The Lost Soldier

I remember it perfectly.
It was as hot as the sun.
It was my third tour in Iraq.
My squad was just assigned our next mission,
Our last mission

We got packed and headed out.
We drove to the outskirts of an abandoned town.
It was smoldering and smoking, ravaged by war.
The buildings were dead bodies, lying torn apart.
We walked the rest of the way on foot.

That’s when we found him.
He was just a boy.
He had an AK around his shoulder.
We knew he had to be Taliban.
He jumped out of his shoes when he saw us.
My friend raised his gun ready to pull the trigger.

I stopped him just in time.
The boy was obviously scared and lost.
I could not let him die.
We took his gun and showed him the way the way home.

We kept walking until we came to another town.
It looked like any other town here.
But it was quiet, too quiet.

Then everything changed.
Bang, Bang! The Taliban started firing.
We hid in a nearby house.
There was nowhere to go.
Bang, Bang! They kept firing.

Then a RPG came crashing through the window.
My life flashed before my eyes.
The building was torn apart,
Along with my squad.

My entire squad was killed.
I was lying in my blood.
A boy came to check on the damage.
It was the boy whose life I spared.
He saw me he knew I was alive.
But he turned and walked out.
He did not tell the others,
He did not finish me off,
He just left.

I was rescued hours later.
Was it fate that it was that boy that found me?
Or was it just chance that it was him?
I like to think it was fate,
And that if I did not spare his life.
He would not have been there to save mine.

By Jacob H. (2012)