We have been friends for a long time now, but
these days we hardly ever got to talk about much. His family and mine were both
very little, what they call a growing family. But the bond we shared was
undoubtedly love.
In
the Old days, he and I sat at the west side of the road in the evenings,
talking about our hopes and dreams, we spoke about ambitions and the
overbearing power of money, we casted lots on irrelevant things and at that
time irrelevant things made us happy, and then we drank. We always drank.
But
now, he was a Sergeant and that changed a lot of things. I looked into the
mirror for the last time and then put my cap back on. I was leaving for the Seaport,
ready to bring him home.
I
was right on time as they had gotten off the ferry and were already on shore,
probably signing out or something.
I think he saw me first, because he was waving
his left arm, I smiled and he returned it.
We
both covered a distance before we met and I couldn’t help but welcome him with
a hug like the brother he was.
“I
have a reputation to keep friend, let me go,” he whispered.
“I
see you have added one more badge to your collection,” I said releasing him.
“Yea
cost a lot. You can do a lot with an arm these days,” he said smiling.
“Pretty
badge, don’t cost an arm” I said.
“Says
a man who’ve never earned one of these,” he said pointing at the collection.
He
took his sunglasses from his left pocket using his left hand, and with both hands
he wore it on his face.
“The
weather has been really good these days, too bad men of Valor like yourself
don’t get to enjoy it.” I teased.
“I
am here now Chris, show me what I have been missing,” he said looking away. He
only looked away when he told a lie. He knew he missed a whole lot.
“Old
habit hard to die. C’mon let’s have a drink.” I said patting his back.
We
sat outside the bar, I stretched my legs forward letting both arms swing at my sides
as we ordered multiple bottles of beer.
I knew what this was, he knew it too.
Moving
back to a normal life wasn’t easy. He had to give away the old one to accept
the new one, and if he was going to do that he had to drink, he had to open up,
and he had to accept that it had been difficult. He had to be human once again.
Three
of a kind, four of another and two of my favorite beers lying on the tray. He
uncorked the first bottle, his prosthetic arm giving him away. I tried to
volunteer but he brushed my arm away.
In
an instant rush of gulps, two bottles were gone and he was already stuttering.
“No
sleep for a soldier, No sleep for a soldier, No sleep for a soldier all night
long,” he sang, and I thought, how good it was that the bar was empty, early in
the morning, normal people don’t sit in bars drinking at this time.
“When
I first heard this song Chris, I struggled with the fact that soldiers weren’t
allowed to rest at night. Chris open the damn bottle! My good hand is in pain
and the other is artificial and useless,” he yelled.
I
uncorked it and watched him intently, we were about the same age but he looked
older and sounded older too. I studied his scars and thought of the tales of
bravery behind every one of them. Compared to him I was lacking. He was a man
that carried the burden of the country grudgingly to bed every night, weighed
on his shoulders the security and safety of us all. And the sorrow, worry and
angst taken its toll on him.
“Some
nights that we don’t work, they let the windows open and the stars almost come
in, but that don’t stop me from hearing them,” He whispered.
“They are coming, their boots silently rock the
ground and their gun sounds in the air. Then the bullets come flying in the air,
every one of them aimed at me. I swerve quickly, my heart in my mouth but I
don’t hear the gun sound no more, instead I hear the bomb, the blasting bomb explodes
and the ground is shaking. I am falling into one of the holes the quake has
created. Then the intense light focuses on me and makes me realize that it was
only a dream and I had been screaming.
Not
long after, I hear the screams of the others in the rooms beside me, all night
long the soldiers scream and are unable to go back to sleep. Then the rhyme
flickered in memory and I understood. No sleep for a soldier, No sleep for a
soldier, No sleep for a soldier all night long. It’s not that they don’t let
the soldiers sleep at night, it’s that they can’t. Somebody is out there ready
to kill us, I need to fire first, I need to protect the others, we are safer to
ourselves awake because sleeping shows our fears.” he said.
“Waiter!
“I called, feeling the intensity of his gaze.
“When
I became deaf in my left ear years ago, he continued. I thought it was over and
that I couldn’t become a good official. It worried me so much. Then I got to
asking myself why I cared so much about being a good official. Then I realized,
I didn’t care.
But
somehow not getting killed the first time when I was in the same place as powerful
deadly weapons and men who killed for the pleasure made me feel immortal. I was
confident. And then I lost my left ear and my confidence was seared.
I began to know fear and once that begun I
thought that was the end of everything but It wasn’t, it was just a step away
from getting the highest rank. There was no need coming all the way up and
stepping down because of an ear. I was no coward, and besides I had another
ear.
Then,
many soldiers I knew began to die. People I cared about and most importantly
people who were more skilled than I was died. You know its treachery right? Placing
all that confidence in you, making you feel like you are some immortal. It
makes you brave, courageous. It removes every ounce of fear in you, then it
strikes. It kills you and then you are dead!” he echoed.
The
waiter looked strangely from him to me and bowed leaving four new bottles on
the table. I removed an empty one and opened another one for myself.
“Look
at them, he pointed at the trees. They are hiding behind there, they have found
us. Look, they might have set ambushes for us, get up and run,” he screamed,
rising up. I held him back to his seat.” “It’s Okay they are not there,” I
said.
“Don’t
you see their guns, they don’t miss a shot. I can see the red dot of light on
your heart, hurry!” he screamed shaking both me and the table, the bottles
containing liquor rolled and shattered on the ground and then I looked into his
eyes, the tears welling up in them, he was serious.
“I
have to leave you here, I can’t take a dead man along,” he cried.
He
ran a few meters before he fell, he was crying and holding unto his prosthetic
arm, “It hurts, don’t cut it off! It’s going to be fine, it’s not infected yet,”
he yelled.
And
then his scream echoed the terrain, his voice so full of agony that I guessed
he remembered when they cut his arm off without anesthesia. I couldn’t imagine
the excruciating pain he must have felt. He laid down there on the road
trembling and shaking and those passing by stopped in their tracks to watch,
they were slowly forming a crowd when I ran and lifted him up. I carried him to
my car.
In
the back seat of the car I laid him down. He held unto me stopping me from
leaving.
“It’s
not always bad Chris, these badges don’t always cost nothing." He smiled wearily,
and few seconds later, the alcohol won over making him pass out on the leather.
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