Here is the version I turned in to class. I apologize if thoughts aren't in italics, as they were from the start, I'm just not sure how to copy the format over here from word. The two questions I'd like you to think about are:
-Is the main character ok?
-should the ending be changed? (I have a different one in mind)
33 by 65
I have always wanted to join the army. Even as I lay here on the warm and dusty ground with the sun beating down on me, struggling to breathe, I knew that I had made the right decision. I arched my neck, hoping to see anything beyond the sea of tan colored soil and rock that stretched out before me, seemingly endlessly.
Damn it. There was nothing; and no sign of any kind of rescue, no sign of damnation on the horizon. There were just the dead bodies of all who had just fought in this battle. My head collapsed onto the hard ground with a thud, and, as I attempted to settle myself, the sound of the pebbles on the ground rang through my ears. Are these pebbles the last thing I’m going to hear? I wondered. I looked down at my chest, seeing the wound that would undoubtedly do me in. If I had just been one second faster, one step ahead… None of it mattered anymore. Glancing up at the sky, the vibrant blue color struck me strangely. Why did I have to die on a day like today? I closed my eyes slowly, accepting that I had done everything that I could, and that this was simply the end. It happened to everyone.
As the sounds and feelings of the world began to leave me behind, I thought that I heard the crunch of boots on soil from behind me.
It was nearly two years ago, when I had first enlisted; four years after the war had started on the day that was supposed to end the world. I guess it really was for some. December 21, 2012. The Apocalypse Day of mankind; the end of the world. That’s when tragedy struck. The United States of America was attacked in an unexpected assault on its east coast. Boston was completely destroyed in an atomic explosion. It was the worst terrorist attack in our nation’s history. In the days following we discovered a little too late that the Middle Eastern countries felt the United States had overstayed their welcome, and wanted us gone. Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia had for some reason allied together to try and eradicate us completely. Naturally, the rest of the world wasn’t really ok with this, so the United Kingdom, Australia, Russia, and Spain had come to our aid. War had broken out on the other side of the world, as well. North Korea had literally bombed South Korea into submission, and became a military dictatorship, known only as The Republic of Korea. I would be later told that putting the word Republic was simply an attempt to put a blanket over everything, as if the world didn’t know already.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end. As troops from the Middle Eastern Alliance began their assault on America, they gained more and more allies. The newly formed Republic of Korea had agreed on an alliance, and they began the invasion of Japan, which brought them into the war. The Asian hostility increased when China invaded India, with the purpose of controlling the entirety of Asia by the end of the fighting. The Allied forces were fighting the MEA (Middle Eastern-Asian) Federation.
World War III had begun.
The night before I was due to leave for boot camp at Ft. Knox, nearly two weeks after the war had started, my parents sat me down and tried to have a serious family discussion about my decision. We all knew that soldiers from all countries involved were dying every day. We all knew that my chances of survival past two months in action were slim. None of it mattered to me. I knew that this was my calling, and they knew it too. The days I spend as a kid playing ‘war’ in the sandbox; the time I spent as an adolescent working out for the purpose of being in top condition as they required; now was the time it would all come to fruition.
“It’s suicide,” they told me.
“What about your future?” they asked me.
“Mom, Dad,” I began. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. This is my future.” I finished, both the stern look in my eyes, and the sinking in theirs allowed us both to know that this was the way it was going to be. On my last night in my house, I fell asleep to the muffled sounds of my mother crying.
As I pulled over in my car at the entrance to Boot Camp and retrieved my one bag’s worth of belongings out from the passenger seat, I tossed the keys to my old ’05 Ford Explorer to a passerby, and uttered only two words,
“Take it.”
It’s not like I was going to need it anymore. Hell, if I made it back to drive this car again, I’d happily buy a new one; the war would be over.
