A Little Story of Truth

To open my new blog, I have a special story for my readers. A little far fetched, but completely from the heart. I think you'll enjoy it:

It had been almost four years now. For many, it was just a matter of turning on the news and hearing of another helicopter crash or suicide bombing. Four years of watching a country being devoured by war. But for some, it had been four years of pure bloodshed, tranquility, and vengeance. And worst of all, more was yet to come.

… “Ready your arms men, we attack at the strike of dawn!” commanded Lieutenant Ricardo Jones. He wore his uniform with honor far above any other. His men loaded their guns and positioned them solidly in their right hands, the barrels pointing straight over their shoulders. Lieutenant Jones marched his men out the tent into the scorching heat of the Iraqi desert. Their primary focus was one: raid the enemy barracks just 500 feet from the cliff ahead and spare nobody.
“Sir, permission to commence Operation: AD Stealth Raid,” exclaimed a squad leader, looking over the cliff.
“Good luck men! For the red, white, and blue, all units are go.” Lieutenant Jones clicked off his radio and followed his corps down the hillside. Within moments of departure, smoke erupted from the barrel of Jones’ gun. The first shot was fired…

Ricardo Jones was ripped out of his daydreams by the booming voice of his chief officer. Indeed, Jones was only a Lieutenant in his daydreams. A marine was all he was and all he could ever be in reality.
“Jones, do you know what ‘court-marshaling’ is? If you don’t now, you sure as heck will in the next few days if you don’t pay attention when I’m discussing the dang ops plan!” the chief marine shrieked at him with utter anger.
“My greatest regrets, sir. Just lost in my thoughts,” replied Ricardo. As the head marine continued reviewing the mission plans, one by one Jones’ fellow marines began mounting their guns shoulder side preparing to exit the base. As the officer finished and rolled up the sheet on the table, the marines proceeded to exit the tent. As Ricardo followed, he was pushed and shoved out of the way by several of his colleagues. Acting oblivious, he followed them out without standing up for himself even once.

Now Ricardo’s heart was racing. Brave as he was, (which was almost not at all), all he ever wanted to do was become fearless and fight valiantly to make his country proud. He was unsure if that was something he could ever achieve.
His feet were now trembling with fear. He stepped out into the Iraqi sunlight which pierced his skin with heat like a hot knife into butter. He started to feel dizzy. Not from the heat, but from the sensation of holding a rifle and getting ready to kill or get killed. Ricardo walked farther trying to catch his stance. As he approached his corps, he felt as if everything was wrong.

… “Thank you all for gathering here with me today amongst some of the bravest men in our country who choose to do things sacrificing to make this world better for people like you, me, and our country’s children,” said the President Riley, standing at the podium emblazoned with the presidential seal. “And without further ado, I am proud to present this year’s Outstanding Patriotic Service award to Lieutenant Ricardo Jones for selfless deeds to protect the national security of the USA and the people of Iraq from rebels of their own kind. Please, give him a grand round of applause.”
Applause erupted from all over the hall. Cameras started flashing at Jones from all over. All he could do was stand up and smile. All he ever wanted in life, all he ever hoped for in his career was before him at this very moment. He embraced the applause and the occasional “thank you for your wonderful work” or “very brave” from a few alien faces amongst the vast crowd. The President paced over to Jones holding a medallion and delicate piece of paper his hand outstretched inviting a hand-shake. Jones shook the Presidents hand, a hand he knew he would not shake again for years to come…

“Jones, watch yourself. Grenade shell at 9 o’clock!” shouted a marine from thirty feet away. Ricardo, still adjusting to reality, jumped to the right avoiding the explosion.
“Thanks. I owe you,” he replied.
“You owe us all Jones, you owe us all,” the marine said back.
Ricardo had a sudden rush of anger. Until now, he had allowed everyone to push him around, think of him as some amateur. What if he did something that stretched the limits even for his chief officer? Something so selfless, so honorable, that his fellow marines would never again even dare look him in the eye with a straight face. He would finally be respected. As a marine, he would now be considered worthy and more importantly, brave. He could just imagine it. His daydreams were coming before him. All of them could be a reality! Warmth spread through Jones’ body. The decision was clear and he had made up his mind.

Ricardo Jones came out of hiding into open firing range. He detached three fragment grenades from his uniform and began to run towards the enemy barracks. His daydreams flashed before him but were very vague from all the gunfire around him. He could hear the mines explode behind him, the sniper bullets whipping past him. He could even hear the occasional “IS JONES OUT OF HIS MIND!” or “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” from his co-fighters behind him. He knew he had made the right decision.

Ricardo came within 20 feet of the enemy territory and stopped in his tracks. He felt the sudden searing pain of a bullet in his knee. He fell to the ground. Without thinking twice, Ricardo unpinned the three grenades in his hands and heaved them into the barracks. Before he saw any explosion, he heard a crack! The warmth of confidence he had felt just seconds ago slowly turned into an icy cold sensation which spread all too quickly around his body. He lowered his head and saw blood pouring out of a bullet hole in his chest. He smiled, closed his eyes and fell to the ground. As he lost all sensation in his body, he heard a cacophony of explosions and screams from the barracks. He took his final breath and heard a “By god! He’s done it! Jones has done it!” He smiled and saw himself atop a hill holding the American flag proudly. He passed away as Jones the brave...