Modern Warfare

It was late when I received the call, and truth be told I had been expecting it. Though I wasn’t able to see my commanding officer, I could feel the arm gestures as the briefing began.  The enemy had been massing on our border for the last few days; something I had already known, it wasn’t much of a secret.  Command wanted them gone, dealt with, bodies stacked high.

There would be no backup; time and manpower was a rare commodity.  Besides, I had proven myself capable of situations like this in the past.  I would be dropped in hot, and I was going to be hard pressed to take care of business before they overwhelmed me.  The EVAC was to be about a half hour after the drop.  Thoughts of how impossible the situation was had begun to take hold in my mind; I had seen the recon reports myself, the forces waiting for me were to formidable for a single man to tackle; a man would have to be suicidal, insane, incredibly stupid, or perhaps all three to take on that mission. So I did.

Before I knew it I was in hell on earth.  I just touched down when I was hit with an agonizing pain shooting through my arms and up my spine.  My vision was obscured by a thick white fog; I couldn’t see my hands in front of me.  I panicked and groped around blindly for my weapon; an uneasy sigh escaped when my fingers brushed against it.  A defiant grin spread across my face as I turned to meet the legion of enemies poised to attack.

Stealth… it was the only way that I could have survived.  I stalked them, waited for my chances to attack, to thin out their ranks.  When I struck, it was swift and deadly.  I dragged them into the fog, over-powered them, and in the shadows my weapon slashed across them.  Some put up a stronger fight; we grappled, my weapon seemed ineffective, but even then it was only a matter of time before it hit a vital spot.  Several times I felt a warm liquid soak through my shirt, but I was often preoccupied to the point where I didn’t even think to check it.  I only hoped it wasn’t my blood.

Time passed, battles became less frequent, and in the end a disquieting calm descended.  I hunted about for any stragglers and found none; I had won.  A cool rain began to fall, attempting to cleanse the battlefield.  It washed away the horrors I had inflicted.  Standing there I looked at my hands and felt a chill run throughout me.  They looked different, wrong… hideous.  Had the battle done this?  Were my actions so gruesome that I was physically becoming a monster?  I looked about, the rain was coming to an end; the bodies of the fallen stacked as per my orders.  My commanding officer called in, reminding me to get to the extraction point for the EVAC.

I casually wiped down the sink before making my way upstairs to let my wife know that I finished the dishes.

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I really should spend more of my lazy free time doing some fun writings like this one.  When I had originally wrote this a few months ago it was just after I had received a textbook on the concepts of writing.  One of the suggestions was to start out an idea session by taking something incredibly dull and flipping it around to make it entertaining.  Seems that at this point in time the thing that caused the most boredom for me was doing the damned dishes.  So why not make it seems like an epic struggle filled with danger.  It may not be written overly well but it amused me then and it still amusing me now.