{"id":2999,"date":"2015-01-19T08:23:09","date_gmt":"2015-01-19T08:23:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.longkeshinsideout.co.uk\/?p=2999"},"modified":"2015-01-19T08:23:09","modified_gmt":"2015-01-19T08:23:09","slug":"remember-my-name-a-short-story","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.longkeshinsideout.co.uk\/?p=2999","title":{"rendered":"Remember My Name: A Short Story"},"content":{"rendered":"

Remember My Name.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

We are patrolling outside Gereshk. \u00a0\u00a0You may know\u00a0 the place. \u00a0Helmand province. \u00a0In sunny Afghanistan. It is hot – very hot. I am a long way from home. I miss the family, the children, the fun. But I joined up of my own free will. This is my job. My duty. This is for my country. We walk in a straight line at the side of the road. If you could call it a road. Dirt track more like.\u00a0 I cradle my rifle in my arms. It looks causal but we are always on alert. We are very visible which is risky but we have back up if we need it. We watch for ambushes and hints of the enemy. This particular place is a hot spot , plenty of action. I always dreamed of the action, wanted it so badly that until my first fire fight.\u00a0 Then it was a case of I wish I had a deeper hole to hide in. \u00a0Any soldier will tell you. The hours and days of boredom, repetitive tasks, \u00a0tedious patrols. Then \u00a0bang. It all goes haywire. Contact with the enemy. Heart in throat. \u00a0Adrenaline. When minutes are like hours. The thing that really worries me is the ambush.\u00a0 No warning. No signs. No chance to fight back.<\/p>\n

And today it happens. It is a pure blue sky above. Its mid-afternoon. \u00a0Just a usual patrol. I hear the soft whistling sound but we all react too late.\u00a0 A massive explosion tears the air, raises a huge cloud of dust,\u00a0 bodies are thrown to the ground. Me included.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Bullets start flying kicking up dirt. I don\u2019t care. Im lying on my side and I can\u2019t move. I see things but I cant hear. Im know I\u2019m hurt but strangely there is no pain. A total numbness. \u00a0I think, \u00a0\u2018where\u2019s my rifle\u2019,\u00a0 when I need it. But I can\u2019t move my arms or legs.\u00a0 I am then aware I\u2019m being dragged from behind. I dragged behind a small mud brick wall. Some shelter at least. I suddenly feel cold but the sun beats down on my face.\u00a0 My hearing is returning. I can hear the phut of bullets digging into soil and mud. There is a lot of shouting. Some screaming. I look up into the face of my best friend. He looks shocked. I can\u2019t believe it. He\u2019s crying. I know what\u2019s happening here. My war is over. I recall the first time I seen the aftermath of an explosion.\u00a0 Bodies blown apart. I wanted to cry and be sick. \u00a0I want to say to him \u2018Tell me the truth\u2019, \u00a0\u2018Is it bad\u2019, but my mouth doesn\u2019t seem to work either. \u00a0I just want to close my eyes and sleep.<\/p>\n

I think back to my childhood days. Warm summer days playing hide and seek with my brothers and sister.\u00a0 Then my own children.\u00a0 My son,\u00a0 my little man. Carrying him on my shoulders.\u00a0 Laughing.\u00a0 And my daughter.\u00a0 My beautiful daughter who got all her good looks from her mother.\u00a0 As my wife always told me with a smile.\u00a0 I am so sad. And much colder now. I know I won\u2019t be seeing them again. Ever. How will they cope? How will my children grow up? Will they remember me with fondness?\u00a0 And my elderly parents.\u00a0 Just one more time to say I love them dearly?\u00a0 Too late. Far too late. I think it strange, \u00a0that its getting dark. It\u2019s not night time yet.\u00a0 I hope someone remembers me when this war is over. Im only 28 years old.\u00a0 Like so many others.<\/p>\n

Remember my name.<\/p>\n

Khan Fawad Shinwari.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

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