A Soldier's Burden

Soldier's story

"Tell me what you think, is there anything you would like to let me know?"

                I would like to let you know everything, and as the words attempted to pour from my mouth I fought them back, replying with a simple "No."

                "Are you sure? My job is to help you Jacob, I can't perform my job as well as I could without a little bit of help from you." The doctor, excuse me, the psychiatrist, says with a warm smile. She told me earlier she didn't like to be referred to as a "doctor". She said it implied that there was something wrong with the people she helped, when there wasn't. I'm not sure if I believe that. She has a comforting voice, like some heroine from a movie. Her dark hair went past her shoulders and waved as she moved her head. Her blue eyes shone with what appeared to be true interest in me, but I couldn't reply. Despite her supple features and her inviting presence I couldn't bring myself to tell her anything.

                "No ma'am, I have nothing to tell." A lie. The biggest lie I've ever told. I want to tell her about Terrance, face down in the mud. I want to tell her about how I knelt beside him and witnessed his final breath. How I held him as the crimson blood pooled around him, pouring from the wounds he had suffered. I want to tell her that in his last seconds he found the strength to tell his mom that he is coming to see her. How I couldn't even shed a tear for him, because I had a mission to complete. I retrieved his gun and ammunition as per orders and fought on. I want to tell her how that crippled me, but I have no ways of explaining, no words to describe the horror of that moment.

                "Jacob, we have fourteen more minutes, I know it's hard and I want to help ease that pain. But you have to let me in at least a little bit. It doesn't have to be a huge breakthrough today, is there anything at all you want to get out in the open?"

                She knows it's hard she says. She can't know. It's impossible for her to know, and it's impossible for me to explain. What the f**k am I supposed to do? Sit here in silence like an idiot and pretend everything is ok? Or should I tell her about November 21st? Should I tell her about how many friends I lost that day? The day my convoy was ripped to pieces by IEDs. The explosions shaking the vehicle like an earthquake had just hit, the sound of the ensuing gunfire and yelling, the cries of agony from the men, my friends, that were reduced to nothing by shrapnel. And I blocked it all out, because I had a mission to complete. I didn't tend to any wounded, I didn't kneel beside them and try to console them. No, I took cover behind the smoldering wreck of a humvee, it's bowels littered with human remains, and I shot back at our attackers. I did everything I could to focus on the enemy, I devoted my whole being to killing them. To end their lives like they had just ended the lives of my friends. Can I tell her that after the battle was over I didn't once think about the dead. I couldn't or I would have lost my mind amongst the horror and pain of it all. How can I tell her that I ended families. I shot and killed people who could have been brothers, sons, fathers. Without remorse and without second thought, I killed them like they were dogs. And as they died, so did my comrades. A myriad of people dead, some that I've known since Basic, some that I had just met. All were my brothers. All fought, just like me, and some died. Some lost everything. Some couldn't return to their moms and dads. Some couldn't ever hold their loved ones again, or tuck their sons or daughters in to bed. A life snuffed out, affecting the lives of countless others. There is no way for me to explain to Ms. Psychiatrist. There is no way for me to explain to anyone, except other soldiers. Except other kids, eighteen year olds, nineteen year olds, stuck with a gun and stuck with the images of war. The lost friends, the carnage, the destruction. The enemy planting bombs on children and killing two or three of our men. Bullets ripping through flesh and muscle and bone and leaving a body broken and lifeless. Nothing could have prepared me for what I lived through, and sometimes I wish I hadn't. Sometimes I wish I had died for country, just to escape these memories. To escape the burden of living to grow old and die as a basket case. Sometimes I wish I had died with my brothers. And as my eyes begin to well with tears I look away from her soft, blue gaze and reply with the only words I could find.

"No, ma'am."

Reviews

[JelliFyshKissUs]

Those last two words hit so hard. Voicing the tragedy is a gushing wound in itself. A compelling story, full of emotion you draw out of your reader. Unless you specifically tell me you're looking for critiques, I won't voice them. A truly emotional and engrossing story.

[Cafe Reader]

Remarkable writing! Very touching.

[Mark]

When I read works such as this, as well as those of other veterans on this Site, it leaves me with such a sense of desolation. I shall never know the pain of being ordered to kill strangers, of being strongly recommended not to show mercy or humanity to any degree or any kind, as the injured person might be booby-trapped, then being compelled to re-enter society and just pretend that it all never happened, just resume your place in Society. I honor you and your sacrifices the only way I can--with words--as I can never imagine the depths of your sorrow. You should investigate Cool Handless Luke, a fellow vet, with much to say on the topic. Oh, and by the way, your story rocks my socks!

[Wondering Mind]

war is an ugly w***e, isn't she?
Your write is perfect, in my humble opinion.

[Misty Blue Eyes]

this left me speechless... its such a heart breaking story... you just gave us a glimps into a soliders life and its a nasty life they have over there... thank you so much for sharing

[luciddreamer]

Oh my, I am speechless, my heart is racing, my mind in whirling......thank you for sharing this write
Peace
Robin