Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Next thing.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Flash
Behind the cover, Private William Smith could feel rounds flying over his head. The gunfire was overwhelming. Behind him laid the humvee on it's side, which minutes prior held William and his squad before a mine laying on the side exploded, and set it ablaze. The sergeant was still inside, and his friend was wounded, laying on the ground. He called out to William. It tore William apart for he was unable to help him, doing so would endanger himself. Alongside him was the only other soldier, whom at the moment was keeping the ever growing enemy at bay. WIlliam knew that to stay in the same spot for too long was suicide, but moving out of cover would mean instant death. On the ridge to his right he spotted an enemy sniper. Dropping, he yelled, "Hit the de-" but was cut off by the sound of the sniper's rifle. The other soldier was hit in the chest. William was alone, surrounded, and was left with no options. He rose from his spot, and began shooting his assault rifle at the enemy.
Overhead he heard something. The distinct noise of chopping air. Above him flew over an Apache attack helicopter. Curling around, machine gun fire erupted from beneath the cockpit of the helicopter, and several missiles shot from either side of it. A building near William exploded, chunks of concrete bursting outwards. Bullets peppered the ground, flinging sand up into the air. Before him, enemy after enemy was slain. After a few moments, the enemy was retreating, leaving William alone. The Apache followed in pursuit, leaving behind a massacre. A silence set in. Bullet holes covered nearly every surface around him. The ground in the area was occasionally charred black. Looking down, he realized that his friend had bled out during the fire fight. He fought back tears, and started to think of the situation. He was stuck in between his destination, the humvee was destroyed, his squad was dissolved, and he had no idea whether or not help would be on it's way. Reloading his rifle, he began backtracking to his post at the base many miles down the road.
Soon down the road, the humvee was out of sight. The sun was noticeably beginning to start it's distant, although it would be sometime before darkness would envelop him. The thought excited him. The heat was oppressive, especially with his military attire on. He knew that he would need to be back at the base before then though; local militants were partial to doing occasional sweeps at night. Going off the road would also be dangerous. The desert stretched for hundreds of miles. Continuing, he was glad for his conditioning. Without it, the heat would make him collapse eventually. He thought of another threat. The desert was home to many different types of wildlife. Scorpions, snakes, and predators would all be a threat to him. All of which came out at night. Staying on the road seemed a reasonable decision. Moving became almost mechanic, and this lead to thoughts taking root.
William thought of the family that was waiting for him. Before he joined the Army, his wife had given birth to his first born child. The baby girl looked exactly like her father. His eyes were hers, as was his smile. Every time she giggled, his heart melted. His wife and daughter were the loves of his life. Everything was going great until William lost his job. His wife worked at a local gas station, so money was extremely tight. Knowing that he wasn't providing for his family was hard on him. When William was given the proposition to join the Army, he met opposition from his wife. Late at night they argued about it. The yelling would wake the baby. Knowing they needed the money, he joined without his wife's blessing. He promised he would be back in six months, but that had been a year ago.
The Sun was at an angle now. It was a huge orb in the sky. As time went on, his movement started to slow down. His pack was so heavy. Reaching down, his heart dropped. His canteen was nowhere to be found. It must have fallen off when the humvee was hit. His mouth was so dry. He began to wonder how far he had traveled, surely he must be getting close. He thought he must be nearly half way there. Happy by his realization, his thoughts were shattered. There was a shot. William dropped. He began to crawl towards the side of the road, and in a shallow ditch he began to examine the horizon. The area around was flat, the shot had to of come from afar. Was the sniper back? He laid there. Perspiration started to drip off his brow, seeping down towards his eyes. There were no other shots. Poking his head up, he realized there was no one to be seen. He thought of an idea. He grabbed a book from his pack. Perhaps he could fool the sniper into giving away his position. Tossing the book up in the air, he awaited the sniper's shot. Gravity brought the book back down on William, hitting him in the face. He tried again to no avail. Trying his luck, he began to creep down the road again, but this time much more cautiously. No shots. Scraping the little bit of dignity he had left, he started down the road again at a normal pace. For the time remaining he would keep his senses on edge.
But as time continued to pass him, William's thoughts started to get the better of him. His senses began to numb, and William started to think of his upbringing. Born on a Sunday in the town of Hucksville, Georgia William Smith was the youngest of three children. Hucksville was primarily a town of the upper class, but William's lower class family lived on the rural outskirts of the town. Many of the families owned plantations, but the Smiths didn't. Instead, Williams father worked on one of them. Before moving his family to Hucksville, William's father had previously lived and worked at a small town in South Carolina. His father had worked all his life at getting his own plantation. At one point he had the funds, and work had begun on the plantation. But as it neared completion, a fire started. William suspected someone in town had done it, but an arrest was never made. Heartbroken, William's father and mother moved to Hucksville which was known for it's hospitality. While the hospitality was true, William couldn't help but to feel underprivileged. Everyone in town lived in leisure, while his family worked constantly just to stay afloat. William promised that he would give his child a different life.
The sun was nearly half way down. William was so thirsty. How could he have been so stupid as to not check his equipment before he began to move? Looking at the sun, it was in front of him. Even if he didn't make it back to base before it set, a beautiful sight it would make as it went down over the horizon. The heat rising from the road was beginning to become unbearable. His head began to throb. Stopping, he threw his helmet behind him and cupped his hands around his forehead. Taking a knee, his stomach began to cramp. Dehydration was taking a toll on him. William heard a shell case fall on the ground, and the sound of a metallic ping. The sniper had returned. Looking backwards he saw that his helmet had a large hole in it. The sniper was obviously playing with him. William began to sprint down the road. His boots scraped sand up behind him. With all his might, he began to feel that he had left the sniper far behind. Slowing his pace, he didn't know whether or not he regretted his running. His fatigue was crippling. He hadn't drunken anything in hours, which in this heat wasn't smart. His jog slowed to a walk. For then on, William knew he had to preserve his energy. The base was getting closer and closer. He thought. At that point, he had no idea how far he had traveled.
How could this of happened? The road had ended. It was miraculous. Perhaps along the road he had taken the wrong way. But he had not seen a single other path. Several feet from the ending of the road was a large rocky cliff. He stood at the end of it, looking down. The drop was intimidating. The edge where he stood was grassy. Beneath his feet the ground was soft. Looking up, the Sun began to set. A wave of relaxation hit him. Hit mouth was no longer dry. He heard,
"William." come from his side. Looking over he saw his wife with his daughter. They were reaching out their hands. Looking down, his daughter smiled up at him. William grabbed both of their hands.
William was alone, surrounded, and was left with no options. He rose from his spot, and began shooting his assault rifle at the enemy. The sniper on the ridge aimed his cross hairs over his helmet. With the shot, his shell fell on the ground.
Private William Smith was KIA on a Sunday. His family members were informed a week later.