My father, after seeing news on his phone and TV, decided to join the military and vowed to kill a Russian soldier. I was both perplexed by the terror they caused and eager to defend my country with my father. But each time I remembered that I was going to the battlefield, I became scared of death. I didn't want to die, but after my dad spoke out on the inevitability of death. I became rest assured that life on earth was totally nothing. These were his words:
"My Life is short, we will all die one day. To ensure our next generation that will be born in the country have independence, we must fight for them before we pass on." My father spoke out in an emotional way that built up courage and boldness within me. I really wanted to fight. I really wanted to show the strength I exhibited in video games on the battlefield. I took it up as a form of entertainment. After three days of war, my dad and I were enlisted in the military squad, despite my dramatic behaviour. The day of my dad's enlistment was tough for my mum; her emotions showed as she cried the night before and the day he was leaving. When I woke up that morning, I was glad that I would be following my dad to the battlefield and fighting for our land. However, my mum's cry changed the happy mood I was in to a gloomy one. I ran out of my room to check on my mum. She was in the living room, putting on a long green gown and holding a handkerchief in her hand. I felt bad when I sighted her bulging and red eyes. I knew she had spent the rest of the previous night crying. When she saw my presence, she gestured with her hand that I should come nearer to her. I reluctantly went closer to her.
"Kenny, why do you want to leave me all to myself. You are our generation, and without you, our generation can no longer continue. Please stay with me. Let's try and seek protection, please, my son." She pleaded, almost going on her knees.
"Mum, I wish I could stay back, but I can't. There are soldiers that only I can kill, and if I don't go, they may end up killing both of us as no one else can take them down." I said it in a bitter tone. She shook her head in a sympathetic manner. I knew she was expecting me to agree with her in staying back with her. As she continued weeping profusely. My heart melted. I wasn't expecting her to be in such a terrible mood.
"Mum, it would be alright. Keep praying for our survival. That is what we need. Dad and I would also pray for you." I said this while looking into her eyes. This was the first time I encouraged my mum. I haven't done that since when I was born.
It looked like my words were like fuel poured into a subsiding fire as she cried out loudly. It was really tough for me to bear. My mother's sorrowful state reignited my dying passion to go to the battlefield. It never killed the passion I had. I became thirsty for blood. I looked at my dad. He sat just opposite us and watched the drama unfold in his presence. His face was sullen and in a baleful state. His eyes were misty and reddish in colour. Although he reacted strongly to movies with violent and bloody scenes, his casual posture made him appear like a composed and collected serial killer. I looked at my mum; she was still crying, although in a silent mode. I tried consoling her, but all to no avail, as she kept on crying. Then suddenly, my father spoke out.
"Kenny, you have to stay at home with your mum. You are still underage." He said.
"No, dad, I can't stay at home. I want to fight. I want to narrate the battlefield to my unborn children." I said.
"Shush, you don't disobey your father's word. After all, you are committing a criminal offence. So, do yourself good by staying back."
"I am going to the war. I am eager to enter the battlefield," I said.
"Keep quiet; I won't take you there. You have to stay back," he reiterated.
"Alright, dad, I will," I said.
When my mum heard it, she stopped crying, smiled at me, and wanted to embrace me, but I didn't allow her to do that as I stood up and walked out of the living room with so much frustration burning up within me. I went into my room with tears flowing out of my eyes.
Three hours had passed; it was exactly 1:30 p.m. on the dot. My dad called me to the living room, which I did. When I got there, my dad's attire had changed. He wore a dark polo shirt with long black trousers. His eyes were teary, even more so than what I saw in the morning. Tears flowed out of my eyes voluntarily when I saw my dad's eyes. His words of encouragement were like forced ones.
"I would be back; pray for me," was his last word for us as he walked down to the car park, then we trailed him behind. My mum was still in deep tears. Dad wiped his tears, got in the car, waved goodbye, and drove away. Brinny, guess what happened that night?
"What?"
"My mum died. She cried her life out that evening. May her soul rest in peace," I said as tears dropped from my eyes.
