War Week.

It was April twenty second and I had just joined the military. I had nothing to lose. I had no friends, my girlfriend was a mess so I volunteered. I was going to die on the streets anyway, why not join the military. What were the chances of a war? When I went in I began to feel different. Almost like a horse in pain. I yearned to be home but this was it. This was my new life. Everything that I thought was dependable was not. This was hell. As soon as I got in, the base was under attack. Explosions everywhere. It was a disaster area, shrapnel, fire, alarms, dust, bodies laying on the ground with no life. I saw the men who were training with me running to get away from the attack. One didn't have an arm. I heard someone screaming as I looked over and saw one of the men I had been training with on the ground, he lost his leg and looked lifeless. I then saw a streaming rocket fly right past my ear and boom my ears started to ring. I didn't know what to do. I was only training, I wasn't even confirmed. The drill instructor came running into the platoon with rifles. He looked me in the eyes and all of the other recruits, "I want all of you little sissies and fuck offs to get your shit together right now! This is war and this isn't a place for pussies, take these guns and protect yourselves. You have no friends and if you thought you had a girl at home who loved you, forget about it. No body is going to wipe your ass and facebook isn't going to like you. It's kill or be killed. Do you little maggots understand me?" When I heard his ruthless chant I knew it was time. I knew what I had started could not be undone. I had to man up and put my life on the line for my country. I was not afraid of death. This was it. No more porn, no more momma's boy. I had no one to call. There was no time for prayer or Sunday service. No more parties or late nights with Teresa. I was in hell the first month of boot camp. Everything flashed before my eyes. All the freedom the people took for granted had begun a whole new conflict. I guess this is why we have to fight. I guess this is why war exist. People have to use the memories of war to remember what is most dear to them and cherish peace. After this  is done and if I survive. I pray that the people will never forget. I pray that they will remember. Oh god, will they remember? Will the flag still fly after this is over? Will we win? As I grab my weapon I get on one knee and start to shoot. I feel a hot shell graze my shoulder. I go for cover. I fall to the ground. Is there a God? I start to pray. Then I see the light. Where am I? Is it still war week? Reality sets in. Are we still fighting or am I dead?