The mercenary and the detective

Maxwell Williams, Major. 2020

The Sacrifice

Chaos dominated the scene. My platoon stood tall amidst the ravages of war. We are on a mission, kill all our Russian enemies.

The deafening noise and gunfire echoed everywhere. Under my command, we faced the Russians, every step calculated towards victory.

“Let's move forward carefully,” I told them as they followed me in line. We continued downhill toward the Russians. As we advanced, I noticed something strange. Our enemies had disappeared. They were no longer near their base. Which confused me even more. I knew there was another team out there, the question was, where were they?

I quickly ordered them to hide, keeping everyone on their toes.

“Get down, let's hide for now,” I tell them all, then crouch down and reload my gun. I say this to Thaddeus, one of the soldiers.

“Stand guard, me and the others will take a look.” Thaddeus nodded and adjusted his weapon, turning around, looking for any movement from our enemy, and protecting the rear. If I heard anything, Thaddeus would alert me to any threat.

That strange absence of enemies awakened my instinct to investigate. So I moved forward with the other soldiers.

“Let's go that way, and carefully. Stay alert,” I said to everyone.

We kept looking sideways, wielding our weapons. Watching for any movement. But it was very quiet, and I didn't understand what was going on.

I tried to use my skills to listen carefully to see if there was anything out of the ordinary.

When I focused on the sounds of the place. I could hear the breathing of all my friends. Every beat of their hearts revealed determination and courage. As I concentrated more, I heard a high-pitched shout.

“Sir, take cover, there's a bomb coming.” I looked at Thaddeus, and he pointed ahead of us. A bomb on a collision course with us.

My eyes widened, and I tried to stay calm.

There was no time to run. We had to try to hide.

Without hesitation, in an act of pure instinct, I pulled my companions aside and shouted desperate orders, shielding them from the impending impact.

A blinding explosion filled the field, followed by an overwhelming heat. I was thrown among the rubble and the charred bodies of my comrades. The bomb had annihilated everyone but me, surprisingly.

Despite blurred vision and ringing in my ears, I struggled to free myself from the rubble. As I looked at a fallen soldier, a mixture of sadness and determination filled my being.

“How am I still alive?”, I said to myself, looking at the wreckage covering my hips and legs. I was trapped, and everyone with me minutes before was dead.

My legs felt numb, and my face hurt. Everything was burning, I could smell the strong odor. The bomb had burned me, and my heart was still struggling not to die.

I could hardly see well. I couldn't hear well, and little by little I felt my breathing slowing down.

Alone, wounded, and dazed, a torrent of emotions flooded me. However, one thought echoed in my mind: the responsibility to live in the memory of those who sacrificed themselves.

Hours later, as I regained consciousness, I longed for death, my torn body yearning for an end. “I can't get up,” I lamented as I clutched the pistol my father had given me. The only pistol that had remained with me in the face of the bomb. I tried to hold it to my chest. My hands felt weak. I had no strength left. It was the end of me.

Hours passed, and it got dark. I had lost count of how many times I had passed out and woken up again. It was like a nightmare. The scene of war was in front of me, and I could do nothing about it.

In the darkness, a man approached, praying for the end of that war scene. Surprised to see me move, he, a Russian, helped me and took me to his humble home. He improvised an apple with pieces of wood he had found during the war.

''Hold on, I will take care of your wounds.'' He hurried me to his house. And I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the pain.

After weeks of recovery, I thanked the gentleman who had helped me. “Thank you for everything.'' I didn't know what else to say to him. The man, whose name was Olav, knew that I was an English soldier. I would be wanted by the Russians if they found me, so he helped me find a place where. I could sleep without anyone finding me. I accepted with enormous gratitude and set off in disguise among the Russians. Living in hiding. I struggled to return home but was discouraged to learn that I had been declared dead. I heard my name mentioned in a news report, and I had no reason to go back now.

As I stole food and looked for a way out, anger took hold of me. The loss of my friends in the war, the impossibility of returning home—it all consumed me.