What is Courage?

Written in response to: Write a story where fortune doesn’t favor the brave.... view prompt

0 comments

Coming of Age Contemporary Fiction

I used to think Heroism was something to shoot for. To be recognized for outstanding achievement. To succeed where others fail. The way my parents would describe it, or when I looked it up on the internet one day, I thought it was difficult but also achievable. With experience and patience, I truly believed that I could attain that in my life. Unfortunately, the fates agreed to unmask the irony pulled over my eyes at the worst possible time. 

*

"Everybody get down!" I said as another shell hit the roof next door. The dust filled the streets, thick as the ocean, and as irritating as getting an insect in your eye. Fortunately, me and my unit I wore goggles with our helmets and we sustained only small scratches on its plastic. But we were in a much more concerning situation. 

Ducking out of the front door, I noticed our roof was already ablaze, like submerged wavy hair, with one section already falling in on itself. Not unlike me, I thought. Quickly I was thinking of a way to escape to join the others, but before I did, another helicopter roared at me, dangerously overhead. 

*

The noise of the roaring helicopter seemed not foreign but merciless the first time I arrived at camp. I had just come off the bus as I marched into line with the rest.

Make no mistake, I thought, I'm still going to fry. I had the weakest face among the men here, and it made me feel all the more out of place. After we threw our bags onto the beds and were introduced, actually threatened, by our commanding officer. I waited a moment before walking to the door of the building. I watched the other units in batches, a jeep zipping along the wide field towards the rest of the sleeping vehicles, and 2 or 3 officers overseeing their enormous clock. Or at least that's what they were probably thinking or talking about together. What other purpose could a conversation have other than pride or stratification here? 

I knew I didn't want to be here. Presumably everyone here, given the chance, would have backed out, but something was different for me. I couldn't tell what it was, but the moment when I pleaded to the officers, and to a greater extent my parents, the moment when I shit my pants sitting on the ease inviting seat in my warm coat, and all the moments I wanted to die before seemed to neutralize. 

This was an awakening, a realization, that I had not come to detect amidst the mountain of thoughts, concerns, and questions that bloated the vaults of my mind which could blow at any minute. 

Despite the ever strong refutes of these ideas, it was something I would never forget. Ever. 

*

That was 2 years ago. 2 years ago I began trudging through the dusty, muddy, and sometimes topographical roads for training, occasionally having to endure the elements of the Sahara and Amazon in the same week, and stretching on to nothingness. 

But that was not how I hoped it would be. Obeying my commander and operating within my authorized boundaries had served me well. I saw this punishment thrust upon me not as my fate, but as the chance to grow into who I wanted to be. ‘You have a good heart. You have such a capacity of master choice. No matter what you do with it, you will be the best.’ My father would say to me. ‘I know it.’ As a child, I would always wait by the door, or the window, circle around opportunities my entire childhood, perched on my bedroom chair, unsure of my capabilities or what I could use them for. But my father’s words always goaded me into evolving beyond a bird, beyond an observer. 

2 years later, I stood overlooking the base. I had become what my father promised. Every time I and the men would wake up, I was first. Every time we trained and surpassed obstacles, I would eventually climb the ladder first. My dad used to also tell me that nothing was ever achieved without enthusiasm, and despite my initial encounter with the corp, and my new family, the years began to leave me with a new understanding. It was this understanding that eventually lead to my promotion and command of my own regiment. I was climbing not just a ladder, but a monument to reach the not an attic, but a gem. Worthiness.

That was my silent reminiscence as I leaned against the flagpole, staring out at the restless lights on the buildings, as the last light of the setting sun peeled off my eyes. 

*

It all came together as I readied myself for war. I could see that this was our turf and the airships were randomly bombing soldiers and buildings. They didn’t know the precise location of the leading officers. As I saw some of our own jets take off for our own parry, I knew we had to get to our defenses. Making my way out of the porch and into the dust track splitting the field, I identified our artillery and transportation, just next to the headquarters of the field. Make it through the hurricane, and we might just save ourselves as well as the officers. 

BOOM!, another explosion flipped my switch from contemplation to panic. I feared looking back at what it sounded like or its magnitude. But I could tell it was several feet away as I scrambled to meet the others back at the door.

My troops thought it was suicide. They said we only had machine guns in hand, with one minion and the rocket launchers were already taken by other soldiers. Probably emptied by now. But there were still more just 100 yards away. 

I considered what they were saying, but clearly, there was something lurking in our presence that defied logic. A low tone in my head whispered across all the calamity and fireworks that illuminated the spade-smoked sky. It told me this was my chance to lead them to victory. Being the officer among them, I ordered them to accompany me close by as we made our way out. Some choose to remain here, defying my orders, cowering. Cursing them, I took the few that did follow me and prepared to face the music. 

We had crossed the first road lining what remained of the cabins behind us, and the object of desire came into crystal view. As gunshots sounded and more explosions sang on the field, the men scrambled away, hiding under debris or sprinting with all their might towards moving jeeps. Better than anything seen in training. 

“Come back! We’re Going to make it! We’re…” I didn’t hear the explosion. I didn’t even have time to see what caused it, a bomb or a plane. I couldn’t hear a sound. The world fell black. 

March 05, 2022 04:15

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

0 comments

RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

Bring your short stories to life

Fuse character, story, and conflict with tools in Reedsy Studio. 100% free.