The Hero

There I was, with the bitter taste of sand violently blowing in my face. The taste was vile. I saw sand as far as the eye could see but on the horizon there was a lonely tree standing by itself. I could feel the heat of the hot sun shining on my exposed skin and that made my body feel like it was melting in a furnace, but the cold metal from my gun in the palm of my hand helped sooth the pain coming from the giant fireball in the sky, the sun. The sound of moving cogs and firing guns was blocking out my train of thought, the sound was unbearable. The stench of exhaust fumes was overpowering me and it did not go away, it stayed lingering in the air with a mix of burnt plastic and fired bullets. I felt like passing out on the sand because the smell was so strong.

The bitter taste reminded me of bread that had been lying out in the sun for weeks and become mouldy. I was very nervous, scared and excited. I had all these feelings and they did not let me calm down or allow my mind to relax. Most of all I was confused. I wanted it to start but at the same time I wanted it to finish. I felt like I was part of a pack of wolves and we were stalking our prey until it was the right time to attack.

The lone soldier stood by as gunfire from hell kept him and his battalion pinned down but when all hope was lost the light from heaven rained down on the soldiers. The soldier let out a bellowing cry and a tear came to his scarred eye. He had had enough of hell, he wanted to finish so that he could help his soul mend itself. The soldier was nameless, from birth. He had been made into a lean, aggressive, killing machine. He had never been loved and wanted to make amends for his past mistakes.

Many people joined the army out of a sense of pride; a need to belong or to fight for their country but in his case it was for a completely different reason. All heroes are made in different ways, some by the gods, some by the people and some by the mistakes of others but they are never made by the law. This hero was a criminal with no heart and no care in the world.

He had come into this world unwanted and unloved. His mother had rejected him and put him into care at the first sign of trouble. He was only nine. His childhood had been spent going from care home to care home where he was treated as if he was an animal. He had been expelled from more schools than he could remember. Eventually he had got in with a really bad crowd. Not that he needed a lot of encouragement to do wrong. With this group of thugs he had finally committed the unthinkable. They had set fire to a house with a family in it. The family had burnt to death.

When he was finally arrested, he was given a simple choice a life sentence in prison or a life sentence in the army. He had chosen the army, not because he thought it was an easier option, but because the guilt of what he had done was eating him up and he wanted to make amends for his horrific crime. This was the reason why he had trained day and night and had requested that he be sent to the front line. He did not care whether he lived or died. This internal madness is what made him so committed to fighting and killing without a thought for his own survival.

When he let out his frightening shriek even his allies were scared, they thought that he had lost the plot and gone mental. The sound quietened down until there was dead silence. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Then the brave, psychopathic soldier stumbled up a rough, hot, sand dune and when he reached the top, it seemed like he had been climbing for an eternity. His head peaked over and then the barrel of his gun followed. As his magazine emptied he prepared to reload but everyone watching him knew that as soon as he took his finger off the trigger he would be shot to a pulp. The enemy got closer and closer, they seemed invincible and then inevitably he got hit. The one man army was going down. His brave friend sprinted like a cheetah chasing its prey but in this case it was a soldier saving his best friend.

At one point the world seemed to stop spinning but the soldier carried on feeling his pain, he thought that his life was over so he closed his eyes and started to think about all of the mistakes he had made in his lifetime. He felt his whole life flash before his eyes and then the warm touch of loose sand spraying on his face made him open his eyes. When they opened it was like a baby who was seeing the first light of day for the first time in his life. The tug on his shirt made him snap out of the state of mind that he was in, and as he looked over his shoulder he saw the only person ever to care about him, the face that he was wishing would not be as stupid as to risk his life for a cold hearted killer like himself. The courageous soldier lifted the iron man, the one man army, the hero, over his shoulder and leapt over the dunes as if he was flying and there was nothing in his path. As the brave friend reached the safety of their camp and hit the ground, bullets were flying everywhere. Everyone was fearing what this insane man would do next.

His leg was wounded and blood was gushing out. He did not want anyone to make a fuss because nobody ever had. When the closest medic arrived he wanted to take the soldier to the field hospital, but he did not want to go. He simply asked for a belt to put around his leg so the blood leaving his body would stop and he could carry on fighting. He sat up and the only person that was not standing there watching him was the man that had saved his life. His one and only friend helped him up and told him never to scare him like that again. For the first time in his life he knew that he had found a true friend and that his life would never be meaningless and without purpose. He was ready to take on the world. He was no longer alone.