He was dying, fading away and not even fighting it. Looking at me
in disbelief and tears rolling of his cheeks he said “You pulled me in
front and they shot me”
03 months earlier:
1
The humidity was like a film of glue between skin and khaki and any
attempt to clean up only made it worse in the West African jungles. The
clean odour of skin invited mosquitoes and parasites to suck on your
blood.
Our losses were grave with our section reduced with another three
men. Two got missing and one was dragged away by a tiger. The real
enemy still remained elusive and discreetly picked off our men with
expert sniper shot in no man’s land.
A two week assignment became a three months struggle to extract an
important family that got stuck in the kill zone where republican and
rebel troops were butchering each other. The price in body bags was not
really worth it anymore but we were obligated by a contract of service
We returned back to base for replenishments and fresh
reinforcements were awaiting us. It was kids standing with MP3 players
and IPods, acting cool while staring at us as we passed them by.
Slipknot was screaming in their ears and their shiny eyes were looking
for experience and bloody adventures.
One kid was assigned to my group that covered reconnaissance. On the
morning just prior to heading out the boy furiously scrubbed his face
with Clearasil and combed and gelled his spiky hair.
He was a real handsome guy and it was funny to find him here and not
between adolescent girls on prom night or the football field scoring
points for his team.
2 – Fatality
Fucking Marine! ...I am a fucking Marine he was chanting and I told
him to shut his trap as we entered the contact area. The Kiddo started
turning pale as he smelled burning flesh of livestock and humans, he
was sweating profusely as he saw dismembered men and disfigured human
limbs strewn around after a mortar attack on the village during the
night.
Death was no X-box simulation game and the fun ravaging lyrics of
his sadist artists were vicious. The real scenes sickened and crazed
him in the long grass. He lost it screaming and urinating in his pants.
Blowing our cover, I knew that contact with the enemy were now
inevitable, I smacked him and said
“restrain yourself or die today child “
The enemy came in floods and what a macabre scene, they were dressed
in woman’s clothing and their faces were concealed in primitive death
masks. The Machine gunner cleaned five belts of ammunition and maybe
killed a score of an hundred cannibal soldiers but the adversary total
were only increasing. I prepared myself for death and instructed
bayonets to be fixed for a fight to the death.
They Shot cousin brother John through the skull, Staff sergeant
Willis through the mouth and slowly our totals reduced in bloody waste.
The boy was still screaming without end and we were starting to lose
the left flank when I pulled the boy in front of me to take a hail of
bullets intended for me.
I was sole survivor concealing myself under his dead body. It was a
close call when one of the rebels heard something close to us and
picked up the kids IPOD that were still playing that raging music I
heard at base.
The rebels in their satanic appearance danced to Slipknot, firing
their AK 47 guns and celebrating their victory. They were in sync with
this devil music and the dead American kid lying in his blood seemed
peculiar to it.
“Does your mother know you are here” I said to the kid as I was preparing his body to be moved
3 – Mercenary conscience
Feeling a vague undefined guilt I buried my old veteran comrades and
decided to only take the youngish body with me during the night.
Putting him on the mortuary’s stainless plate I noticed for the
first time that a pimple was pushing through his tender skin and that
the Clearasil was not so great in the tropics.
Memorial Day
father leaves home early
not returning
mother fears the worst
father talking the previous evening of death
stroking the border scars on his body
crying “why did we die in the war!”
mother sends me to the military graveyard
walking the numerous rows of white crosses
revealing the loss of 17 years old boys
finding him asleep on an adolescent grave
I wake him, tell him to come home.
Commentary:
I was a mercenary soldier out of choice. A psychological theatre of
war was already occurring inside me since the day of my birth and the
horror of an unhappy childhood. I was not merely shooting down real man
during engagements but also my demons. Protect your children’s
consciousness at home and never send them to fight wars. The shattering
and scaring of their consciousness is permanent.
The survivors
The dead fortunate in their forgetfulness!
the living cursed with the blemish of memory!
their souls trapped in barbwire dream catchers
forever reading damned oracles of fear
Trying to dismantle
they tear and cut themselves
in endless strands of despair
No comments:
Post a Comment