One Last Breath

Ryan Harris
1-29-10
Irony

Deception, treachery, as the once elegant world turns on me, while the aspect of hopelessness unfolds in front of me as I only helplessly watch. I lay, I wait forlorn and futile. The sun still holds up and the moon always raises at night, but I will never quite recover, never forgive. Those dark moments that changed my unrealistic aspect of humanity.
I, one of five survivors, wait in the tranquil mist for extraction, but the aftermath scarred me. A five percent survival rate. One in 13 men would survive, but why me? Most would consider it a privilege, but I considered it a curse suffering this memory the rest of my life. I was shadowed by depression.
It was now five days since the contact with the Devils on Okinawa the other four men I had company with were either dead or dying, except for one. His name was Ben. Raised in Brooklyn and stationed in my battalion after Pearl Harbor. We were survivors stranded in a chaotic environment running low on supplies. We both knew it was coming anticipating another ambush, but not knowing when was dire. Desperate to get out I knew when the time was right it would come. I remember him saying to me. “Aaron I don wanna die.” I assured him, but I knew he wasn’t comfortable as the devastating truth was revealed in my eyes. Nightfall was as short as hours away, but an elegant sunrise cast upon me and my companion. This I considered the best time of the days spent here, however still shadowed in the back of my head was that disturbing question. Will I die? Is this my last sunrise? It was finally dark, I didn’t have a watch, but I could tell it was past midnight. My eyes grew weary, for I had spent the previous hour or so scanning the horizons for hostiles. I revealed movement in a nearby path. I couldn’t quite distinguish it, but that didn’t stop my adrenaline. Ben was still asleep; apprehensive considering he may give away our position, I quickly decided to let him be. I buried myself in a nearby ditch overlooking the path and camouflaged by bushes. I counted my rounds as the single hostile approached, quickly without hesitation I squeezed the trigger whoever he was, he went down fast. I slowly approached the corpse with caution. That was the moment I discovered the horrid truth. I pulled his dog collar and on it was written Private First Class Louis Twain, he died at the age of 19. I searched his pockets and discovered a small photograph of a woman and her child. I pushed my mouth to the ground and began to sob. Careful not to alert any others who may be near.
I wake in morning feeling no different, I am still torn by the devastating action and sure I will never quite recover. Ben wasn’t anywhere in sight, but I was sure He had just departed in search of food. At noon he still hadn’t returned, but my regrets hadn’t either. All sorts of accusations ran through my head, only hurting me more. During mid afternoon I decided to search for him. Hours passed and more depression began to build. Anger and outrage built up in me, as I engaged further and further into the wilderness. Near morning I sight a complex in the distance. It appeared to me a Japanese complex, so I continued towards it. Closer and closer I embark towards it adrenaline rushing through me. In the middle of the camp lay a corpse abandoned and desolated. Rage surged through me I screamed, aware I no longer belonged in this bitter world. I ran never stopping, never looking back, as tears drew from my eyes. Miserable I fall and carry through with what I would have never anticipated, one last applaud to the earth that was once my greatest ally, one last round in my weapon, and one last breath.
I’m never able to accept or endure these treacherous moments, as in the end humanity is the beast that ends me. Yes I understand everything, but It still won’t change. When I pulled that trigger I realized what I had done, but I also discovered the true training wasn’t to act, but to accept my past and my history, because I had layed in bed every night, wondering when my time would come, when the true light would recover and gaze upon me. As the physiological battle slowly killed me. I didn’t even realize what I had until it was all gone. So whoever may be given the privilege to read this note please understand the dire concept of war in honor of those who served and died. This was my odyssey, but what’s yours?