"Have you called home yet?" said a soldier from the barracks.
"I don't want to give my family something to worry about," replied another soldier.
"Yeah, but I wrote them a letter. Tomorrow's my kid's birthday."
Alex heard the soldiers beside him chatter. All of them had families to worry about, yet Alex, though had a family, did not care at all. His father being a drunkard and his mother addicted to gambling was the worst combination a child could have.
He looked around him. All of his brothers had families they wanted to go home to. All of them had warm smiles thinking about their loved ones, but their inevitable demise would end it all. The country would not even remember their names; the most they could have is their names etched on a big stone for their families to look at and remember.
Their families would not see their bodies, left rotting for days to come. Because who are they? They are just foot soldiers. Cannon fodder. They already knew that coming here would not end well for them.
What put the final nail in their coffin was the fact that their commanders and some important personnel had already left by helicopter.
Alex looked outside, and then at the warm smiles of his brothers. But he could see in their eyes the sorrow and pain they were feeling.
For the country!
'For the country, my ass!' he thought. Soldiers like them were doomed to die. The moment the country saw no worth in them or the post they were defending, the moment they lost hope that the soldiers could succeed, they would stop their support and leave the soldiers to their own devices.
Alex knew better.
'This country has already abandoned us.'
As much as he wanted to believe in his pledge, it was no longer worth it to even think of the country. He looked around and sighed.
These pure soldiers would get themselves slaughtered for a country that did not even care for them anymore. All the country thought of these low-ranking soldiers was that they were people to dispatch to slow the enemy's advance to the main base.
They had families, for f*ck's sake. All Alex could think of right now was how to protect them. It wasn't for the country anymore, the goal was to survive. To make the country that abandoned them regret.
His brothers, with whom he shared life-and-death situations, his brothers whom he respected, his brothers who accepted him—these were the only people worth protecting.
In the silence of the night, Alex lay on his bunk, his mind racing. He couldn't bear the thought of his brothers dying for a country that had already written them off. They deserved better. They deserved a fighting chance.
He glanced around the dimly lit barracks, taking in the faces of his comrades—men who had become his family. Their soft snores and murmurs in sleep only fueled his resolve. He knew what he had to do.
Silently, Alex rose from his bed and began to gather his gear. He moved with practiced stealth, slipping past the sleeping forms of his brothers. He knew the layout of the enemy's camp; they had scouted it numerous times. The enemy's supply depot was heavily guarded, but a well-placed explosion could change the tide of the battle.
He gathered a bag full of C4 and a detonator. The guards in charge of the night watch didn't notice his movement. If there was anything he could be proud of, it was that sneaking was his best talent. No one here could notice him even if he went to desert them, but that he wouldn't do.
Before leaving, Alex took a last look at their base, whispering a silent promise. "I won't let you die in vain."
The night was his ally as he made his way towards the enemy camp. The darkness cloaked his movements, and his training guided his steps. He reached the outskirts of the enemy base, where he observed the guards' patrol patterns. His heart pounded, but his mind was clear. He had one chance to make this count.
From afar he could see the enemy's base. Due to their strategic location, they had not been able to outdo them in any field of combat. This had cost him some of his brothers. But hopefully tonight, he could make their enemies regret their life choices.
Moving with calculated precision, Alex planted explosives at critical points around the enemy's supply depot. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness of the night, but he pressed on, driven by the faces of his brothers.
There were guards and watchmen around the enemy's base, but due to their recent victories, the enemy had grown arrogant and had gone to enjoy themselves for a bit, knowing that tomorrow was the day they could wipe the soldiers out.
As he placed the last charge, an enemy soldier spotted him. The alarm was raised, and chaos erupted. Alex fought his way through the enemy ranks, his only thought to get to a safe distance to detonate the charges.
For a lone soldier to be here, death was the only outcome. But as the saying goes, a cornered rat knows how to bite. He took down several enemies while minimizing his wounds. Though no matter how good of a marksman one is, they still can't fight a barrage of bullets at once.
A shout echoed through the camp as the first enemy soldier fell, Alex's knife buried in his throat. Alex didn't waste a second, drawing his sidearm and firing at the nearest targets. Bullets whizzed past him as he darted between the shadows, using the confusion to his advantage.