Boot Camp nowadays isn’t what it was like during the war in Iraq a few years ago, it was a much quicker process. With the threat the updated technology of our enemy presented, we needed as many soldiers out there as we could. As long as they knew how to shoot a gun, throw a grenade, and generally just not kill each other, they were good enough for infantry. Of course, specialized soldiers, such as the tech and air support, and rangers took more than just a few weeks. They would be here, amongst the trees and grasslands of the Fort for at least a few months, perfecting their skills. I followed the rest of the new recruits up the stone steps, and into what appeared to be the entrance hall. The ceiling must have been fifty feet high, supported by six individual pillars made of white marble. The floor, also made of marble, seemed to reflect the army. The entrance was bright and polished, like the new recruits. However, as you progressed to your destination, the maintenance was not done as often or as well, and the floor became scuffed, dirty, and generally bleak, like the army once you were in the thick of battle.
Making our way to the designated room, we all took seats in folding chairs, for a presentation that was set to begin. A sergeant came into the room, and surprisingly enough wasn’t yelling extremely loudly like me, and at least a few others expected him to. He did however; introduce himself as Sgt. Locke, 1st class.
“I’m to brief you on the army, because I doubt many of you really know much about the army, aside from playing your little video games. War isn’t a game, people. It’s real life. You will see blood. You will see death. You will have to kill other people. Boot camp is a grueling, terrible process. It will push your mental and physical limits. If you don’t think you can handle this, I’m giving you one last chance to back out. No one will be mad; all you need to do is say the word.”
One skinny little man, couldn’t have been older than twenty, got up and quickly left the room. Heh, he must’ve wanted to reenact call of duty in real life. Didn’t understand the consequences of war. With the boom of Locke’s voice, we all jumped out of our seats.
“Finally! All the bullshit is done with! All of you stand up! NOW! That is your first order!” he roared.
Jesus, what happened to the nice guy who we just met? My questions would be answered promptly.
“That entire nice guy shit? Just formality. This is who you’re going to be seeing for the next few weeks, so you better get used to it. This is what the army is all about. Toughness. If you can’t handle me, you’re sure as hell not going to make it through to the Middle East. Now, everyone head to the bunks and drop your stuff. You have tonight off, you better savor it. Your last night as free men. Starting tomorrow at o-five hundred, you’re all under my control. GET GOING!” he finished, severely raising the intimidation he had struck into those around me. I personally had half expected this from the start, so I wasn’t too concerned. As long as I did it everything I was supposed to, and did it well, I’d make it out of here alive.
The weeks progressed slowly, doing everything pretty much the same everyday, the S.S.D.D., as it was called ‘round here. The physical aspects were tedious. Running, lifting weights and hand to hand combat was our bi-daily schedule, the other days being the mental tasks of deciphering codes, and assembling and disassembling weaponry which often made my head hurt by the end of the day. Despite how miserable we all during these challenges, I always pushed myself to be in the front of the pack, and always help the stragglers finish. Eventually, it was the end of my tenure here, and I was destined to leave for Afghanistan. Before I left, Sgt. Locke pulled me aside.
“Son, you’re a real army man. I’ve got faith that you’ll pull these others through when the time comes.”
“Sir?”
“Just trust me. When the time comes for you to take command, you’ll do our country and your platoon proud.” And with that, he gave me a pat on the back and sent me on my way.
Afghanistan was not the place I expected it to be. It was a decimated war zone. The base camp we were sent to was in terrible condition. Wounded everywhere and supplies were running dangerously low. Luckily, when we were deployed, we were airdropped supplies and ammo, much to the relief of Captain Silverman, a man in his late thirties. His hair had turned gray with the stress of war, and he had many scars scattered throughout his torso and face. Upon our arrival at about 15:35 local time, we were immediately sent on a scouting mission, our leading officer to be Corporal Mather, who didn’t seem to be too confident in his leading abilities. I was informed from one of the privates that he had only recently been promoted because he had survived the longest; all his other comrades had died.
After traveling east the rest of the day, we set up camp once nightfall had struck. An initial search of the perimeter showed no signs of enemy activity, but shifts were taken through out the night to make sure that nothing happened. The night was uneventful, but I was awoken by my fellow privates to stunning news - Cpl. Mather was dying. He had left early in the morning to scout the area. He had been shot, and it was only when others had gone to look for him they discovered him, bleeding out on the ground.
