What it feels like to go to war

We all went to war the same. Soldiers uncertain with what's ahead of us, with only 2 and a half years of training to help us and, in a way, calm our restless soul. Hoping that we will be able to survive, to come back to our families with weary but proud smiles.

The unknown is vast and scary. You expect the worst--to not come out of it alive--and say goodbye to everyone you hold dear. You say to them, with a straight face, devoid of emotion as much as you can, "I'll try to be back. I'm doing this for you."

The war was what you expected it to be and a lot more. To say that it was hard was an understatement. You've fought countless battles. Some days you win, some days you lose. Because of the peculiarity and urgency of the situation, you develop a bond with your co-soldiers who you fought with. Never has the word "comrade" meant so much to you, as it did in the war.

However, not everyone is a comrade. You realize that the war is a great test of character. You discover, sadly--regardless of what everyone promised before going in--that not everyone is brave, willing and team-spirited. There are those who chose to fight their battles with half-hearted commitment. There are those who fight for themselves, and does not care for your group's well being. There are those who chose to survive at any cost, even at the expense of others. There are those who chose to hide in the shadows while the crossfire is ongoing. They play safe, completely missing the point of going to war with comrades.

When the smoke clears and the battles end, you discover with a heavy, heavy heart that your comrades did not make it. You bite your lip to keep the tears from falling. You try to appear strong and positive. You try to be happy with the fact that you did survive the war. But you can't. You realize what you really wanted. You want to celebrate victory with the comrades you fought the war with. Anything less feels like a loss.

With disdain you realize, those who chose to fight in the war by playing safe survived. They walk around bragging, proud to have survived the war. You try to be happy for them because you understand how hard it is to fight in the war. You remember your comrades, the ones who fought with all their heart with bravery you so admire, and you realize they--these proud soldiers--did not deserve to own the victory you know others have fought hard for. You fear to go to war again with these so-called soldiers. You know you will not make it, with these cowardly, playing safe shits.

Of course only those who went to the war knew the real story. Sadly this is how life, how war, is. It is unfair, it is harsh, it does not give out brownie points for the brave ones. It eats the soul and the hope out of you, numbing you for what is come.