The 43rd War

By Louise Moeri

Posts Written By Sami

I Am A Soldier

Instead of holding a toy
In my hands
I clutch onto a gun
My hands tremble
And I shut my eyes tight
And BANG
I fire

I can hear them scream
I do not like it
But cannot complain
For the fear
Of falling prey to
The Sergeant

No one is there
To keep me company at night
When I wake up panting and screaming
It is depressing knowing that
No one will be there
To make the nightmares go away
No one will forgive me
If I make a mistake
Instead BANG
And they will blow off my head

No matter how hard it is
I still manage to cope up with it
Because this is all I have
This is my past, my present and my future
This is what it is like
To be a soldier

Day Eight

I am a soldier. I mean I have finally become a true soldier, a soldier with a heart and mind of one. My life will never be the same due to this and I don’t think I want it to be that way again. Now no matter where I go, I will be on alert every second of the day. I am smarter, wiser, stronger and have witnessed things that will never make me see otherwise. I finally understand the meaning and the need for a war to begin. I understand why people will participate in wars and I also completely understand why it is necessary. It is the only way to get something done most of the time and it is the most effective way of getting in control and doing the right thing. I have taken many lives, for the better of my country, and I have also saved my lives, not because I have to but because I have a brotherly bond to all the other revolutionaries, including Juan. I would try my hardest to save them whenever they got into trouble and maybe one day they would return the favor because it’s our duty to not let fellow revolutionaries die. I have learnt many things from my experience so far. One thing is that even though war is a cruel and brutal thing, it is an effective way to make our country a better place for our people. The second thing is that even though we lost the forty third war against the loyalists over San Ildefonso there will be another. Now when I become a teacher I know that I will be improving it one step at a time. I mean that is really what this is all about, no?Image:https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr8LVChHCDrlw2aK-Qvwx3Uot9fc7t3CFMa_4wqHiNIh1SSFVm_5q4p0Ne9ofDYg2TgG2zX7N1W0yBRKe6e18SbVC0ZqZxyH33B6T97i9DCOUOGnlpFkuREZTMYrOdQiMcm0R6L4veR74h/s400/drc_children_congolese_child_soldiers_congo_child_fighters%5B1%5D.JPG

Day Seven

Blood. Death. Screams. I’ve shot many people. I have taken many lives. I don’t know if I even had shot any loyalists on the boats or if my bullets had reached anyone but it I gave it my all and tried really hard to avenge the deaths of the villagers. I haven’t been part of the army for very long and I am beginning to act like I have been trained for years and years. I am now going into a long tunnel of reality, my only companion being my riffle with loads of ammunition and I cannot back out of this tunnel because the only exit has been sealed shut. My way is forward, I don’t have much training but we must win San Ildefonso back from the loyalists. And we must win it back soon. The captain is right. Even though I have a small amount of training that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get San Ildefonso back and we get it back soon. If we don’t then we loose the war and we gain many, many long years of suffering and many years of death and starvation. Even though I have hardly any training I am ready to start fighting in the war for the good of my people and for the good of the future generations. I am not a babysitter, I can fight I will prove it to Whistler, Juan, Esteban and the others who think I am not capable or worthy of even holding my rifle. I am sure, no; positive that I can fight and that we will win this war.

image:http://thankyoudaddy.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/sudanese001.jpg

Day Five

The thought of the attacked village, the dead people, and the two children remained in my head for a really long time. How on heavens name could people be so heartless towards people? Especially the children, they didn’t deserve to die, they weren’t hurting anyone. They are innocent, heck the entire village was innocent they didn’t mean anyone any harm. When I saw the girl and her baby brother, my entire life took a drastic turn. The sadness and fear on Magdalena’s face will haunt me for the rest of my life. How dare the loyalists do such a cruel, inhumane thing to people? I hate them. I hate them so much that I will devote all my life to get even with the loyalists. Powerful or not, no one has any right to do any such thing to anyone. Lolo and Ignacio look as though they don’t care. As if they don’t have emotion towards it. Perhaps inside they do care but not a single look of concern, or sadness ever crossed their faces. To them war is war and those who die in it are just a minor loss. They don’t mind killing people. I mind a lot. I cannot even shoot someone without having a cloud of guilt covering over me and persuading me not to raise my gun. Whatever has happened to me today has truly changed me for the better. Now I will be known as silent Uno. So silent that even a mouse is louder than me. Now that I am part of the Patrol I can avenge the deaths of those villagers.
image:http://www.imemc.org/attachments/oct2007/iyad_bornat_being_attacked_by_israeli_soldiers_during_bilin_protest__file_2007.jpg

Day Two

War is nonsense. It is harsh and cruel and creates unnecessary bloodshed. All the other boys, the Captain and Sergeants think war is a necessary precaution. They think that if we go to war with the Loyalists’ then peace will be restored. That is all ridiculous nonsense. If they think that peace can be restored then they have another thing coming. There will never be peace in here not unless the revolutionaries and the loyalists come to some sort of an agreement, but that will never happen. Everyone over here thinks that war is the easiest way to reach to peace. They think that we can gain freedom if we win this war. The simple, plain truth is that the revolutionaries will never win. The Loyalists will always get back at us and there will be no way on this earth that they Loyalists will ever let us win. There have been forty two wars for peace between the revolutionaries and the loyalists and now this is the forty third. Do they honestly believe that we still have a chance of gaining peace let alone winning? No matter what there will always be a division between the poor and the rich. Neither one will help each other no matter what the Revolutionists say. The war won’t help anyone but the rich. It has always been like this. The rich will become even richer and the poor will just die or get so poor that death is the only option they have left. If by some miracle the Revolutionists to win the war then they will be the Loyalists and the old loyalists will become the new revolutions. This is a cycle, a never ending cycle.

image:http://kassandraproject.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/child-soldiers_7866.jpg

Day One

Escape. Escape is the one world, the only word that means exactly what I plan on doing. I need to get out of this hell hole pronto. I don’t belong in this place. I don’t fit in with all the other recruits. They are more experienced or more experienced than I myself am. The other boys, the older boys, seem emotionless. I could sense that they were cold, soulless, stern boys. They couldn’t feel any emotions at all. I could see all this from their facial expressions and the stiffness in their body movements. Ignacio, Lolo and I are sore thumbs here. None of us know understand what is going on and none of us know what will become of us. I’m extremely lost, and confused. Today I am a new recruit. Tomorrow I may as well be dead or close to it. My mouth aches as though someone has sewn it shut and I can’t ask anyone anything, not like I would’ve asked anyone anything after the incident in the truck. No one seems to be friendly at all. Not the other boys and not the Sergeants. The Sergeants demanded constant respect and undivided attention almost all of the time they were with us. Throughout the day I could only think of mother and her face was stuck to my head as if someone pinned it there forever. Her face was masked in sadness and hatred when she found out that her son was taken away from her forever. I don’t belong here and I never will. None of the other boys and I will ever get along and I know this for a fact. Escape. I have to get away from here. I must escape. I have to go back to mother back home where I belong and where my family needs me. But escape, is so darn close to impossible that it’s just become another synonym for impossible in my mind.

image:http://www.mofa.go.jp/policy/human/image/p_survey.jpg