Once there was a soldier, who took his gear to his first battle. He was a cadet. He was young, naive and fearless. He brought his full heart into it. But after a long, frightening time, full of insecurities and near death moments, lucky enough, he came back with a mind full of doubts and a, better than nothing, heavy heart.
He knew better than anyone else the last battle worthed his fight. He learned his lesson, and now his shooting skill was so much more precise. But he lost part of himself in that last battle. He could feel it, and he knew it. He couldn’t go into the next one as the same person again because of that lost part, a part he treasured, a part he wished he could keep.
Surely he knew better this time, he was now a captain, with experience, he knew which way leads to what. But he was no longer a fresh cadet. He wouldn’t jump with a full heart, and he wouldn’t jump without a life jacket as he used to, once. And he knew all this in his head, way before you picked his gun and went into the battlefield. He was one broken soldier.
Would the next battle be as bad as the last?
Would the next battle be as painful as the last?
Would the next be …
The possibilities ran forever.
But there was one thing he learned. Only could he find what he lost at the place where be lost it.
And there he went, marching into the next battle … again.