Part 1: -

Where do I begin? From the evening when I got the summons from the academy or from the day when I decided to appear for the officers examination? Or from the day when I was admitted to the hospital with a bullet hole in my shoulder and and one in my chest and some broken ribs? When I look back, its all hazy now. But its there. Very much there.


As I lie here drugged, my mind hovers over my past. It was three years back, or was it four? I am not sure. A few years back (three or four), I was posted on the most sensitive border my country shared with its neighbor. Constant tensions kept the forces on both sides of the fence on their toes. There was the regular mortar rounds every weekend when the soldiers come out for games, the occasional sniper fire usually targeting someone who had the guts to smoke on the border. And then there was the monthly artillery fire. We took care of the snipers after we lost a few men to smoking. There was no cancer in their lungs but a bullet hole in the head told the story. 
Our snipers, probably the best in this part of the world took out many of the enemy snipers. It was pretty late when they got light and sound suppressors for their sniper rifles. They had already lost fifteen men to our bullets.
Their artillery had already taken a severe hit three months back when we decided to fire back with our own artillery unit. Those new German guns proved their worth. We haven't had a firing since then. 
Buts its the mortars they use the most. And still use, to some success. Minor structural damages can be sustained. But when one of us looses a limb in the random firing, that's what pisses us off the most. 

That day was different from the usual day. No mortars, no artillery fire, no snipers. The enemy outpost seemed empty. We decided to get our footballs out in the afternoon. Just to entice them to open fire but nothing happened. Some of us were monitoring the radio chatter. It seemed quiet obvious that forces were moving out of the enemy outpost. It wasn't unscheduled. Recently the enemy had decided to move out forces from the area. Their leadership had buckled under the huge international pressure. We had expected an exit. It was a little early but then there was no reason to worry. Everything seemed so much in order. So perfect. But that is exactly what was wrong with the situation. 

I had ordered my men to be on the alert. But their 'YESSSIR' was relaxed. They were hoping for a period of peace when they could get their footballs out and play in the crater ridden ground, when they could photograph the beautiful valleys around our outpost....

By 3.00 AM, nothing happened. it was silent as usual. Not a leaf moved. 

Two days later. 3.00 AM. many soldiers were drunk. Scouts had reported that the enemy had abandoned their post and had moved to a different location. Celebrations were rife in the tents which had been put out for the first time in three years. The bunkers had been our home so far. Caution was thrown to the wind. I was halfway through my third glass of whiskey when I heard what sounded like an artillery round. Was it just me? Did someone else hear it too? Every one was too busy in their drinks. Too busy dancing. Too busy flirting with the local girls who had been allowed into the camp for that night.

Three seconds later the tent next to ours burst in a blinding blame. The sound was loud enough to knock out my senses for a few seconds. I was deaf for the next ten minutes though. I got up on my feet only to be knocked down by a second explosion three seconds later. 

I didn't like what I saw when my eyes got used to the blinding light. Bodies of my comrades strewn around the place. Most of them charred beyond recognition. There was a girl who was running away from the explosions. She had a beautiful face and all I wanted to do was remove the fear from those beautiful eyes. Strange how such thoughts can come to the mind at such times. For a moment I thought I was the only one left in the camp. A pair of hands grabbed me and dragged me to the closest bunker.