Short Stories For All

No Pain, No Gain

A glass of whisky on the rocks, please," I ordered, sitting down on the stool as I observed the young bartender curtly nodding in acknowledgement. He poured the amber liquid into a lowball glass with two ice cubes in it. Muttering my thanks, I gingerly held the glass, before taking a sip. The spirit had an oaky taste as I let the beverage wash down my throat, warming me up. I sighed, looking around the pub, renowned for its jazz. The corners of my lips quirked up slightly, as I remembered my carefree days in here. Just sitting around with my friends at the mahogany tables, swaying to the sound of jazz, after our employment. Little did we know, a world full of hell, pain and suffering awaited us the next day.

I was not like the other young souls, eager and willing to fight in the war, saying that they were willing to sacrifice for their country, but in reality, their naïve minds would often wander off to how exciting and awesome it would be to hold a M6 Carbine rifle. I knew the risks of joining the army and I know just how much one needs to sacrifice just for the sake of their country. I know because I was forced to sacrifice two people that I loved and trusted the most for my country when I was only fifteen. I knew deep within my gut, that this would happen, but I would have never expect to see both my parents' coffins being lowered six feet underground so soon. After that, I had absolutely no one. My relatives expressed their sympathy, before they left me. Who would have wanted the only runt of the family? Their lives and time were far too precious to be wasted on babysitting the black sheep. Therefore, none of them bothered to reach out. I was alone, with no support and absolutely nowhere to go. So I did what my parents did, I joined the army immediately after high school. Why? Well, perhaps it was because I was tired of feeling lonely, and only receiving sympathy, which was as fickle as the wind. As I placed the glass down on the table with a soft thud, I closed my eyes and massaged my forehead as I reminisced back to my trainee days.

Training, God, training was no easy task. It was so arduous that some of us pulled out within the first few weeks, those who stayed, well, we became each other's support, helping each other out from combat training to memorising hand signals. We became a family, and I never regretted my decision. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I felt more at home in the congested barracks than my old house. To describe the bond between two soldiers would be trying to describe the happiness of a mother as she set her eyes upon her child for the first time: indescribable. That was how strong our bond was. We did almost everything together. Seeing everyone from diverse backgrounds, each with their own story to tell, working together as one, was beautiful. At that moment, the fact that we had different skin colour, accents and beliefs did not matter because we knew we were a family. A little odd but complete. We trusted each other with our lives, knowing that if we were ever in trouble, we know somebody has got our backs. Those days were some of the best times of my life and belong to a special place in my heart despite everything that happened. Well, that was until we were deployed in enemies' land.

"WATCH OUT!" my injured comrade screamed as I immediately stopped myself from finding the morphine to grab my knife. I twisted my body, slashing the chest of my enemy, killing him instantly. I turned around finally, grabbing the pain-killer only to see my friend's lifeless eyes and still body. I lowered my head and collected his dog tag, to be given to his family. Closing my eyes, I knelt down as I bowed my head, giving him a moment of silence in this whole catastrophic mess. He promised he would return home safely to his pregnant wife for his daughter's piano recital. Taking in a shaky breath, I grabbed my M16 and peeked from my hiding spot to see what could only be described as hell. Bombs erupted from left to right, causing shrapnel to fly everywhere wounding those near the explosion, indiscriminate to its countrymen or enemy. The sound of bullets firing, gunshots and the heavy artillery merged and blend forming a disturbing orchestra that threaten to deafen anyone within a five kilometre radius. The scent of blood and smoke filled the air along with the chemicals of the smoke bombs. The men that dropped to the ground, who were never going to get back up to see their anxious loved ones back at home, were threatened to be trampled by other soldiers. I stared at the scene before looking up, trying to find a sliver of blue but to my dismay, the white claw-like fumes entered my field of vision diminishing my hope of seeing the colour that reminded me of home.

