The Soldier in Bed 13

This awful War. It is a monster that hungers for the flesh and limbs of the youth. It mames and disfigures, it robs the mind of peace and contentment, and the room is full of its victims. As she makes her way through the sobs and cries of misery, she focuses on a time of happiness, a time of innocence, a time when the ugly and cruel intentions that man harbors deep in their souls was unknown to her. "Nurse"!, they cry, and she looks at the faces contorted from fear, from the knowing that all is lost. She goes to them with the comfort they seek, a smile, a touch from her hand, all the while knowing it may be their last.
When she was young, she dreamed of becoming a Nurse. She longed to heal, to offer kind and loving care to those grateful for her dedication to their well being. This is not what she had in mind. Everywhere, there is the dead and the dying, and the air reeks with sweat and blood, so thick it sticks in the back of your throat and leaves a taste of disgust on your tongue. She has been working 14 hours a day for a week and a half. There was a major battle and the carnage is the worse she has ever seen.
On the second day of the battle, she happened upon a soldier in Bed 13. This soldier was dying. His wounds were such that death should have claimed him the moment he received them, but he refuses to go. He clings to life with a strength born from a desperation of just simply not being ready to go, or perhaps there's something he hasn't done yet and with this purpose, he refuses to yield to deaths cold clutches. His eyes are kind, they still possess a softness even though they have seen horrors beyond imagination. And his voice is such of the sweet freshness of youth, even though at night, in his sleep, he cries out with longing and heartfelt pain. She has sat with him every night. She has held his hand and comforted him through his nightmares. She has wiped the sweat from his brow.
She has read to him from the Bible, and he has rekindled a hope in her, brought back that which once filled her dreams for in all this darkness he shines like a beacon in the night and once again, she can face dawn without a sense of dread. He reminds her of her son. His bandages cloak the features of his face that define him, yet his eyes remind her of the youthful, innocent wonder that brought such warmth to her as she watched her son explore the wonders of everyday life, that in which she had taken for granted. This soldier, all shot up, burned, cuts and abrasions everywhere, still had that shine. He never complained. He never expressed self pity. He accepted his fate as if he was 100 years old and had lived all of his dreams.
She lets the memories of another time fill her and she remembers when her son turned 9 years old, she got him a puppy, a mixed breed dominated with Labrador genes. He named it Mr. Smith. She at first thought what a peculiar name, but as time went by, it became precious. To hear him calling for Mr. Smith always made her smile. She remembered looking out the window as she washed the dishes and seeing him running, usually with a stick in his hand, why little boys seem to always have a stick in their hand never ceases to amaze her, and Mr. Smith chasing after him, leaping and barking and the joy that precious sight bestowed upon her lives with her still.
She looks at the soldier in Bed 13 and wonders, are there memories of a beloved puppy, locked
deep inside of a mind that is of yet still in the prime of youth, still with so much empty space
to be filled with the experiences of life, or are those memories buried with the horrors that he
has lived, the terrible things he has seen, the unimaginable fear he has faced. Her heart cries out to this young soldier, she takes his hand as he sleeps and encases it with both of hers, and
she holds it for hours, hoping that somehow, it calms his fears, or chases away the nightmares
he must face in the darkness of sleep. As the time draws near for her to have to leave him, she
kisses his forehead, gently brushes his cheeks, and hopes and prays that when she returns, he
will still be there, that he defies the forces of nature which bides its time to claim him, for another day.
She walks through the dead and the dying, the collective sound of the sobs and the cries of misery combine to drum in her ears and its force takes her breath away until finally, she is out and into the night where eerily, all is calm, a gentle breeze offers soothing comfort and she is renewed. She finds an inner strength that washes over her and she knows she can rise tomorrow and face the horrors, and the misery, the sadness that exists in this beautiful world where the moon glows in its brilliance, where the wind carries the stench away and fills the void with such newness that only a new day can bring, and for a moment, she feels Hope, and that makes her smile. 6/27/2009