I ran out to hear the last words he would speak. Kneeling by him, he kept repeating the same three words, over and over a gain in raspy, hushed tone that was his last attempt to communicate. “33 by 65.” He said. No one had any kind of clue as to what it might mean.
“Which direction did he go?” I inquired to the group. We have to investigate. There’s got to be something around there that will help us figure this out.
With the general census being the east, I gathered the rest of the troops and told them what we were doing. Now, I was just a private myself, but someone had to lead these troops. We got into the trucks and headed out. As we traveled across the barren desert climate of Afghan, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. After we had traveled for about twenty minutes, we pulled over, and began to investigate.
But then, suddenly, Pvt Ramirez, who was examining the area to the east, was shot dead.
“Jesus! Everyone take cover behind the truck!” I yelled. God willing the truck was big enough to conceal us all. The truck now separated us from the eastern horizon, where the bullet had come from. Peering out to see if anything was visible, I did happen to see that there was a sniper perched amongst the rocks about fifty feet ahead. I took a WA2000 sniper rifle from Pvt. Raj. I wasn’t going to let more of these men die because I brought them out here. I was going to end this myself. I held my breath to steady the scope, and took a mental note of where the sniper was in relation to what I would be seeing when I revealed myself. This was either going to kill me, or him.
Standing up, I quickly found his location, and fired. Bingo. Crouching down, I looked to my troops, sighed, and said it. “Tango down.” They all breathed a sigh of relief; they knew that he was dead.
“Private Allman! Can you give me our coordinates?” I called out.
Private Allman was the tech expert. He quickly pulled out some device that I assume was some kind of radar, and processed my request.
“Uh, yeah. I’m comin’ up with 33.00 North by 65.00 West. Mean anything?” he told me.
“33…65… 33 by 65. 33 BY 65! Don’t you get it? This is where he was shot! This is where there is some kind of enemy!”
Just then, there was an abrupt scream from Pvt. Raj,
“INCOMING TANGOS, 3 O’CLOCK!”
I shot my head around to my right to see about ten infantry troops, ready to fire. The men readied their guns, and took offensive positions, spreading themselves out, preparing to fire. Unfortunately, the lesser training we had all received in boot camp began to show. These soldiers were clearly much more proficient in warfare than we were, and that was apparent when three of the fifteen men I had brought along were wiped out almost immediately. We began to fight back, taking down half of their squad, while still losing about six of our men. With just about equal numbers, we had head on warfare in front of us. Two more of our men went down, as I cursed under my breath for bringing them here in the first place. I took aim down the gun employed to me for the first time, and fired three bursts of metal bullets from the standard issue FAMAS I had. Two kills. My last comrade, who turned out to be my most reliable one, Pvt. Raj, fell to their last soldier.
And then, I was hit too. The pain was so immense that I immediately stumbled back, and fell to the ground. Not quite dead, but I was feeling pretty close to it. The constant, sharp pain of having something lodged deep inside yourself is not a pleasant feeling. The soldier approached me, looking to make my death more personal than it needed to be. I was seemingly defenseless, so he had no reason to be worried. As he readied a pistol to my face, mocking me in whatever language his country spoke, it wasn’t really relevant. I grabbed the gun that was on the ground next to me, and fired, hitting him in the leg. He screamed in pain, and nearly collapsed himself. Firing again, he fell back, defeated. It’s over. It’s actually over. But did anyone really win?
Time passed, and nothing happened. As I began to fade out, the sound of boots came from behind me.
I awoke on a helicopter, surrounded by three men. I looked down at my chest, and noticed the familiar red color I had come to know so well. Under it, however, instead of the camouflage color of my uniform, was white infirmary tape.
“Hey! You’re awake, mate!” The blonde haired one next to me with an Australian accent said, giving me a nod.
“How did you find me?” I asked, in a whispered tone.
“Australian patrol. Heard the gunshots and came to your position. Good thing too. Who knows if you would have made it or not. We’re on our way back to the hospital.”