"Ahhh… so your mum has left you. God, why?"
"Brianna, stop questioning our creator. This happened last month. I am alright now. I finally joined the military squad… let me tell you about it."
That same evening, he began telling his story without waiting for any further invitation: 'When I found my mother dead in the living room, I covered her body with a wrapper and ran out of the house with tears streaming down my face. I was determined to exact revenge on my enemies. I ran to the enlistment area with tears in my eyes. The building was a bungalow, perhaps an apartment that someone lived in before it was changed. I saw a lot of armies around the area, fully armed with weapons. They spoke our language as I approached, and waited for me to answer before thoroughly searching me and granting me access to the area. Upon noticing my tears, one of the soldiers approached me and inquired about the cause. I explained that my mother had passed away, and he shook his head before asking for the cause of death. I didn't respond. I saw his question as a way of not allowing me to be enlisted in the squad. When he noticed that I wasn't paying attention to him he held my hands and then introduced himself as General Oleksander.
"Why don't you give us the information so we can help out?" he asked staring at my face.
I looked at him with my teary eyes; I saw he was also pitiful and, at the same time, eager to hear the cause of her death.
"Sir, my mum died due to the long cry she had." I answered.
"Oh, what a pity. We are also going to return them in body bags for unleashing terror on us, and we won't pity them. Be rest assured of that." He continued, "Can you offer us the residence of your house, so we can take her away?"
I broke down in tears; I couldn't imagine that all this was happening to me in reality. I'd thought it was a dream not until when I heard him asking for my residence so that they could take my mother's corpse out. Despite the crowd waiting for the enlistment program to begin, I continued to mourn, and General Oleksander stayed to console me. After some time, I stopped crying and gave him the address of my residence as he jotted it down. After jotting down the information, he quickly took out his phone, snapped a photo, and nodded in confirmation
"Sir, I want to join the enlistment team." I said it in a hoarse tone.
"Oh no, you are underage; we don't offer it to underage people," he said.
"I clocked eighteen yesterday, sir," I lied.
"That's a lie, and again, your appearance exposes you," he said.
"Sir, I am serious. Why would I come here to sign my death when I know I am still underage?" I said, with tears dropping from my eyes.
"Alright, what is your name so I can confirm what you are saying."
Just then, I remembered that there was a site where all our information could be checked. My heart raced. My breath increased. I wasn't expecting him to check up on it. A lot of thoughts ran through my mind as he typed on the keyboard opposite him to confirm. I prayed within me.
"Damned," he banged his hand on the table in front of him, "the internet doesn't seem to work now."
The panting going on within me reduced. Then I took a deep, calming breath.
At last, my prayer had been answered, I thought.
He asked his colleague, who was on the other side of the room, if the internet was working correctly, but they all replied with negative feedback.
"Are you really sure that you are eighteen?" he asked again.
"Yes sir," I answered.
Before leaving, he gave me a pat on the back and wished me luck on my journey. As I walked towards the equipment room, my heart was heavy with the realization that I was now a soldier, and my fate was tied to the war effort. Nonetheless, I knew that I had to be brave and fulfill my duty to protect my country and its citizens.
After three days of intense training with the squad, we were deployed to the battlefield. I was too small to carry a gun, so the commander had me assist in picking up military weapons instead. Within me, I felt a pang of disappointment at first, but I soon realized that my role was still crucial to the success of our mission. I focused on performing my duties to the best of my ability, knowing that every small task contributed to our overall objective. As the days went by, I gained the respect of my fellow soldiers through my hard work and dedication, even though I never carried a gun on the battlefield. So, we were being transported to the battle front in Antonivka. Gosh!! It was hell there. We were not allowed to stay in the barracks because missiles could be targeted there. We quickly dug trenches that looked like a road. As we were digging, we noticed a drone flying over us.
"Shoot it down, they have located us," one of our colleagues shouted as he pointed to the sky.
Then a soldier fired into the position of the drone as it flew high up in the sky with tremendous speed. That was when I noticed that they had discovered us.
