Platoon 15.

Chapter One.

I was in shock. I was feeling a whole concoction of emotions at that moment. Time stood still, tears rolling down my rosy cheeks, for both joy and sorrow. My brother walked through the door that day bearing news. He had been accepted to join his fellow soldiers on a tour to Afhghanistan. I stood there, infront of him, looking at him thinking it could quite possibly be the last time I ever saw him alive again. I was happy for him because this was all he ever dreamt of. He wanted to do everything and anything he could for his country. I looked up to him for that. He was such a noble person, he showed no fear and always comforted me in my times of need. This is why I couldn't bare to think of him in such a horrible place.
I spent that night crying myself to sleep with the worst possible thoughts rushing around my head. No matter how much I tried to push the thoughts away, they always seemed to float back in. Some how I managed to get a few hours of sleep. When I awoke, I could hear the sound of my mother sobbing and my Brother trying to comfort her. I got up and walked downstairs to find my mother hugging James on the sofa, her eyes red and puffy. I wandered over to James and just stood there and looked at him. "I'll miss you so much" I managed to stutter. "I'll miss you too Marie, I'll think of you every night and no matter how bad the conditions are, I'm sure the thought of you and mum will brighten it up!" He replied, his voice unsteady and quiet. At this point I was crying again, my eyes stung from crying so much. I'd have done anything to make him stay. We spent that night as a family, reminiscing over our past adventures we had together and about school. We stayed up late together, we all wanted to spend as much time as we could with eachother before James had to be deployed.

Chapter Two.

That week went so fast, one minuet we were all sitting on the sofa together and the next me and my mother were standing at the army base, trying to savour our last few minuets together as a family. None of us knew whether we'd see James again. "Time to go boys!" A voice echoed accross the base. "Looks like that's my que to leave, Marie, you be good and take care of mum, and both of you, just remember I love you and I'll do my absolute best to return to you in one piece!" James said. He tried to joke about it but he had tears in his eyes. I flung my arms around his neck. I didn't ever want to let go. My mum pulled me away, "Come on Marie, we don't want to make him late. James, be careful, I love you so much hunny." She kissed him on the cheek, hugged him tight and stepped back. James picked up his bags and turned towards the plane. He started walking. As soon as he got to the top of the steps leading to the plane, he looked back and mimed, "I love you, be safe!" I collapsed in my mothers arms, I couldn't take it seeing my brother leave.
That night was another sleepless night, I thought about James every second of it. I could hear my mother in the next room sobbing and praying that he'd be alright. I couldn't help feeling this was my fault, as I was the one who suggested joining cadets to him. If he wouldn't have joined, he might not have joined the army and then later be deployed to Afghanistan. I felt responsible for my brothers life. I felt responsible for my mothers sorrow. I was responsible for it all.
The next morning me and my mother sat in silence as we ate our breakfast. Cornflakes, James' favourite. I tried to not make eye contact with my mother, I couldn't see her upset. The sound of the television in the front room was all I could hear. "Are you finished darling?" My mother spoke. Any words to break the silence. "Yes thanks mum. Want me to wash those?" I pointed at the dishes she held in her hand. "No thanks, I'll manage" She walked off into the kitchen and started washing them. I wandered into the front room and opened the curtains. Light filled the room but there was still a sense of darkness lingering. I couldn't help thinking that if James was here we'd all be laughing and joking around, like we did every morning. James was a funny lad, he was classed as the joker of the class back when he was in secondry school. The teachers told him off all the time but they couldn't hate a character such as my brother. He was good at his school work but he laughed and joked whilst he was doing it, putting others off around him. He loved to be the center of attention, that's what made him so love-able.
A little later that day the postman arrived and pushed an envolope through our door. "I'll get that mum" I walked accross to the front door and picked up what looked like a letter. It read on the front, "Miss Marie Mardy-Pants". I knew straight away who it was from! I teared open the envolope being careful not to rip the letter. I unfolded it, the handwriting confirmed who I thought it was from! James had wrote! It read:
Miss Marie Mardy-Pants!
I hope you and mum are alright and aren't missing me too much! I arrived in Afghanistan this morning and I sent this letter first class so it'd get to you as soon as possible! (how considerate of me!;-)) The base here isn't quite as equiped as the one back home but it's not as much of a state as your room! Haha, I miss you both, take care!
Love James x
P.s Stay out of my room!;-)
I was laughing and crying at the same time. How I wished he was here to call me Miss Marie Mardy-Pants in person! I took the letter through to my mother and she laughed. "Gee, I think he's missing us more that we're missing him! Writing to us within a day! Haha, anyway Marie, have you tidied your room?"
"Not yet..I'll do it now.."
"Good girl!"
I walked up to my room and flung everything that was out of place under my bed (like I usually did) and opened my window. Fresh air flooded into my room and the sound of the birds in the woods next to my house filled my ears. I felt at peace. Once I stayed in my room long enough for my mother to think I tidied it properly, I came out and headed downstairs. Half way to the stairs I noticed my brothers door was open. I glanced inside and on his bed I found his spare dog-tags he had. I snuck into the room trying to avoid any squeeky parts of the floor and snatched up his dog-tags and retreated back to my room. I hid them in my school bag and went back on my way downstairs. I sat for the rest of the night watching television with my mother for a change. Ususally I'd sit on my bed on my laptop all night and barely see anything of another person.
"Marie, time for bed now, you've got school in the morning!"
"Fine mum."
It was half past ten at night. I went upstairs and sat up in bed. I managed to get some decent sleep that night, luckily. I dreamt of my brother and his fellow platoon sat around joking and laughing. That put my mind at ease.
In the morning I got up and got ready for school. I set off earlier than I normally did so I could walk at a relaxed pace. For once I actually took in my surroundings and I felt lucky that I wasn't where my brother was. In no time I arrived at school. I got through the gates and went to go find my bestfriend Jodie. We walked around the first floor of the building chatting about irrelivant things. Eventually the school bell went. Time for six hours of education. woo.
The day went by slowly. All I could think of was getting home and seeing if I had recieved any post. I felt alone that day, usually I'd see my brother at lunch time as he'd wait for me outside the gates and go get fish and chips from a shop down the road with me. That'd happen every day. I thought how great it was that he'd rather spend his lunch time with me other than his friends. The last bell rang for the day and everyone rushed out of the building. I walked out of main reception looking around everywhere for James. Then I remembered he wouldn't be there to walk me home.
That week was so hard for me, it went by so slow. Things were starting to look up however, James wrote me everyday, I got to video call him at the weekend and I was starting to feel a little less lonely.

