Aurora: A Soldier's Brief Diary

Day One

Yeah, I guess I deserve this. I came over here to fight. I was trained with the best. And pledged to give my all—which looking back, I guess I did. No use giving you the facts, the details. Sort of irrelevant now, the cause and effects of where I am here. Dying. For everywhere has become a world where facts matter little. Even back in my Midwestern town of Beacon, details and the truth fly around, trying to land somewhere solid. Like gulls in a storm. I never knew you could see gulls so far inland over a desert. But the damn things are here. I remember them best out on the coast each summer. Where I used to sail with my dad and brothers. Just a fading memory now.

You just need to know I came East. Really East. As East as any nineteen-year-old, fresh off the high school football team ever thought was East. You Put four years in with us and we'll match it in a college somewhere. Free to your parents, boy! Well, that was the plan anyway. But like they say, "If you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans." Never really saw the humor in that saying. Until now.

Semper Fidelis was the creed I took up. And took it up strong. Never one to let down my team, I gave it my all. Learned the ways of a soldier—the second oldest profession. And even though I was on the fast track, up for promotion, I think I would have always been better following orders than dishing them out. Hated my Dad for putting that in me, but loved him for it too.

So here I am, guys. About 5 km out from where we got hit pretty hard. Yeah, an ambush. Most the guys on the mission with me made it back. At least I'm assuming. Or got picked up by the Medivac birds. Then all hell broke out again. A guy named Tom—black kid from Tulsa, took off with me into the badlands. Just to get away from the heavy fire. We both were hit and crawled mostly. Ran when we could, but they must have jammed our communications units. Our voices out here were just dead in the water. Dead in the sand to be more accurate. Well, my good man Tom got hit worse than me. He never made it this last km which I have—laying here now only able to wait and write. All of this on my handheld. For whoever finds it I guess.

Yeah, so for those who will want to know, Tom went out brave. Never told me the bad news—how the shells he took compromised his body armor. The guy told me his sister was named Moira. Just like his mom. Thought that was kinda strange. And kinda beautiful too. Did my best to save him, though. Then my best to bury him. But now I'm just holed up here myself between some dunes while it's getting dark. Hoping the night vision specs on board the gunships will find me from the air tonight.

Lost a bunch of blood myself out here but got the tourniquets working pretty well. Just feeling kinda faint now. Can't move my legs much and I'm thirsty as hell. When the shells hit my thighs, they took out my canteen too—what a bitch!

I can hear choppers back there somewhere scouring the dunes. Where we started. Guess they just never figured Tom and me were Marathon guys. He must have been some kind of athlete in school. Even wounded could run like a deer. Guess we covered more ground than they ever imagined.

Can still hear gunfire now at sunset. Way off toward the town. Lots of guys I know are engaging the enemy there. Fighting house by house. Funny, I never thought I'd rather be there. Busting basements with those sorry guys than taking this long walk in the park. And did I mention this park hasn't got one goddamn tree? Or a baseball field anywhere? To be kissing some cutie under the bleachers?

Well, I'm signing off now for a while, gang. It's darker and I need some sleep. Hopefully, I'll be conscious when the sun comes back up to torture me. Though I can't feel my feet much anymore. Good night Becky, Scout—loving sister and her baby girl. Both smiling Stateside. And same to you, Mom. Just quit your damn worrying, OK? It really doesn't help much out here.

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