“The hospital… You sure I’m going to make it all the way there?”
“Yes, you’re going to make it. You’re going to live.”
-Is the main character ok?
-should the ending be changed? (I have a different one in mind)
33 by 65
I have always wanted to join the army. Even as I lay here on the warm and dusty ground with the sun beating down on me, struggling to breathe, I knew that I had made the right decision. I arched my neck, hoping to see anything beyond the sea of tan colored soil and rock that stretched out before me, seemingly endlessly.
Damn it. There was nothing; and no sign of any kind of rescue, no sign of damnation on the horizon. There were just the dead bodies of all who had just fought in this battle. My head collapsed onto the hard ground with a thud, and, as I attempted to settle myself, the sound of the pebbles on the ground rang through my ears. Are these pebbles the last thing I’m going to hear? I wondered. I looked down at my chest, seeing the wound that would undoubtedly do me in. If I had just been one second faster, one step ahead… None of it mattered anymore. Glancing up at the sky, the vibrant blue color struck me strangely. Why did I have to die on a day like today? I closed my eyes slowly, accepting that I had done everything that I could, and that this was simply the end. It happened to everyone.
As the sounds and feelings of the world began to leave me behind, I thought that I heard the crunch of boots on soil from behind me.
It was nearly two years ago, when I had first enlisted; four years after the war had started on the day that was supposed to end the world. I guess it really was for some. December 21, 2012. The Apocalypse Day of mankind; the end of the world. That’s when tragedy struck. The United States of America was attacked in an unexpected assault on its east coast. Boston was completely destroyed in an atomic explosion. It was the worst terrorist attack in our nation’s history. In the days following we discovered a little too late that the Middle Eastern countries felt the United States had overstayed their welcome, and wanted us gone. Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia had for some reason allied together to try and eradicate us completely. Naturally, the rest of the world wasn’t really ok with this, so the United Kingdom, Australia, Russia, and Spain had come to our aid. War had broken out on the other side of the world, as well. North Korea had literally bombed South Korea into submission, and became a military dictatorship, known only as The Republic of Korea. I would be later told that putting the word Republic was simply an attempt to put a blanket over everything, as if the world didn’t know already.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end. As troops from the Middle Eastern Alliance began their assault on America, they gained more and more allies. The newly formed Republic of Korea had agreed on an alliance, and they began the invasion of Japan, which brought them into the war. The Asian hostility increased when China invaded India, with the purpose of controlling the entirety of Asia by the end of the fighting. The Allied forces were fighting the MEA (Middle Eastern-Asian) Federation.
World War III had begun.
The night before I was due to leave for boot camp at Ft. Knox, nearly two weeks after the war had started, my parents sat me down and tried to have a serious family discussion about my decision. We all knew that soldiers from all countries involved were dying every day. We all knew that my chances of survival past two months in action were slim. None of it mattered to me. I knew that this was my calling, and they knew it too. The days I spend as a kid playing ‘war’ in the sandbox; the time I spent as an adolescent working out for the purpose of being in top condition as they required; now was the time it would all come to fruition.
“It’s suicide,” they told me.
“What about your future?” they asked me.
“Mom, Dad,” I began. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. This is my future.” I finished, both the stern look in my eyes, and the sinking in theirs allowed us both to know that this was the way it was going to be. On my last night in my house, I fell asleep to the muffled sounds of my mother crying.
As I pulled over in my car at the entrance to Boot Camp and retrieved my one bag’s worth of belongings out from the passenger seat, I tossed the keys to my old ’05 Ford Explorer to a passerby, and uttered only two words,
“Take it.”
It’s not like I was going to need it anymore. Hell, if I made it back to drive this car again, I’d happily buy a new one; the war would be over.