"Come on, guys, run for your lives." We have been located," said our commander.
All of them ran into the car as I picked up the spade and the digger and ran into the second car as we drove out. We hadn't driven for ten minutes when we started hearing mortars thrown at our position. The driver stopped; he had his hair shaved as he hit the steering furiously.
"Comrades come out of the car and defend yourself," said the driver.
We all came out of the pickup car. In a situation like that, we tried our best to lie on the floor and shoot. One of my colleagues gave me a pistol as he crawled out of the car.
"Lie down, shoot," said the commander.
We shot in the direction of the mortar. Suddenly, the vehicle we were in caught fire. I looked at it. I knew this was the death I was imagining when I was back home. My father said death was inevitable. I stood up and ran; I didn't care if I got killed. I wanted to die a straight, not painful, death. I hid at the back of the tree and watched my fellow colleagues crawl their way out.
Why don't you stand and run out? I pondered.
Instantly, the vehicle exploded. I heard people screaming. I knew the fire had caught up with one of them; tears dropped from my eyes.
Kakakakaka!!!! I started hearing gunshots from different angles. My heart started racing immediately. My instinct told me that the Russian soldiers had detected us. I prayed within me. The gunshot became very audible. I knew they had come nearer to us. Just then, I heard a scream. The scream looked so familiar to my commander. My body vibrated uncontrollably. I remembered what the instructor told our unit in training.
"You die for your country; don't betray your country by surrendering to the enemies. You fight with your last blood." I reflected on the instructor's words.
I heard a footstep approaching my position. as I lay on the ground like a dead person. I never knew how I did it, but all I knew was that the trick worked out well. Three enemies passed by my side as I heard them talk to themselves and walk away. I stayed like that for several hours until I was sure that nobody was there. However, it was already dark, so I sneaked out and crawled to the place where our car exploded. Brianna, what I saw was horrible. All our weapons were carried away. Those heartless creatures really tortured my colleague. I saw Yaroslav, whose call sign was Moses. The left side of his face was slashed into two before he died. I was told back in training that you don't touch a corpse because it has been mined and touching them would blow you up. I looked at the floor for seconds before taking a step as I walked closer to my commander. This was the first time I understood what it meant for someone to die slowly. My commander's body said it all. He was completely naked. His fingers were chopped off into pieces and scattered all around. I don't want to say much. It sounds disgusting to say, Brinny.
That same night, I decided to make my way to your house, since it was the nearest to me. I had to remove the army uniform and walk on the street naked. I would crawl or lay flat on the ground to avoid entering their zone by mistake when I saw their identification. Enemy soldiers disguised as civilians occupied houses and had vehicles stationed along the road. I walked naked for three hours in the night before I located several heaps of clothes thrown outside. That was where I got this hood, which I am putting on now, and then covered my body with the clothes and slept there. The next morning, as I continued my journey, I came across a harrowing scene - numerous corpses lying on the ground. Most of them were servicemen, but I also saw some innocent civilians among the dead.
At this point in Kelvin's story, I was surprised to see a scar just at the lower part of his left cheek. The hood did its best to cover them but couldn't cover them very well.
"Kenny, what happened to you at the left side of your cheek?" I said, staring at the area.
He chuckled and used his hand to draw the cap so it would cover well: "A shrapnel hit me there... I know you don't know what it is, but our commander showed it to us and told us to avoid it."
"Open it up; let me see it very well," I said.
Torrents of tears started rolling down his cheek. I pondered what made him shed tears—whether it was the story he told or the scare that I reminded him of. I became so emotional too and started weeping like a baby. As soon as he saw me crying, he started consoling me.
"My Mila… do you know the reason why I am crying?" he asked.
"Please what is it?" I asked in a creepy tone.
"I don't know if my father is among those corpses lying down on the street," he said.
"Be very proud of your father. He fought for you and died a hero defending his country. My father is also on the battlefield, together with my brothers. I am happy that they never chickened out—they went all out to fight for us. Please don't cry." I tried not to shed tears as I consoled him.