Life (imitating Ernest Hemingway)

By M.D.

Today I woke up because of the pain in my spine. It reminded me those days when I was sent to France in 1918. I thought that I had a real life, but the first battle helped me to wake up from the dream, where I used to live. That was a reality of our existence. War. During only the first battle I was witness of the death of the man, who had told me a minute ago about his plans and his lonely mother. And then he was lying with a hole in his head.
I thought that I would never forget his face but then there were hundreds of such faces, covered with blood. That was real life. We slept in dirty, small and cold huts. We ate spoiled food and had almost nothing to drink. Every day was the continuation of the previous one. But one battle I will remember forever. We were told that our enemy would start an action at 11 am near the mountains. Our military leader explained us the plan of the attack. We thought that everything was checked and were waiting for the beginning of the attack. But something was wrong; unfortunately we understood it when we heard the sound of guns near us. That was a trap. My detachment was surrounded by the foe. And then was the bullet shower. But instead of water drops people were falling down on the wet soil. I was shocked and had only one thought – how could I escape from that hell? I understood that there was no meaning in attacking them because I would die. So I run but I was stopped by the bullet in my back, I thought that I died but I had fainted. Then I woke up in the hospital. I didn’t know how I survived and why. Then I was sent back home to US. Just after the month I read in the newspapers that the war was over. We won. That was good. But there was not even a word about us, people who died or lost health during the war. So I waited for the support from the government. It seemed that people just forget about us, veterans. They had forgotten about the war and behaved like it hadn’t happen. But it was. Thousands of people were killed. These people had plans for future, relatives, lovers, single mothers. They fought for something; at least I used to think so. But now I feel betrayed. And what’s even more, they sent us to Florida to spend the rest of our days here, in a small town. The only way here I can make for living is fishing. That’s why today I woke up at 5 am and was going to go to my boat. Yesterday I read in a newspaper that today the hurricane will approach our village. Here it is quite normal, because today is 15 October and it is the period of hurricanes. But that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t go fishing. So I went to the shore, where my boat was tightened. I rowed for twenty minutes and started fishing. Everything was as usual but only in a minute the weather has changed. The wind was so strong that it threw my boat from side to side. I thought that it was the end. And it was, but for others – for my neighbour in the village, for the waitress in a local bar, for hundreds of veterans just the same as me. And the government ignored that and visited our places when the period of hurricanes was over. They went fishing and enjoyed the view of the sandy beaches, where two months ago lied dead bodies.  But who cares? We should forget bad things because life is so beautiful, isn’t it?