I'm Coming Home

Afghanistan. It's that one word that will make your skin crawl thinking of the war currently going on. The soldiers dying everyday and the families left behind. My name is Sergant Joshua Kendall. My alluring, beautiful, elegant, angelic wife was one of the many young ladies out there, who us soldiers had to leave in the summer of 2009. It's not 2013. There's no sign of return.

Everyday is a struggle, you have no friends. Every friend you make, will die. It sounds a little far fetched doesn't it, but only the lucky ones survive, and how are you supposed to know if they're going to die or not. I had a friend once, he was hanged, no more than a solitary figure hanging there. Lifeless. There were useful soldiers, frightened soldiers, injured soldiers, happy soldiers, crazy soldiers and then there was Jerry. Jerry was the slow one, he'd usually dawdle behind everyone because his eye was gouged out by a dirty Afghan. He can't always see where he's going. Jerry and I call eachother accquaintances because we're too scared to become friends.

Suddenly, my name had been shouted. I was shivering. I knew it was my turn next, my job today was to walk through Hatsamoa Town and see if there was any funny business going on. The people that were usually doing wrong would give you a look of menice as you walke past. As I marched through the town on the dirty rock hard ground, I heard someone fire a shot from behind. Silence. Suddenly it hit me, that tense and ominous silence. I was stood as still as a post, waiting. Just waiting.