Warriors Hart

Whenever he would drink, he would sit in corner of the room, surrounded with young boy that looked at him and listened to his stories. I have tried to snap him out of it, but that was his way of dealing with the problem. Soon after the second cup, here he was going at it again, talking about patrols in dry desert, digging fortifications, scouting for rebel forces in high rock formations and having laughs with the guys from the company that got annihilated by some wicked force. He had that warriors hart to push him doing this sort of stuff.

– There they were standing on top of the hill, looking at us with their electronic eyes, estimating how to bring us down… – he spoke.

He used a lot of graphic words and always mentioned blood and piss that he was covered in, while fighting the enemy. I have heard of them all, every story he had in his mind, and then when he ran out of all of them, he started to fabric the new ones. He spoke how he saved the whole platoon with a grenade, destroyed an enemy bunker and captured fifty soldiers on his own.

– Could you believe the monsters did? They have send one of our own back to base, covered with metal and wires, like we wouldn’t scan him before fire. We fought intelligent machines, and that is the best they could do? – he shook his head and laughed.

After the tenth cup, his preaching was over. Boys would turn towards the girls and start laughing at the old fart, sleeping in the corner. Music didn’t bother him that much. Most of the time he didn’t hear anything.

– Could you believe this guy? How can he lie so much? Isn’t he ashamed when we figure out he is talking shit? – boys spoke pass me, consumed with laughter.

They didn’t knew what is like to see him in his bad dream, moonwalking and searching for cover, fearing that enemy is close. They didn’t knew him like I did. My father never could accept his ill fate. He could never understand that he was an ordinary soldier in a lost war. He always thought of himself as a hero, a legend, someone who fought the enemy while everybody was heading for the hills.

I waited for an hour and then I picked him up and took him home. His face was twitching and eyes rolled beneath the blinds, seeing horrors he relived every day. I guess every ordinary soldier has one of these dreams.

Ordinary

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4 thoughts on “Warriors Hart

  1. Pingback: Critique needed | Dronstad

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