a soldier's plea

I look to my right, it is the same terrifying scene as when I look to my left. My friends, my brothers, my sisters-they fall around me. Salty rivers roll down some of their faces, where on others- crimson tides blind their view. Some lay in the sand with eyes shocked open as they move on to a better place. Some have been scattered in so many pieces, it is difficult to tell what is what anymore. Some shriek out in pain as they are hit, others only grimace and keep moving. I must stay strong for the rest of my platoon. The some of us who survive will carry these memories long after these days are over. The days of companions alive one moment, and gone the next. The days of children running in the street surrounded by a torrent of danger- with innocent people dying everyday. The days of seeing so much red, you do not remember seeing anything else. The addiction of the bond, the never ending feeling of wanting to help your country-no matter what the cost. I can not see straight, I can not feel anything anymore. After subduing myself to the maliciousness of war-I am numb. I am numb of the heartache that I see in my family's eyes when they see me leave for another tour. I am numb of the hunger in the villager's eyes when they beg for sustenance as I walk by. I am numb.
The only alarm that makes me see straight is the job I must perform.
I serve.
I protect.
I am a soldier and this is my plea.