Wars and families.

War is so much more than just history. Let’s just hope we never write such a history again.

The sun was right above his head, and behind him, the field was a rainbow of small flowers. The boy’s forehead was sweaty and his heart was running a lost marathon. Anticipation and reflexes were his only hope, but throughout the nineteen years that he had lived, he had learned that they were not the best kind of hope. His seniors always told people that training and reality had a very significant difference, and as he hid behind trees and under bushes, he could tell what the difference was. His enemies were no longer wooden targets or friendly faces. They were strangers, and as real as he was.

Bruce had joined the army when he was seventeen because his country was in the middle of a war and he knew they needed every soldier they could get. 1942 was a lethal year, and that is when he had turned nineteen. After severe and quick training, he was being sent to a battlefield right in the middle of his training program because they didn’t have time. Soldiers were falling in huge numbers every day and the World War didn’t differentiate between soldiers, and citizens. One of the many reasons he had joined the army was because he wanted to be one of the reasons why his mother and little sister woke up every morning. He wanted to protect them.

Even now as he headed towards his possible victory or death, he could see a smile on his sister’s face and hope in his mother’s eyes. And then like a curse and a nightmare, he imagined them being tortured and a sharp sting sliced his spine and brought his focus back to the field. His weapons were clashing against a thirty year old man who was fighting for his family, just like Bruce was. Amidst a war for the country and the millions of people living in it, families had become weapons of mass destruction. The only reason he could land his shots in the center of the man’s forehead was because he had a family to get back to. He kept that in mind as he shot bullets and hid behind anything that could give him a temporary shield.

After what seemed like an infinity, but was just an hour, a bullet went right into his heart and he couldn’t even scream. The war continues around his as he lay on the ground. He tried to think about his family or remember their faces, but he could not. Why was it so tough when he needed it the most? This wasn’t the only question he didn’t get an answer to, as he passed away.

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