"SHUT IT, YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS!" my inner self shrieked at me, as I sprinted into the enemy's base, without hesitation, knowing that my comrades had my back as they fired away, ensuring my safe journey there. Once I was sure I was deep enough, I skidded to a stop with the handheld device, pulled the pin out with my teeth and threw it a good distance away from me. Without skipping a beat, I tore down the same path that led me into the belly of the beast, to taste sweet victory until a series of thoughts resonated loudly and repeatedly like a mantra.

"My family. My family who lost many brothers and sisters today. I need to be there. I need to be there with them. I don't want to die yet. They need me there. I want to be there,"

Those thoughts fuelled me with hope and strength to move forward, to survive this wretched hell hole, live another day, to see my home again together with my friends. Each step increased with momentum, propelling me towards the exit until I could barely feel my feet touching the ground. We are finally going home. I felt the beginnings of a smile forming on my lips until I saw him.

"They are cruel vicious beasts, who destroyed our cities and will not hesitate to go for the kill. They are nothing but sadistic savages, fuelled by bloodlust," was how my commander described our enemies. We were angered by what they did to our country, cursing them whenever we got the chance. Men was enslaved, women became their concubines, and children were sent to concentration camps or slaughtered. We did not question him, we just wanted to get this job done with and return home safely. At that moment, time stopped, as my eyes widened in shock seeing a boy dressed in the uniform of my enemy. His small frame and youthful face told me that he was no older than thirteen. His eyes did not hold the fury, anger or cruelty our leaders described but there was an untouched innocence to his eyes as he stared curiously at me before they darkened in fear hearing the screams of his brothers and sisters from within. I was thrown out the enemy's base by the impact of the grenade, escaping by the skin of my teeth. The last thing I saw before I succumbed to the darkness was the innocent face of the boy, which I knew would haunt me until my deathbed.

After downing my second glass of whiskey, I paid the bartender before stepping out of the little bar. I was greeted with the view of the setting sun, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and orange hue as a light blue enveloped the part of the sky that no longer received the ray of the sunlight. I strolled out, stuffing my both hands in the pockets of my jacket, immediately coming to a stop as a little girl, her laughter emitting through the quiet calmness of twilight. She ran towards a couple, where the male was kneeling down and had his arm wide opened, immediately embracing the little girl in a bear hug before lifting her up, the woman laughed seeing the antics of her loved ones as they walked away. I let a smile trace itself on my face before I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

I turned see a man dressed in a simple white button-up T-shirt and black jeans, a white coat carelessly hung on his left shoulder. His onyx black hair was gently tousled by the wind, messing it slightly, only adding to his appeal. His eyes were a breath-taking shade of blue as if someone had concentrated the hue of the sky onto his irises. However, those beautiful eyes expressed annoyance and frustration as he stalked his way towards my shorter figure. "I told you to quit your habit of drinking," he chided. Admitting that I only had two glasses of whiskey seemed to calm him down a little, as the frown on his was replaced with a gentle smile. Klaus was the only one who reached out to me when my emotional barrier crumbled after the war. He did something no one else did, he listened to my story and stopped me from drinking my regrets away. He was my anchor who kept me sane before my inner demons engulfed me.

As I stared at my beloved's affectionate gaze for me with his face illuminated by the warm orange glow of the sun, I finally understood the importance of protecting my country. I looked around at the serene neighbourhood, seeing the joy and happiness on the faces of the citizens of my country. It was to preserve their smiles, their happiness and to keep them safe from anything or anyone. I may have went through a world full of hell, but I had played a significant role in their lives whether they realised it or not, and I did whatever it took to ensure their safety was never jeopardized. I played a part in banning the involvement of children below the age of eighteen in military to repent for my sins during the war. I prayed for the lives that were lost for every war that I had fought, both ally and enemy.  As a soldier of my country, I went through enough suffering to last me an entire lifetime and I saw my country thrive, every single time we defended it. I made plenty of difficult decisions along the way, but I rather it be me risking my life for the sake of my country than anyone else. I endured the pain for the gain of my country, and I would not had have it any other way.