Thanks to Consulting Angel for beta reading!
I'm Patrick Wilson, a recruit of the great British army. Our detachment will battle for the glory of the motherland in Afghanistan, under the leadership of Major James Sholto. We have sworn to do our duty.
We arrived at camp this evening. Tomorrow, at dawn, we will go in our first battle.
The sun sets, the sky gets dark and I can taste the blood in the air. I see the Major and I can read the resolution on his face. An order to fight has been giving. All that remains is for it to be spoken.
I don't see the future. I can't see unreal things. A soldier's affair is obeying the commander. We are soldiers.
I'm not afraid to die. We can't be afraid of inevitable, nor of the avoidable. Soldiers mustn't be afraid.
Anyway, I don't have time for this rubbish.
The camp, the tent, the sleeping-bag. I look at the cloth over me and imagine that there are stars on it. Another moment, and they are shining.
In the night, the stars ring quietly. The Great Bear I've seen at home is tuned to a marvellous beautiful chord. Here, in the south, stars are brighter and their sound is louder and, I guess, higher. I don't know local constellations and they don't know me but they don't stop telling about the things that will be.
I am all ears because they don't speak a word about me.
Actually, I am sleeping. The more I think about home, the more I can be sure it's a dream. When I'm awake I have no time to think and nothing to think about. Not even God. Our commander is our God, and no one else.
SOS. "Save Our Souls".
I have nobody to pray to.
The sky gets lighter, the bloody sun rises. But with its rays the calm wind comes, making my anxiety disappear. It will take us home...
I'm Patrick Wilson, and I am not.