DAY EIGHT

When I finally fired my gun and killed those men, I became a soldier. Nothing I had ever done compared to what I had gone through in only the past eight days. I finally became a soldier when I learned that war wasn’t about my beliefs, or my values, but what I was ordered to do. It wasn’t about me, or Lolo, or even Capt. Mendez. This was about the revolution. I finally became a soldier when I realized that I would give my life for the revolution and my country. None of this I wanted to do. I didn’t want to kill those men. I don’t want to fight at all. All I want to do is go back to my old life with my family at our village. But now I realize that this might never happen. Now my family might be dead and Lolo could die at any moment. Nothing can ever be the same now. All I can do now is pray that Lolo, Ignacio, and I come through. More than anything else, in the past eight days, what I really learned the most was about myself. A few days ago, I never would have pulled the trigger. Most of my experiences I wouldn’t have been able to handle just a few days ago. Just a few days ago, I was a poor, starving little boy who made a living cutting cane and packing bananas. Now, I am a veteran child soldier of the forty third war.

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