"Bring forth the tanks" -My Captain said as we marched forwards in muddy trails, metal hitting metal with loud noises. Yet another day in the war machine. The sound of artillery rumbles through the landscape like a building wave that speeds up just to die down as it falls flat on the beach side.
I've been away from home for a long time now.
"He said "Son, have you seen the world?"" A song lyric from Rise Against I often think about as we march, is this what war offers? It promises patroism and adventure but what comes with it leaves but a bitter taste of ash in my mouth.
At night I dream of my home in Halland, where the streams turn sharp and Brook trout splash in the water as I search for a fishing spot to try to hook one for the evening dinner. It is now June which means the smell of still lake water would fill my nostrils and the occasional mosquito would be my biggest problem.
Nowadays I can only dream about the lakes and streams back home while I march. The dreams keep me sane and the taste of trout dinner still exist in my library of memories.
A marching mercenary, that is how I survive for now as I feel strong winds hit my muddy face.
"Kites rise highest against the wind – not with it" -Winston Churchill