Two more soldiers rounded a corner, and Alex dropped them with precise shots. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as a bullet grazed him, but he ignored it, his focus unwavering. He rolled behind a stack of crates, reloading his weapon with practiced speed.
More enemies converged on his position. Alex tossed a flashbang, the explosion of light and sound disorienting the advancing soldiers. He emerged from his cover, his movements fluid and deadly. He took down three more enemies, each shot a testament to his training and determination.
He reached the edge of the depot, planting the last charge just as reinforcements arrived. A barrage of gunfire forced him to dive for cover. He fired blindly over the top of his barricade, buying himself a few precious seconds. He had to get to a safe distance.
An enemy soldier lunged at him with a bayonet. Alex parried the attack, using the soldier's momentum to throw him to the ground. He finished him with a quick, brutal strike and kept moving.
The enemy was closing in from all sides. Alex's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought off wave after wave. His ammo was running low, and his vision was starting to blur from the blood loss. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he pushed on, driven by sheer willpower.
Injured and cornered, Alex knew he wouldn't make it out alive. He took cover behind a crate, clutching the detonator. "For my brothers," he whispered, pressing the button. The night exploded in a blinding flash of light and sound as the supply depot erupted into flames.
The explosion was massive, shaking the ground and lighting up the night sky. The enemy's supplies were obliterated, and their morale shattered. Alex's sacrifice gave his brothers the advantage they needed to win the battle.
As the world faded around him, Alex's last thoughts were of his comrades, hoping they would live to see another day. "Maybe now... they'll have a chance."
Back at their base, the soldiers awoke to the sound of the distant explosion. They rushed to the perimeter, their eyes wide with shock and awe as they saw the flames lighting up the night sky. It didn't take long for them to realize what had happened. Alex's absence, the well-timed explosion, and the sudden chaos in the enemy camp—all pointed to one thing: Alex fought the enemies and somehow won them some chance.
David, his heart heavy with both sorrow and pride, rallied the soldiers. "He did it," he announced, his voice ringing out with a mix of relief and determination. "Alex gave us a chance."
The soldiers exchanged glances, their faces reflecting a myriad of emotions—grief for their fallen comrade, awe at his bravery, and renewed hope sparked by his sacrifice. They knew this was their moment to seize.
With a newfound resolve, they prepared to capitalize on the chaos Alex had created. They organized quickly, securing their defenses and planning their next moves. The enemy, thrown into disarray by the destruction of their supplies, would be vulnerable.
Hours passed as the soldiers waited anxiously, their anticipation growing with each passing minute. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, tension thick in the air. Finally, the first signs of dawn appeared on the horizon, casting a pale light over the battlefield.
As the sun rose, the soldiers launched their attack. They moved with precision and ferocity, catching the enemy off guard. The initial resistance was fierce, but the enemy, deprived of crucial resources and leadership, faltered.
The battle raged on throughout the day, each side fighting tooth and nail for control. The soldiers, fueled by the memory of Alex's sacrifice, fought with a determination that could not be quenched. They pushed forward relentlessly, inch by inch gaining ground.
By sunset, the enemy was in full retreat. The once formidable forces now scattered, their morale shattered. The soldiers, weary but victorious, stood amidst the aftermath of battle, their hearts heavy with the losses but buoyed by their triumph.
David surveyed the battlefield, his gaze lingering on the destruction wrought by the explosion. In that moment, he knew they had achieved something greater than just a tactical victory. They had honored Alex's memory and proven that even in the face of overwhelming odds, courage and unity could prevail.
As evening descended and the soldiers began to tend to the wounded and collect the fallen, a solemn air settled over the camp. They gathered around a makeshift memorial, honoring not only Alex but all those who had sacrificed for their cause.
"We owe him everything," David said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "He showed us what it means to fight for each other."
The soldiers nodded in silent agreement, their thoughts turning to the future. They knew the war was far from over, but with Alex's spirit guiding them, they faced the challenges ahead with renewed strength and purpose.
As they stood together, united in their grief and their determination, a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the horizon. The storm clouds that had loomed over them for so long were finally beginning to break, revealing a glimmer of hope in the clearing skies.
The soldiers looked up, their faces turned toward the future with resolve. They were not just soldiers anymore—they were brothers, bound by the legacy of a soldier's plea.