Chapter 6: Nightmare
Christopher Robin was lying in bed one day thinking about his future. A couple of days ago he registered for classes at the local community college and wondered where he could find a job. It had been several months since he had came home and the world seems to grow darker every minute. Gone was the innocent-boy-next-door and in its place was a gloomy, isolated young man. He still had nightmares and couldn't bring himself to tell anyone. No one knew of his suffering. Frustrated he got up and decided to do something to keep him occupied. Though his war wounds bothered him he remained active doing chores and playing basketball. It was the only thing that kept his sanity. As he walked to the door his leg suddenly stiffen and he stumbled into his desk. Cursing, he got up and gathered some papers that had fell from the desk. As he picked up the papers he saw that they were a number of drawings he made during his childhood. All of them were of the residences of the Hundred-Acre Wood. He shifted through the papers reminiscing of the time he spent in the Wood with his friends. He remembered when he was a teenager that he would tell them of his crushes, homework and many problems he had, mainly because he was too embarrassed of his problems to anyone else. If he said something in the Wood it would remain in the Wood. Then it hit him, talk to the guys in the Wood about what happen in Iraq. They might have trouble understanding, but they will listen. The next day Christopher Robin walked up the all-to-familiar path that led into the Hundred-Acre Wood. Walking, however, proved a bit strenuous for the veteran. Though able to walk without crutches Christopher Robin still had difficulty walking or running great distances and was still undergoing physical rehabilitation. After a while Christopher decided to rest under a tree. It was a sunny, but cool March day, a good day to be outside. Soon the tired Christopher fell asleep. No sooner did the nightmare started. Everything went back to the ambush that October day.
********************************************************* He was sitting in the front passenger seat next to Joe who was driving. "Keep an eye out for trouble," said Christopher to his squad members. "Sarge, you are being too paranoid," said Joe as he drove down one of Baghdad's streets, "These people are happy that we got rid of Saddam. They are just ticked there are armed soldiers from another country on the streets and that they have practically no government." "Thanks for the comfort," said Private Jones from the back seat as everyone chuckled at his retort. Joe's comments always sounded a mix of optimism and sarcasm. "Just look out, OK,' said Christopher, "Trouble could be around the corner." As if on cue, humvee turn a corner and suddenly they saw a parcel thrown at their vehicle. "HALT!" shouted Christopher, but it was too late. The parcel landed in front of them and exploded. BOOM! The humvee turned into a tangle of blacken, smoldering metal. Christopher felt a surge of heat and was thrown out of the vehicle. He was knocked out but regain consciousness seconds later. He was covered in blood from wounds inflicted by shrapnel and pieces from the humvee. His body armor protected him from being seriously injured, but he still was in great pain. Just then he heard moaning from behind him and realized that his squad mates were still in the humvee. Half limping, half-crawling, Christopher reached the burning ruins and begun to drag his comrades despite his own wounds. He dragged the last man to the side of the road when he saw it was Joe. He was seriously injured and probably not going to live. Realizing this Christopher tried to comfort him but broke out crying. Joe smiled and said, "Hey Sarge, don't worry. It's an occupational hazard. All part of the job." He then fell silent. He was dead. Christopher began to shake the body of his fallen comrade and yelling his name, but it was no use. Christopher began to cry still muttering his comrade's name as another humvee drove up.
****************************************************************** Back in the Hundred-Acre Wood Christopher was yelling and shaking, the noise echoed throughout the Wood and reached the ears of a fluff-filled bear.
Christopher Robin was lying in bed one day thinking about his future. A couple of days ago he registered for classes at the local community college and wondered where he could find a job. It had been several months since he had came home and the world seems to grow darker every minute. Gone was the innocent-boy-next-door and in its place was a gloomy, isolated young man. He still had nightmares and couldn't bring himself to tell anyone. No one knew of his suffering. Frustrated he got up and decided to do something to keep him occupied. Though his war wounds bothered him he remained active doing chores and playing basketball. It was the only thing that kept his sanity. As he walked to the door his leg suddenly stiffen and he stumbled into his desk. Cursing, he got up and gathered some papers that had fell from the desk. As he picked up the papers he saw that they were a number of drawings he made during his childhood. All of them were of the residences of the Hundred-Acre Wood. He shifted through the papers reminiscing of the time he spent in the Wood with his friends. He remembered when he was a teenager that he would tell them of his crushes, homework and many problems he had, mainly because he was too embarrassed of his problems to anyone else. If he said something in the Wood it would remain in the Wood. Then it hit him, talk to the guys in the Wood about what happen in Iraq. They might have trouble understanding, but they will listen. The next day Christopher Robin walked up the all-to-familiar path that led into the Hundred-Acre Wood. Walking, however, proved a bit strenuous for the veteran. Though able to walk without crutches Christopher Robin still had difficulty walking or running great distances and was still undergoing physical rehabilitation. After a while Christopher decided to rest under a tree. It was a sunny, but cool March day, a good day to be outside. Soon the tired Christopher fell asleep. No sooner did the nightmare started. Everything went back to the ambush that October day.
********************************************************* He was sitting in the front passenger seat next to Joe who was driving. "Keep an eye out for trouble," said Christopher to his squad members. "Sarge, you are being too paranoid," said Joe as he drove down one of Baghdad's streets, "These people are happy that we got rid of Saddam. They are just ticked there are armed soldiers from another country on the streets and that they have practically no government." "Thanks for the comfort," said Private Jones from the back seat as everyone chuckled at his retort. Joe's comments always sounded a mix of optimism and sarcasm. "Just look out, OK,' said Christopher, "Trouble could be around the corner." As if on cue, humvee turn a corner and suddenly they saw a parcel thrown at their vehicle. "HALT!" shouted Christopher, but it was too late. The parcel landed in front of them and exploded. BOOM! The humvee turned into a tangle of blacken, smoldering metal. Christopher felt a surge of heat and was thrown out of the vehicle. He was knocked out but regain consciousness seconds later. He was covered in blood from wounds inflicted by shrapnel and pieces from the humvee. His body armor protected him from being seriously injured, but he still was in great pain. Just then he heard moaning from behind him and realized that his squad mates were still in the humvee. Half limping, half-crawling, Christopher reached the burning ruins and begun to drag his comrades despite his own wounds. He dragged the last man to the side of the road when he saw it was Joe. He was seriously injured and probably not going to live. Realizing this Christopher tried to comfort him but broke out crying. Joe smiled and said, "Hey Sarge, don't worry. It's an occupational hazard. All part of the job." He then fell silent. He was dead. Christopher began to shake the body of his fallen comrade and yelling his name, but it was no use. Christopher began to cry still muttering his comrade's name as another humvee drove up.
****************************************************************** Back in the Hundred-Acre Wood Christopher was yelling and shaking, the noise echoed throughout the Wood and reached the ears of a fluff-filled bear.