Never Let Me Go

Chapter 3 - Warzone

Afghanistan was as scary as we thought it was going to be, hot too. The buildings were wreckages in heaps. Walls standing in the middle of wasteland. Guns and engines were sounded 24/7. Enough to make everyone jumping when savouring those few hours of sleep. So far I had taken three dead bodies off of the battlefield and had to fill forms in order for them to be shipped back to the UK for their families. I had stitched thirteen wounds and carried John Collins to the emergency tent for an amputation after stepping on an enemy landmine. The blood wouldn’t stop pouring and I had nearly lost my voice in shouting for the emergency surgeon. I had never been so scared in my life, but I never told Lu that. I told him I was fine, that I hadn’t been shot in the arm and nearly killed by a fly away shot. I said I loved the action, the danger. In truth, I was scared. Girls had started going missing from the tents during the night, rumours of kidnapping. A wounded and delusional man ran past me this morning screaming I was next. But that was probably to do with the war.

How could he know what was to happen to me out here?

Screams filled my ears and machine guns fired before my eyes, death was everywhere. Everyone killed for the land that was destroyed. Vigilantes and terrorist groups threatened the camps every day, thus resulting in more deaths and more injuries. It had been three weeks before I realised I had missed my mums birthday. I sent a letter with a photograph of myself in uniform with the group when we first arrived, when people were happy. She wrote back to me within two weeks saying how smart I looked, how proud everyone was of me and she was glad I was safe. For the time being anyway. She sent the families love, telling me to hurry home so she could give me a big hug and a kiss.

I have now sent and received fifteen letters from Lucifer; he had rescued a fellow soldier from being brutally killed in North Korea. I worried for him every day, never telling him of the loneliness I felt in my heart. He spoke of the moon in every letter, how it reminded him of our night on the roof. I smiled every time, looking into the sky to see a blazing sun which would blind me for a few seconds. I missed him more than anyone else. It carried on like that for months, a never ending war, followed by letters from loved ones and then back to the war. That one moment, in which we all shared, crying because of the choices we made or the pain in missing our friends and family.

One night when the moon was high I felt restless inside my tent; I decided to go for a walk. It was cold and I could see my breath clouding in front of my eyes. I smiled, looking into the sky. The night was silent, one of the first times in this country I had experienced true piece in the raging war. In truth it was stupid of me to wander alone in the dark. I thought I was smarter than that. One minute I was looking up at the sky and the next, I was being smothered, dragged and thrown into the back of a van.