But they won't admit that. No. They ignore it for the cause of a greater good. If I die today, I'm glad it's in the presence of these men.
Private Aadams taps me on the shoulder. He's an interesting fellow. Of all the men I've met, he's one of my favorites. He's got a crooked mouth that curves up to the left which makes it seem likes he's smirking all the time. He walks with a kick in his step and is one of the biggest skitzo's I've seen in my life. Having a conversation with him is like having a conversation with a two year old hyped up on sugar, unless he's scared, of course. The kid shys away from conversations that include sex, women or his home life. He's smart, loves math and hates lady bugs. He's the kind of kid I would have beaten up in highschool, but he's become a good friend of mine, though I've never told him that.
His mouth twitches where it curves. He swallows hard and asks very seriously, "Are you afraid of dying?"
I exhale and ask him to reiterate. I'm stalling. My anxiety has consumed me to the point where I don't want to speak to anyone. Not even a friend.
Private Aadams asks me again, "Are you afriad of death, Carter?"
I answer this time, taking on a sophisticated tone that this war has installed in me, "No. I'm only afraid of losing. Should I die, it won't matter. Death is no more than a schoolyard bully with feirce eyes and destructive methods of attack."
"Do you think we will make it?"
"We must try, Aadams," I tell him.
One more hour passes and still no one comes. Bombs have quieted down and gone away. The air drops and silence, it seems, is more creative than death at this hour. How much longer can I endure of this? I'm a soldier but I feel as if I'm still in my preschool days. I think of how my mother had always told me to be patient for things to go my way. She is gone now. Russia captured her and silenced her with it's mighty hand clamped over her heart. I tremble at the thought of what they've done to her.
BANG! CLICK! SCREEEEECK! Click... Click... Click...
White emerges through a slim crack in the door of the container. The doors screech as it opens wider, swallowing the darkness that surrounds me and the other troops. Our leader emerges then, as a shadow in the brightness. He resembles an angel of war.
His name?
Sergeant Holmes.
"We've waited a long time for this," he begins. "You men are now the heroes of this generation. Russia has lost sight of what is right and of what is wrong. We've witnessed the effects of this with Germany long ago. Now, Russia is far from them, as far as we know. But not too far. And they are equally as dangerous.
"Our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, neighbors, friends, lovers and children, are being torn from our fingers. Will we stand for this? Men! I ask you..." Sergeant Holmes gets in my face. "WILL WE STAND FOR THIS?"
In unison, "No!"
"Will we tolerate the wrongs being done? Cower in fear in the corner like a bunch of babies?"
Again, "No!
"Will we fight for them?"
"YES!"
Sergeant Holmes paces back and forth, eyeing us. "Again, will we fight for them?"
"Yes, sir!"
A smirk crosses his war-aged face. "I cannot hear you. I cannot hear my soldiers!"
"YES, SIR!" Our words ring through the trees that surround us. A cloud of our breath, frozen like us, rises up towards the heavens.
"We will fight for our country and make them proud! Let our banner wave! Are we prepared to fight today? Carter? Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir! I'm ready to fight, sir!" I say proud.
We march off after Sergeant Holmes where we make camp and wait for more orders. Today is the day we've been waiting for. Today is our chance to do what we do best. Today we will make history.
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Thank you so much for reading my very short story. I wrote this for an english class I took this year. Let me know what you think of it! I hope you liked it!
