-Army Dream-

A fresh, warm breeze rustles through the dry scrub. A deep, cloudless blue sky can be seen up through the foliage of gum trees. Birds call while sitting on lean branches. My army boots make a low scraping sound as they move across the orange clay and cream granite. We are restless in a dreamy kind of way. I see a shrub shake about fifty meters away across the dry creek bed. It is Tom in his position. Greg is probably also with him. Placed around this dry creek bed we lie in wait. The enemy should be here soon. I shift my weight on to my left side, placing my rifle on the clay.

Mike is probably closest to the actual creek bed. Not far from me. I move my legs again, trying to get comfortable. The standard issue army pants are getting the light coloured clay all over them. My stomach churns irritably. We are all anxious and a swarm of a thousand butterflies flutter in our collective stomachs. My shaking hand closes on the rifle to check it is ready and loaded. We have been waiting too long. It now seems to me that the enemy will never come this way. I am wrong. Greg's warning whistle rings out then becomes lost in the sound of the birds. The cold metal of my rifle is no comfort as I clutch it, trying to stop my shaking.

Shouts come not from the creek bed but above to the right near Tom and Greg. Loud, high-pitched shots ring out. The birds are no longer audible. I see the enemy and start shooting. Everything becomes chaotic. They can see where I am, so I hug the ground for cover. Bullets thud into clay and granite, I squint my eyes to stop debris getting in. Quickly I glance up to see that Mike has moved down, out of cover to the creek bed. Volleys of shots ring out, like thunder, into the deep blue sky. I wish to be up there in the peaceful blue infinite. Away... I glance up again in time to see a bullet whip through Mike's upper leg. He gives an unexpected little yelp and falls to the creek bed.

I start moving down towards the opening where Mike is lying with his wounded leg. I scramble and run, head down, trying to keep out of the way of the bullets. My rifle swings around on its strap, bumping into my stomach and side. I skid down next to Mike, grabbing his arms pushing and pulling him across the clay. Trying to get out of the open. I wince as I imagine the feeling of a bullet ripping through me. I still haul Mike up away from the creek bed. My boots scrape and slip on the dry clay and granite. Little pebbles and stones are dislodged, falling back to where we have just come. I push Mike up over some rocky cover. The rifle swings in front of me as I hoist myself up. I try to pull the gun out from under me as I roll over the edge. Whack, whack, whack, bullets rip though my chest and stomach. My rifle smokes as I slump beside Mike who looks and screams. I feel as if I am either swimming or floating. Mike rolls me over on my back. He can see my bright red blood oozing out from the holes. My imagined pain is now real. The gunfire seems to have ceased and I wonder if we have won. I take a breath of air and look up at the sky. The deep blue seems to go on forever and ever and ever.

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