Boot Camp nowadays isn’t what it was like during the war in Iraq a few years ago, it was a much quicker process. With the threat the updated technology of our enemy presented, we needed as many soldiers out there as we could. As long as they knew how to shoot a gun, throw a grenade, and generally just not kill each other, they were good enough for infantry. Of course, specialized soldiers, such as the tech and air support, and rangers took more than just a few weeks. They would be here, amongst the trees and grasslands of the Fort for at least a few months, perfecting their skills. I followed the rest of the new recruits up the stone steps, and into what appeared to be the entrance hall. The ceiling must have been fifty feet high, supported by six individual pillars made of white marble. The floor, also made of marble, seemed to reflect the army. The entrance was bright and polished, like the new recruits. However, as you progressed to your destination, the maintenance was not done as often or as well, and the floor became scuffed, dirty, and generally bleak, like the army once you were in the thick of battle.
Making our way to the designated room, we all took seats in folding chairs, for a presentation that was set to begin. A sergeant came into the room, and surprisingly enough wasn’t yelling extremely loudly like me, and at least a few others expected him to. He did however; introduce himself as Sgt. Locke, 1st class.
“I’m to brief you on the army, because I doubt many of you really know much about the army, aside from playing your little video games. War isn’t a game, people. It’s real life. You will see blood. You will see death. You will have to kill other people. Boot camp is a grueling, terrible process. It will push your mental and physical limits. If you don’t think you can handle this, I’m giving you one last chance to back out. No one will be mad; all you need to do is say the word.”
One skinny little man, couldn’t have been older than twenty, got up and quickly left the room. Heh, he must’ve wanted to reenact call of duty in real life. Didn’t understand the consequences of war. With the boom of Locke’s voice, we all jumped out of our seats.
“Finally! All the bullshit is done with! All of you stand up! NOW! That is your first order!” he roared.
Jesus, what happened to the nice guy who we just met? My questions would be answered promptly.
“That entire nice guy shit? Just formality. This is who you’re going to be seeing for the next few weeks, so you better get used to it. This is what the army is all about. Toughness. If you can’t handle me, you’re sure as hell not going to make it through to the Middle East. Now, everyone head to the bunks and drop your stuff. You have tonight off, you better savor it. Your last night as free men. Starting tomorrow at o-five hundred, you’re all under my control. GET GOING!” he finished, severely raising the intimidation he had struck into those around me. I personally had half expected this from the start, so I wasn’t too concerned. As long as I did it everything I was supposed to, and did it well, I’d make it out of here alive.
The weeks progressed slowly, doing everything pretty much the same everyday, the S.S.D.D., as it was called ‘round here. The physical aspects were tedious. Running, lifting weights and hand to hand combat was our bi-daily schedule, the other days being the mental tasks of deciphering codes, and assembling and disassembling weaponry which often made my head hurt by the end of the day. Despite how miserable we all during these challenges, I always pushed myself to be in the front of the pack, and always help the stragglers finish. Eventually, it was the end of my tenure here, and I was destined to leave for Afghanistan. Before I left, Sgt. Locke pulled me aside.
“Son, you’re a real army man. I’ve got faith that you’ll pull these others through when the time comes.”
“Sir?”
“Just trust me. When the time comes for you to take command, you’ll do our country and your platoon proud.” And with that, he gave me a pat on the back and sent me on my way.
Afghanistan was not the place I expected it to be. It was a decimated war zone. The base camp we were sent to was in terrible condition. Wounded everywhere and supplies were running dangerously low. Luckily, when we were deployed, we were airdropped supplies and ammo, much to the relief of Captain Silverman, a man in his late thirties. His hair had turned gray with the stress of war, and he had many scars scattered throughout his torso and face. Upon our arrival at about 15:35 local time, we were immediately sent on a scouting mission, our leading officer to be Corporal Mather, who didn’t seem to be too confident in his leading abilities. I was informed from one of the privates that he had only recently been promoted because he had survived the longest; all his other comrades had died.
After traveling east the rest of the day, we set up camp once nightfall had struck. An initial search of the perimeter showed no signs of enemy activity, but shifts were taken through out the night to make sure that nothing happened. The night was uneventful, but I was awoken by my fellow privates to stunning news - Cpl. Mather was dying. He had left early in the morning to scout the area. He had been shot, and it was only when others had gone to look for him they discovered him, bleeding out on the ground.
