Learn How to Breathe

Explosions rip in the background. Men scream for one last time before a round of gunfire drives by. They fall silent before a thud of something hitting the dirt breaks out. With every soldier that falls to the dirt, we fell one of their own. That was the rhythm of war, and me and my men have been repeating this process for days on end.

It never ends, and on this specific day, I found a bullet piercing into my body. After the first naturally came the second, then the third, until the fourth ended the barrage of misery. One struck me right in my stomach, two pierced my lungs, one for each, and one struck my shoulder. The world turned red, and I fell to the dirt. Someone called for me, but I couldn’t hear what they said after my name.

Gunfire continues to spray into the array of new recruits and washed up veterans. My brothers and sisters fell before the enemy's machine guns. I wanted to fight back, but my legs couldn’t move, and worst yet, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t suck in air, or even breathe it out. With the two bullets lodged in my lungs, breathing is a distant memory.

I flexed my hand and reached instinctively for an important item. Suddenly, the realization came to me. Even if it could somehow heal the bullet wounds in my best, I don’t have my inhaler with me. I left it back at base since I didn’t want it to break while out on the battlefield.

Ever since I was a young boy, I suffered from asthma. It was especially frustrating as a kid when I saw the neighborhood children playing outside. I always asked Momma if I could join them, but she would tell me that it would be no good. Always stay inside. Never leave, unless I forget how to breathe.

I would always carry an inhaler with me, just in case I forgot how to breathe. When those times came around, all I would need to do was grab the inhaler from my pocket, hold it to my mouth, and press the button and I could breathe again. It was almost like magic, but in reality it was just the fact that humanity progressed so far scientifically that we could teach the human body how to breathe again.

Since man could teach the body how to breathe again, I’m sure I can too. Even with iron in my lungs, it’s possible. Despite everything I learned in school, through sheer willpower and human determination, I can breathe. I can breathe.

Another explosion thunders on the battlefield. It was way too close this time, sending both rubble and soldiers in the air. A soldier lands on top of me, right on my chest with two exposed bullet wounds. The pain wrecked my body and spirit, sending whatever oxygen was leftover into the world around me as I gasped from the pain. I don’t know if that soldier was alive. I didn’t dare look.

My friends and team are dying around me. Their bodies flying into the air. Meat and bone collapsing under the weight and heat of a bullet. Heads flying and bodies deforming until they’re unrecognizable. If I can only breathe, then I can stand once again and fight along my fellow soldiers.

A new wave of gunfire passes by and a new wave of screams erupts from the mouths of my fellow humans. Man made death fires and explodes around me as I can do nothing but slowly let life leave my lips.

I use the remaining energy in me to move my arm over my chest. The only method left for me to do is use CPR on myself. I don’t think it’s going to work, but I need to breathe. I have to breathe.

I raise my arm, and pound it on my chest. Although I say I pounded it, it was more of a weak slap that looked more like I had given up than attempted to push on. By all means, that should’ve given me pain, but I couldn’t feel anything.

The wind as it sweeps through my hair. The pain of the bullets moving in my chest and arm. The way the dirt scraped against my bare skin showing from my tattered clothes. It all fell into the unfeeling void that wanted to breathe before he could feel.

A new wave of bullets pass by, and even more screams erupt from the dirt and rubble. The scream of man made death firing again and again until all of my soldiers were filled with lead. Man can surely create wonderful things, can’t they? They can create both the tools for life, and that of death.

My vision begins to dull and dim. The world begins to blur as the sun manages to break through the clouds of ash and dust in the air. Another soldier falls, and they land in front of me. I couldn’t see their face, but I just know they’re still alive.

I reach out for them and pass on my message. My soldier, my fellow man unrightfully brought down by the people who don’t even know your name, I beg of you for one thing.

Learn how to breathe, and carry on the fight. Learn how to breathe, and live another day. Learn how to breathe, and remember the sacrifice.
As the world fades to black, I pass on my message. Hopefully they receive it, and humanity can march forward once more.