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What its Like To be a Soldier

What it’s like to be a soldier
Its something I cannot explain
The mixed feelings that have passed through me
It’s like a bundle of emotions

The fear
Getting shot with piercing bullets
Tearing through my flesh
Cracking through my bones
Or even killing another
With the same pain and cruelty.

The unified soldiers
Working together
If one falls
The other steps in
To help, to support, to win.

The anger
The madness of it all
How nothing can be right
42 revolutions
42 killings
and this one is just like the rest.

The exact same.

What its like to be a soldier
Its something I cannot explain.

Day 1

Dear Journal ,
One day, just one day here and we get raided. Attacked by the socialists. I didn’t think I would get caught in the first place back at the village. When the soldiers got a hold of me I was shaking. It was unbelievable. To be in the grasp of the soldiers, unable to move, and if I tried to make a run for it; I’d get shot before I could even take half a step. Mother was screaming for me, and I felt terrible because I was the only one left to support the family. I’d hate to see what sort of grief she’s in. Concepcion, though, I hope will be able to take care of the rest. The attack had me trembling with terror. It was the darkest I had ever seen the world, no star to shine any hope. It was like I was blind, alone in the darkness. Lucky for me I had Lolo and Ignacio. Who knows what kind of stupid thing I would have done if it wasn’t for them. There are only really two other people at the camp that I can talk to. Esteban and Juan, the rest are either new recruits like me, or too lost or too involved with their flat black emotionless eyes, and skinny arms and legs. Esteban, a boy training here for the revolution for the past 3 months, about to face a fight against his father, a socialist. How can someone to that? Fight against their own blood? Most of us don’t even have fathers anymore, but Esteban says that his father is dead. The thought of it though, pointing a gun and about to shoot it at my father…This day has been overwhelming now. Most of the time we’re not allowed to even talk here, and have to speak to each other at a whispering level. And the Whistler and Sergeant Diaz, with their venomous eyes, ordering us around, training us to become the muscular and fearless soldiers this country needs. It’s only been one day…and my arms feel like they could fall off, my legs are numb and I ache all over. I feel like I could sleep for weeks, but now really knowing that I’ll never go home again, and see the faces of the people that I know and love; it just makes it harder to fall asleep.

Day 2

Dear Journal,
42 revolutions. Ignacio says there have been 42 revolutions in this country. What makes the one that we are about to fight in, and risk our lives for any different? What makes people think that the 43rd will be the one to change how the country works, when 42 haven’t yet? We don’t want to be soldiers. I haven’t talked to anyone else lately, just the usual with Esteban, Juan, Ignacio and Lolo. Esteban and Juan have already been brainwashed by the revolution talks. Ignacio and Lolo are trying hard, to learn and master handling their rifles. I, though, however, am not convinced I will ever become a successful soldier and make a difference in this war, and just barely get knocked out of the battlefield the moment I step in. But I still try, because it’s all I can do. I’m sure though, under all the confidence the others may display like Whistler, there is still doubt in his mind about all this. We are all improving though. Two days of intense training, still have us beat at the end of the day, but the fact of becoming a soldier, and the importance of the revolution does slowly start to sink in, but it’s still not worth what we’ve had to give up. In an odd way, I feel glad to be a soldier, I feel like I can at least kill Juan or Esteban. Are we drafted to be soldiers, or forced to fight?

Day 5

Dear Journal,
It was maddening. I cant handle the emotions rushing through me. Misery rushed through me into my veins. How could any group of people wipe out that entire village? It was a bloodbath. Every inch of that village was covered in blood. Not one spec was left clean. Everyone in that village was left dead, however I did manage to find two people alive from this slaughter. A girl about my age, barely alive, and a young child, the girl’s brother. I had to carry the baby, ammunitions, the blankets and the rations to a nearby village to be treated. It was hard work and my feet were aching, but we were lucky to get there safely. I had time to remind myself of the village and that massacre that took place. I hated the loyalists for tearing apart the village like that. Yet, when we were ordered to shoot the few loyalists less than about 15 feet away from me. I could get myself to shoot the man. Here I am, in a war, and I cant fire at people who come from the group that wiped out that entire village. Lolo had no problem shooting, and taking away those boots. But I was just glad we got rid of that thing after what it did to his feet. What I had seen today was something that will be left in my for me whole life. Scarred.

Day 6

Dear Journal,

I’ve become more a part of this war than I thought, soldiers; fighting to make a stronger, better government system. Get rid of the loyalists so that we can rule. But after what Juan said, it made me think of us more like thieves or bandits. Captain Mendoza, of all people, the man I had oddly connected with, stole. Put it any other way you want, but it all comes down to the same thing. He took the money from the bank. I suppose for our side it was something we needed, and I need to think of the positive side to that…but its still something stuck in me. Those people also needed the money, however, I suppose there will have to be some sacrifices made in this revolution.

Day 7

Dear Journal,
Obviously, since I’m here training for the war, I’m going to be in a battle, but I just never thought it would be this soon. I hope we’re all prepared enough to fight. Without our food we become as weak and useless as used rags. I’m too afraid of death, even though we’re in a war and death is more likely than anything else. It still haunts me, because now I fell that there is some hope for us. To win this revolution, and I will be able to go back home. With Lolo and Ignacio, and see our families again. I didn’t think I would be able to fight in a war. I mean two days ago I was too coward to shoot a man. A loyalist. Today however, it’s a little different. It seems I’ve shot a few people, or maybe my shots missed by miles and it was really Lolo’s bullets that tore through the loyalists skin. In a way, its still something I hope I wont have to do again. Taking away another life, even though, the loyalists would shred me to pieces if they ever had the chance. For me, taking away a life, is not something I want, but it’s sinking in now. War and its concept. Nevertheless, I still shot. I pulled the trigger and let the bullet free out of my gun. I was just like them now. A revolutionary. A soldier.