Brothers in Arms

As the darkness encased the scene of death and despair, just two lone figures remained. Both men understood the need for silence as the sound of sniper fire still rang out and the groans of the soon to die drew the bullets.

A skeletal building offered a sense of security in this hostile land and both men knew to make a dash for it. As they huddled through the long, cold night, not a word was exchanged. But brother to brother-in-arms, the soldiers supported one another’s backs whilst keeping a watchful eye. Each took a turn to sleep as the other stayed alert. The wordless time spoke volumes of their comradeship and was testament to the uniqueness or this absurdity called war.

Each longed to be in the arms of his wife, to smell the sweet, familiar scent and be lost in the softness of an embrace. Each longed to hear his son laugh in the next room. Each longed for the sanctuary and peace of home. Each wished his fear had no cause.

In the darkest hour just before dawn, the bullets thundered through the building once more and one soldier collapsed onto the other. As his life ebbed away, the remaining soldier stayed still beneath his comrade. The dying soldier’s blood covering him in warm, wet death. He could offer no words of comfort, he could offer nothing to his dying companion. His tears diluted the red that pooled around him as he said a silent prayer for the dying man’s soul, a brave soldier’s soul.

The sounds of the snipers was soon replaced by bombing that shook the remains of the building and kicked up thick dust. Soon the sound of footsteps mingled with clear American words – the finest he had ever heard. The troop pulled the dead soldier from the living and helped him to his feet.

“Hey man, lucky you found that guy as a shield. You must be the only one left.” Said the sweet American voice from home.

As the living soldier looked down on his dead companion, the troop unceremoniously kicked him over and murmured something about one less damn Iraqi.