Manhunt by Simon Armitage

Manhunt by Simon ArmitageCreative writing task Manhunt by Simon ArmitageI was on my third tour of duty in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. The withdraw was to liberate the bea from the Taliban but it was harder than we expected. It wasnt like this fighting proper soldier, they would issue up anywhere and shoots at us plus the local nation didnt trust us so they wouldnt help us at all. The Taliban are unattackable because the tactics they use are cowardly. They are also strong because the local people are so weak.The thin send heals a frigid tone in the night and a heavy shot brought a sudden rush of coldness to my face. It was Christmas daytime and also was quite foggy outside and tonight we were being hunted. We were trying to have a quite Christmas. The army cook was going to make some dishes for us but not any special dishes we normally have on Christmas day like the Christmas ham, pork roast, Cornish hens etc. I was lose the crackers, Christmas hat, music and also was mi ssing my families a lot. We were only when trying to bonk ourselves. However, every moment we had to rely on out instincts and just consent and pray that the enemy wouldnt detect us.This is how we spend our days. After having a here and now of meal we had to go for training. The whole day we did endless training, marching, shooting practices, running, fittingness test etc. I had to stay in a trench. The tonus is unbearable, starting to make me feel ill. The trenches were the front line, the close to dangerous places. The trenches were take away into the ground so that the infantry would have some protection from the enemy. Conditions in the trenches were horrendous.The day after Christmas we were out on patrol in the local village. Villagers behaving very oddly, even the more friendly ones wouldnt talk to us. As before long as they saw us they hurried into their houses. After spending the day in the village we went back to our trench.After few hours as I looked up, I could feel and hear the roaring flames. The upgrade blaze and burned, crawling closer and closer to our trench. There was a cold malevolent air to it. The wind howling past us in every which way. I myself was confused for minutes. One minute the bullets were raining holy hell low-spirited on us in a never ending onslaught and the next nothing. No movement, no bullets, no people, no wind. Its like they just vanished or they were never there, to begin with.A fog was rolling in, throwing us all into despair. We couldnt fight if we couldnt see. The fog was dense, so thick. And then suddenly, we were being mobbed, bullets rainwater us, slaughtering us like sheep whilst we werent expecting it. Every time the bomb hits the ground, more fire is unleashed, spreading wildly. We should have acknowledgen, but we didnt and we paid for it dearly. Five of us already injured and two of us were already dead before we know what had happened. They were moaning and groaning. I could hear the screams o f the dying men.I could tell that his life was slowly attenuation away.The aspect of blood hit me then, the adrenaline fading fast from my personate and sudden pain in my chest. Suddenly the sounds of the guns going forth and stem fire stunning me briefly in its sudden intensity. My senses became hypersensitive. I could smell the blood, sweat and fear. I could feel the snow squelching beneath my feet, stopping me as I ran and all I could hear was the thump of my heartbeat, pounding deafeningly by my chest and head.An aftermath of the attack people was shouting, screaming. There was no query that it was one of the most devasting and most brutal fights. After few minutes the helicopter whirring and coming down and lifted out on a stretcher and took the dead bodies and the ones got injured and then flown away.Life in the trenches was the worst life anyone could live and I am sure most people regretted being a soldier. Morale was good after all, this is what we had been through a ll that training for. Some of the soldiers couldnt wait to be allowed to fire off their weapon and shows the Taliban what we were made for. After the recovered I went home in real sense refers to a place of rest. The experience of war is something no soldier can escape.