The Reunion

Suddenly he found himself dragging the men onto shore, being helped by other men dressed in combat fatigues. They dragged the wounded into a bunker where he found rows of bandaged men on pallets. Many looked familiar. Moans of agony and screams for help filled the air. He felt pity, but before he could react, he found himself fighting for his life. He held a rifle in his hands and was firing at men in front of him. The compound was covered in the same thick smoke that was on the water moments earlier. He could smell the gunpowder and could hear the bullets flying over his head. Suddenly, he was in pain. He could see blood running down the leg of his trousers. He looked again, seeing hundreds of men running toward him in slow motion, firing their weapons as they came. He continued to fire his M-16, hitting every man he aimed at. They weren’t hard to hit because they were moving so slow. As quickly as they fell, more men replaced them. He continued to fire, never having to reload his weapon. They were suddenly running around him. He was fighting hand to hand. All around him were the screams of the wounded and the dying. He would shoot them, strike out at them with the butt of his rifle or fist. Suddenly, there was a bright light and a deafening roar.