The battle of the Swelf

As the night sky grew darker I knew we were about to make a last stand. The enemy had overwhelmed us and we had lost all hope.  But we still had that certain fire in our hearts… that fire which gave us strength as we knew that our sacrifice would be appreciated. That Our sacrifice would not go unnoticed. We were the 30^th Rifle Division. We were those men who died to defend others. We were those men who gave their last breath for their country. This is our story.

 

“Set up anti aircraft around the perimeter! I want mines planted in front of that bunker. Wilson! Tell your squad to set up the barbed wire…It’s gonna be a long night”, shouted the captain, as sweat slipped down from his brow.

 

Jason and I helped the men unload the crates full off ammunition and weapons. I was only 23 and had entered the army for I felt I had a duty to my country. Jason did likewise, I knew him well as we were childhood friends and had grown up together. We were almost like brothers. As we trudged past the tents we heard various muttering about how we had reached the end of our lives, and how we were about to be massacred by the Iranians.

 

“Do you believe we’ll make it out alive”, asked Jason as his forehead creased with thought.

 

“There is always hope as long as good men remain fighting”, I said. But my heart thought otherwise. I had begun to feel that unless help came soon we were goners.

 

As we moved around observing and occasionally helping our brothers in arms, hope grew in our hearts. Our defences were being strengthened.  Various trenches were dug and filled with provisions that may come of use. Mines were scattered around, thus providing us safety from tanks. We could actually manage to win. As I looked across the horizon I saw our enemies approach us, my grip tightened on my rifle as I prepared to aim…

 

The night sky was filled with the whistling noise of shells falling upon us. We still remained put, standing tall and with a gleam in our eyes.

 

“Give ‘em hell!”, the captain roared as he grabbed his Carbine and joined his men. I always admired him, for he was a unique man, one who stuck with his men no matter what. In all our fights he was the first to enter and the last to leave the battlefield. He also treated his men well and he was never happy until he saw all his men reach their destination safely.

 

Our company started firing repeatedly. I had never seen them with such energy. It was as if the thought of being cornered and defeated was abominable to them; they were ready to do everything in their power to be victorious…They were ready to do everything not to let their country down.

 

Our first line of defences worked marvellously. Most of the enemy’s vehicles had turned into burning wreckage. The sound of weapons being reloaded and fired was so continuous that it turned into a buzz.

 

The battled seemed about to turn to our favour, but suddenly a bomb struck us in the most crucial part of our trench like a knife in the dark.  As our cover collapsed I felt enclosed as I saw the enemy approaching from all sides.

 

“Retreat! Retreat to the bunker!” ordered the captain, his face absent of any emotion.

 

I started to follow my company when I heard Jason say, “Go on! I’ll catch up!”

 

3minutes later we had arrived in the bunker. I was searching for Jason frantically but I couldn’t see any sign of him. Suddenly I heard a voice shouting and pointing outside and I. curious went to see what had struck him.

 

It was Jason. He had remained behind to give us some cover and to buy us some time. He was now shouting at the top of his voice and firing like a devil. With ever bullet that he shot, a man fell down, life seeping out of him. Jason stood there, fighting back the horde of enemies alone. But he was not immune; My eyes filled with tears and I felt as if my heart was pressed as I saw his body shaking as it filled with the enemies bullets. He, with an amazing last burst of strength threw 2 grenades in the enemies midst, before he fell lifeless…

I couldn’t believe it…Jason dead… I had always imagined that we would both survive the war or perish together. The sight of his body falling would imprint itself in my memory forever.

 

The rest of the battle was all blurred to me. All I remember was the anger inside me as I tried to kill as many of the monsters that killed my best friend. Not even the triumph of victory cured my grief.

 

Two days later, I was back in my home country and I put the first bouquet of flowers on my friend’s grave. I did not try to hide the tears in my eyes. I watched as the president awarded him the Medal of Honour and the soldiers fired several shots in the air as a last sign of respect to their fallen comrade.

 

I felt that I should write my experience to honour my friend Jason. People who say that the war was useless are saying that those men who gave their life for their country died for a useless purpose. Jason’s memory should be honoured as very few people could have done his sacrifice. I must go now…My Duty to my Country awaits.

 

David Out.