Water? Food? Nothing to keep us hydrated or even keep our stomachs from growling...quiet not a sound in the vast desert. Mountains of the Afghanistan hide the enemy that move around like ghost...Fellow soldier "Mc Adams" a young 18 year old who just started when me and him ended up here. Lt. gave his orders: "Okay Annie (nickname of mine XD) we have to clear this little village you got that?" he said in a whisper, but I just nod to make sure he doesn't repeat himself. Master Corporal. Baker moved forward to the south ridge to lay down some cover fire. Silence for a while, but then the shuffling of the boots and gear was heard as me and Mc Adams rush forward to a empty house. I moved in first since Mc Adams was a little shook up from all this fear that was inside of him, so without hesitation I move into the homestead. Sharp pain in the right arm and leg got me thinking if I was dead or wounded, so then the sound of quick burst fire around me went muffled as if someone plugged my ears. L.T was looking down at me and started to drag me out of the skirmish and he was quite strong to run with me being dragged by him with all my gear. Steinbeck the medic, was actually there behind the wall away from the firefight that was going on...I pass out. I awoke in the medic tent with patches on my right arm and a well place bandage on my leg: "Doc? What happen?" I said with a weary voice. The Doc said: "Your alright but you won't be able to run for quite sometime and that is going to put you out of combat soldier". Shocked that I was going to head back home with just a medal and wounds: "You want to be reported on the news for Canada?" doc said writing on the clipboard. I shook my head in still the state of shock, but then L.T showed up: " Anaskan sorry to hear you about your wounds! Thank you for the help and hope to see you back in Canada soon." He said shaking my left hand. Salute then he walks out the tent never to be seen again by my eyes. "Honor Pride death!" I always said never wanted to return home as half a man, so I do return home but in grief and sadness of leaving the boys back in Afghanistan. I felt like I didn't do anything in war but get shot and so I was just a empty man trying to get back to civilian life. Nothing was working until I started to do my art again and finally after a few months of gloom I was back on my feet.


Anyway this was one of my journals I wrote: I know not good grammer or writing skills but you can't good english skills as a Grunt! Feel free to comment on my bad grammer or story your choice just wanted to share my last journal in Afghanistan