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The Soldier's Making

  • Category : Craft

“People say war is hell, but for some it was a moment, a moment to feel life, brotherhood and every single breath.”

He said, "Get down, brother."
I had a hard time understanding what he was saying because of all the noise.
"WHAT?" I yelled. WHAT!” He was telling me to get down at the same time.

He was bravely addressing the opposing front during this time. They were numerous like floodwaters, and our troop was down to its last few members.

Only three sounds were able to reach my ears at that moment: the heaviness of my breathing, the sound of shells hitting the ground, and the patriotic phrase

In support of fatherhood.

After sustained enemy shelling, I was abruptly seized by my shoulder and pulled down next to the sandbags.

Ah! My brother was watching over us as he had done every day since my childhood 

After that, we could see the adversaries getting closer while also hearing what sounded like a lion's roar as the rounds left the weapon.
I was shocked and traumatised by what I then witnessed as I felt blood, my brother's blood, dripping over my jacket.
Everything seemed to stop at that precise moment—there was no gunfire, cursing, shelling, or weapon recoil.

Retreat! Retreat! Retreat! There is a directive from our CO.

However, I was completely blank and out of it; commands were flying over my head.

My brother, who served as a father figure to me, was lying on the ground lifeless, and it was the only thing on my mind.

My soul was crushed, and I was destroyed.
Despite the fact that I knew the order, my legs were numb.

I witnessed my Captain running in my direction while yelling, "What the hell are you doing?" He approached me and violently shook me while yelling.

Over and over again, I was told to "move your fucking ass."

He began dragging me out of there after grabbing my jacket and belongings.

My Captain told me to stop resisting so and let go of my brother's backpack, "I have to bring my brother back," to which I yelled in response. "Den, he's gone, your brother's gone. If you really want to do something for him, then build up, remain strong, stand for the unit, the code, for yourself and for your brother, as that's what he believed in and sacrificed his life for," was his response.
This gave me the courage and reawakened the soldier that my brother had always wanted to see in me, and I once more stood up for my nation, my brother, and myself.

There is thunderclaps! After numerous heroic wins and heroism awards, I am standing in the middle of the tent, surrounded by my CO, my batchmates, my seniors, and a few media personnel.
They are clearly interested in learning more about my operations, bravery, victories, and medals based on the looks on their faces. Thus, they acted.

One question in particular struck my eye among the many others.
A war reporter posed the following query: "After you lost your brother, didn't you think of leaving the Army?"
There is a brief period of silence everywhere.

"The sight of my brother dying in front of my eyes left me with emotional imbalance and it was a life-changing experience that I never want to live again, and I never want anyone to endure the same as me," I respond. When my brother passed away, I realised what it was like to live and die for someone we held dear. This gave me the courage to live for my country, my brother, and my code, and to demonstrate to my brother that yes, I will be the soldier you always wanted me to be. My brother was the only person who stood as firmly as a rock for me throughout my entire life.

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