The world faded in and out of focus. The soldier's consciousness teetered on the edge of the void, yet somehow managed to grip on. His unfocused gaze slid past the wreckage which once was the Viet Kong headquarters building, to the rifle lying on his limp hand, and focused on the pair of bright green eyes, which were filled with such intense emotion that the soldier was momentarily jolted to alertness. He tried to sit up, but a nerve-wracking pain surged through his abdomen, and he gave a hoarse cry of agony. All around him, the ground was littered with bloody corpses, some twisted and some scorched, as though a monstrosity of some kind had passed by and carelessly scattered corpses like ashes over the battlefield. In his half-conscious state, the soldier heard voices, voices that were filled with emotion that threatened to overwhelm him with crushing pressure.
"The explosion... Viet Kong escaped... secret tunnel"
"Splinter...punctured vital organs...not...live"
"Johnson...Johnson..."
The voice called to him, filled with emotion, and it took all his willpower to resist the pull of the void. The voice, the voice of his friend, whom he had fought side by side with, whom he had promised he would live through the war. Then he thought of his family and his children, whom he would never see again. To think he would die on this battlefield of death and despair, instead of on his deathbed, living with his wife and children to a ripe old age. He looked around the battlefield for one last time. How many more were there like him, he thought. How many who would not live to see the light of day or feel the warmth of family? He gazed, once more, into those green eyes, from which tears now freely flowed, and mouthed his friend's name, as his parched throat could not voice a word. Then he drew his thoughts and feelings around him like a shroud, and , with one last smile, with an explosion of emotions, let go of his life.
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