Chapter Three.

A few months went by and me and my mother were getting on just fine. It was as if James was there, brightening up the mood all the time. One morning me and my mum were eating our breakfast as usual, and we heard a knock at the door. My mother got up and went to see who it was. I continued to eat my breakfast and watch the news. "..and platoon 15 was caught in combat when a suprise attack from terrorists occured.." Platoon 15...that's James' platoon! I turned up the tv. "three soldiers were killed in the attack and two were injured. Corpral J. Kiddmann, Major G. Trevson and Major N. Farsway were killed in the attack and Sergent J. Thompson and Sergent L. Kelley were hospitalized.." JAMES! I rushed through to my mother at the front door. She collapsed crying. A man in a military uniform was standing at the door, uneasy. "Mum we've got to go see him!" My mother got up and in her hands were dog-tags with 'Sergent J. Thompson engraved on them. She also held a uniform stained with blood with bullet holes in them. "N-no..h-he's not...he c-can't be! James!"
I ran upstairs to my room and rumaged around my bag for James' dog-tags. I threw them over my head and at that very moment I vowed never to take them off. I ran into James' room and layed on his bed. I curled up with his pillow. It smelt of him. How could this have happened? James, of all people in his platoon, why did it have to be my brother? His pillow was wet with tears. I sat up and spotted one of his t-shirts on the floor. I put it on and enhaled the smell of his after-shave.
My mother came upstairs and held me tight. We spent that night crying together and reminiscing. I slept in James shirt. Scenarios of war kept rushing around my head. When will this sorrow go away?
James' funeral soon came around and everyone was crying and saying their sincerest apologies to me and my mother. They offered any help they could give but nothing could ease the pain of losing someone who was, and still is, so important to me.
As a great man once said, "If we don't end war, war will end us." ~ H. G. Wells

Sorry about your brother. My condolences. But we cannot end wars because we don't cause them. I am sure that if it weren't for people like your brother, we wil try to end wars by disarming, and then it will be true that war will end us and the democratic world. There is no solution to this. Freedom always took and will take blood.
H.G. Wells was from a generation that had a hope that was found to fail. We now have hope for the least possible number of casualties. That we are achieving thanks to the valor of people like James.

I assume you got some comfort from putting this into words - but there's nothing here for the uninvolved reader I'm afraid.

H

Thank you for your replies, they mean a lot, but it was just a fictional story of how I interpreted a person would feel in that situation, I should probably have mentioned that haha.

Thank you for reading. :)

Very touching story :'(

Thanks Nathan, I enjoyed writing it (:

Since yours fooly has been spending an inordinate amount of time responding to the works of others rather than writing on my own writing, I'm going to cut back a bit on the former. In order to strike a balance, my personal policy will be to comment mainly on those who have the courtesy of doing the same for my posts.

The plan is to try to treat the posts of the rest of my fellow LitNutters with the same approach taken by "real" editor: namely, if the writing doesn't "grab" me by the first paragraph, I'll stop reading. Click this.

I've read that a certain editor stops reading at the first cliché. In your opening paragraph, I found three of them: "time stood still," and the next two both in the same phrase: "tears rolling down my rosy cheeks": not only the hackneyed description of crying, but also the adjective "rosy."

Also, there's a glaring misspelling of Afghanistan.

So, back to the metaphorical "slush pile" with this one. Meanwhile, try to read a copious amount of short stories in order to get an idea of how good fiction writing is done.

Finally, if you do post again ( and I hope you do), please remember to skip a space between paragraphs; also, start a new paragraph with each change of speaker.

Thank you for your feedback, it's much appreciated, I apologize for the spelling mistakes and for using cliché phrases, also thank you for pointing out any mistakes I have made, I'll correct them. :)

I'm never concerned about spelling, grammar, or cliches. It's nothing that good editing can't resolve. But be careful about the theory of cliches. What responds negatively to a cliche is a cliche.

Haha :)