Day 5

I feel ill.
Every time I think back to the scene at the village I want to vomit.
I can't stop thinking about the children we found, will they be safe, or will they die like the rest of their village did. This image will be with me for the rest of my life, I will never be the same 12 year old boy again.

We went for our first real patrol today, we had to carry all our own things, guns ammo, dried rations, and water. We were crawling through the jungle like apes when we heard gun shots not far from where we were, as soon as I heard the first gun shot I could feel my heart start to beat louder and louder in my chest, there was no noise around us, I wondered if the rest of the patrol could hear my heart. Finally the gun shots stopped and we went towards where the shooting had come from. We found a village, not much different from my own, but there was no one to be seen, until we checked for people and found the villagers, all dead, not one alive person, young, old, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers, all dead. I was overwhelmed with sorrow, I dropped to my knees and sobbed, after all, a man who shows no sorrow is a man without a heart. We started to dig graves for the dead villagers, I was sent back into the jungle to fetch some leaves to lay over the graves. It was silent in the jungle, until I heard movement in the shrubbery, I turned instantly expecting it to be the loyalists, instead I turned to find a young girl, drenched in blood, in her arms was a bundle of clothes, I ran to her, calling for help as I did so. I took the rags from her only to find that there was a young baby inside. We nursed the girl back to health as well as we could, and on our way took them to the American lady. I can only pray that the children will live for longer than expected and not die over night.