12 GUIDEPOSTS.ORG
ILLUSTRATION^ BY^ GUYSTAUBERHawija, Iraq. June 2004.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Bullets whizzed by. Everyone ran
for cover. The gunfire had come out
of nowhere. I ducked behind a con-
crete wall and looked for the rest of
my unit. They were more than 45
feet away, too far for me to get to.
“Hold position!” my sergeant
yelled over the gunfire.
We were in a bad spot. We need-
ed backup and couldn’t move until
another unit got to us. I took a deep
breath and reloaded my gun.
BOOM!
The ground exploded, shrapnel
blasting through the air. Pain seared
through my side. I was flat on
my back. Was I hit? Breathing fast, I
ripped open my body armor and
stuck my hand inside. When I pulled
it out, it was covered in blood.
I lay there, helpless and alone, as
bullets ricocheted around me. Rock-
ets shrieked overhead. I clenched
my teeth, bracing against the pain.
My breaths came in ragged gasps.
Suddenly, there were hands on me,
dragging me. One of my fellow sol-
diers had managed to get to me. He
pulled me to a spot with more cover
and yelled for a medic.
“Everything’s going to be okay,
Evans,” he said. “We’ve got you.” Hiswords came to me through a fog.
I fought to keep my eyes open.
I struggled to breathe. The medic
applied pressure to my side to
stop the bleeding. “You have to stay
awake,” he said. Still, I felt myself
drifting. “Stay with us, Evans.”Everything went black.I WOKE UP IN ANOTHER PLACE. It felt
as if I were underwater, but I wasn’t
holding my breath. Everything was
cool. There was no pain. I felt weight-
less, drifting through this space,
so different from the hot, dry Iraqi
desert. Where am I? I looked up.
Light rippled down, refracted beams
from the surface reaching past me.
Though I didn’t know what was be-
yond it, I was overcome with the
urge to reach it. I kicked my legs and
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with ease, as if propelled by an un-
seen force.
I’m dying. I was not afraid. In fact, I
felt more at peace than I ever had
before. My life leading up to my mili-
tary career had been hard. My par-
ents were addicts. My father was abu-
sive; my mother, neglectful. I’d
fought against the odds to avoid end-
ing up like them. I struggled to pass
my classes in high school and toBy Bud Evans, MUNCIE, INDIANAA Soldier’s NDE