Turning cold

I had just made it home from a week long work trip with a few friends of mine. We had gone to help a widow woman repair her fence to help keep her cattle from getting out. At least this way she still had a way to survive. Times were tough and I believe in helping when I can. I am William White and I am 19 years old. The war had been going on for almost a year and I had not gotten drafted yet. A lot of my buddies already went to the war and for some I already attended their funeral. I am against war and hope and pray every night that my name doesn’t get picked. When I walked in the front door of my mother’s house that day she was pale and looked sick. I knew instantly that I was leaving, she did not even have to tell me. We had a big supper and the next morning I was off to join my platoon.

First thing I heard when I get to the base is “Pvt. White report to Sergeant Molder in the bunker.”

‘Yes Sergeant” I say loudly.

“Pvt. White you are going to be a sniper and protect our men in the field, go right to training.”

In training I was with Pvt. Ron Smith. We were both recruits to be snipers. Neither of us wanted to be in the army any way, we got drafted into the army. The day came when our training was done and we shipped out to our first mission. We were both nervous but felt that we had enough training to do our job.

We have a 10 hour long trip by helicopter ride. It landed at the field base and we went right in to war. We picked up rifles and started to help defend the base. After the attack they asked who we were and if we were rifle men or a machine gunner. They were surprised that we were snipers and sent us out to join a black ops unit and escort them to a prison camp and cover them while inside. We got there and in with little resistance. Ron and I got in position to cover them in the camp. In the camp was crawling with enemies. By the time the team got to the prisoners me and Ron both had five shots left. Out of nowhere guns are going crazy and getting close to the team. They had to get out quickly before the enemy got there. They almost got to the gate when the enemy caught up to them and started to shoot. Ron and I fired our last shots and it was enough to get them and the prisoners out of that camp.

After we got back we were debriefed and happy to be alive. We were assigned to do more missions with that same black ops group. We were pretty good shots concerning our background and the fact that we never even touched a gun before. We ended up being some of the best they had ever seen. We were happy that we always got our guys out alive. I hoped that we could keep everyone from harm but that meant that we had to harm others to do that. I was not happy that I had to kill others to get the others out. This thought was the worst other than hoping not to get captured. The only thing I liked was sleeping under the stars, it made me think that I was home camping. It would rain a lot, but we could not complain because we needed to stay invisible to the enemy.

When I was a kid back home camping was my favorite. My best friend and I would camp in the woods behind his house almost every weekend and all summer long. I just heard that he was drafted to the war, but was shot and killed shortly after arriving to his base. That news hit me hard and made me want to leave this place even more. Being home sick is the worst thing when you can do nothing about it. The feeling just makes you feel like you’re under a ton of bricks and are slowly suffocating. This feeling was not affecting my ability to protect my buddies though. The last thing I wanted is to let them down and see someone I know die because of me.

Sergeant Molder told us that the war was drawing to a close and that we were starting to go on the offensive and taking out their commanders. It made me happy that the war was ending soon. I was not happy that we had to go back out into the field and go after an officer. Ron and I were assigned to go out on a very cold morning. The sky looked grey and it felt like all the goodness and warmth would never come back to the world. Ron suddenly said to me that he just got news that his twin brother was critically wounded in a hospital. They did not expect him to survive. So this news made the day seem even more depressing. I tried to keep his spirits up but there is only so much you can do, so we decided to just keep to our job and not talk that day. I can’t think about my problems I have to protect everyone. We got to the sniping spot and right after we took the shot we got surrounded by the enemy and got knocked out.

I woke up and I was by myself and had no idea where I was or what happened. I was tied to a chair and there was a voice. They were speaking Asian so I could not understand them. It felt cold so it felt like I was underground and the air was damp and musty. My only thought was of Ron. I could not remember anything no matter how hard I tried. I had no idea what happened and if Ron had been killed or not. I thought of calling out to him but I did not want to let my captors know I was awake. I was trying to gather information in my head. Like sights and sounds or anything that might give a clue as to where I was. It was so dark but I thought I could see someone else lying on the floor about 200 feet away. I had a gut feeling it was Ron. As I was looking around still tied to my chair my captors saw that I was awake. What happened next I am barely able to talk about.

I was questioned for days and when they did not get the answers they wanted I would be severely tortured. Before this experience I could not imagine such horrible treatment. By the third day I knew that this would be where I would die. I had given up hope of ever getting out of this cold dark hell on earth. That is when I heard it first. It was a faint whisper of a sound. I just thought my mind was making the sounds up. Then I saw him. It was Ron with the rest of my platoon.

It was Ron I saw on the floor. The captors thought he was dead and dumped his body in a pit. He woke up a few days later and crawled out. He went for help and my platoon killed all of the captors to get me out. I had 15 broken bones and many other injuries that I will not go into detail about to save you the nightmares. It took me six months to heal physically, but mentally I do not think I will ever be the same.

It turns out that was the last mission before the war officially ended. Ron and I got to go home. Ron found out that his brother did make it home alive, but he would be in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. That did not matter to Ron and his family they were so happy for him to be alive. Ron started a business in his hometown selling hand carved wooden furniture. I have heard from him a few times over the years and he is doing well. I had a very hard time adjusting to life after the war. It took me three years to finally decide that I wanted to become a pastor. I now run a small church in my home town. I married Susan, my childhood sweetheart and we have four kids. Even though I hated everything about the war I would not change my involvement. I believe that every experience, good or bad, teaches us a lesson and makes us who we are. I live for each day and love to see my children grow. When they ask about my scars I still cannot bear to tell the horrible stories. Maybe Someday.