I ran out to hear the last words he would speak. Kneeling by him, he kept repeating the same three words, over and over a gain in raspy, hushed tone that was his last attempt to communicate. “33 by 65.” He said. No one had any kind of clue as to what it might mean.
“Which direction did he go?” I inquired to the group. We have to investigate. There’s got to be something around there that will help us figure this out.
With the general census being the east, I gathered the rest of the troops and told them what we were doing. Now, I was just a private myself, but someone had to lead these troops. We got into the trucks and headed out. As we traveled across the barren desert climate of Afghan, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. After we had traveled for about twenty minutes, we pulled over, and began to investigate.
But then, suddenly, Pvt Ramirez, who was examining the area to the east, was shot dead.
“Jesus! Everyone take cover behind the truck!” I yelled. God willing the truck was big enough to conceal us all. The truck now separated us from the eastern horizon, where the bullet had come from. Peering out to see if anything was visible, I did happen to see that there was a sniper perched amongst the rocks about fifty feet ahead. I took a WA2000 sniper rifle from Pvt. Raj. I wasn’t going to let more of these men die because I brought them out here. I was going to end this myself. I held my breath to steady the scope, and took a mental note of where the sniper was in relation to what I would be seeing when I revealed myself. This was either going to kill me, or him.
Standing up, I quickly found his location, and fired. Bingo. Crouching down, I looked to my troops, sighed, and said it. “Tango down.” They all breathed a sigh of relief; they knew that he was dead.
“Private Allman! Can you give me our coordinates?” I called out.
Private Allman was the tech expert. He quickly pulled out some device that I assume was some kind of radar, and processed my request.
“Uh, yeah. I’m comin’ up with 33.00 North by 65.00 West. Mean anything?” he told me.
“33…65… 33 by 65. 33 BY 65! Don’t you get it? This is where he was shot! This is where there is some kind of enemy!”
Just then, there was an abrupt scream from Pvt. Raj,
“INCOMING TANGOS, 3 O’CLOCK!”
I shot my head around to my right to see about ten infantry troops, ready to fire. The men readied their guns, and took offensive positions, spreading themselves out, preparing to fire. Unfortunately, the lesser training we had all received in boot camp began to show. These soldiers were clearly much more proficient in warfare than we were, and that was apparent when three of the fifteen men I had brought along were wiped out almost immediately. We began to fight back, taking down half of their squad, while still losing about six of our men. With just about equal numbers, we had head on warfare in front of us. Two more of our men went down, as I cursed under my breath for bringing them here in the first place. I took aim down the gun employed to me for the first time, and fired three bursts of metal bullets from the standard issue FAMAS I had. Two kills. My last comrade, who turned out to be my most reliable one, Pvt. Raj, fell to their last soldier.
And then, I was hit too. The pain was so immense that I immediately stumbled back, and fell to the ground. Not quite dead, but I was feeling pretty close to it. The constant, sharp pain of having something lodged deep inside yourself is not a pleasant feeling. The soldier approached me, looking to make my death more personal than it needed to be. I was seemingly defenseless, so he had no reason to be worried. As he readied a pistol to my face, mocking me in whatever language his country spoke, it wasn’t really relevant. I grabbed the gun that was on the ground next to me, and fired, hitting him in the leg. He screamed in pain, and nearly collapsed himself. Firing again, he fell back, defeated. It’s over. It’s actually over. But did anyone really win?
Time passed, and nothing happened. As I began to fade out, the sound of boots came from behind me.
I awoke on a helicopter, surrounded by three men. I looked down at my chest, and noticed the familiar red color I had come to know so well. Under it, however, instead of the camouflage color of my uniform, was white infirmary tape.
“Hey! You’re awake, mate!” The blonde haired one next to me with an Australian accent said, giving me a nod.
“How did you find me?” I asked, in a whispered tone.
“Australian patrol. Heard the gunshots and came to your position. Good thing too. Who knows if you would have made it or not. We’re on our way back to the hospital.”
“The hospital… You sure I’m going to make it all the way there?”
“Yes, you’re going to make it. You’re going to live.”
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