The blood orange sun begins to set as the purple sky fades into to a deep velvet black. The grounds are mostly silent from the West Sector and so all I can hear is my footsteps on the ground and the crunch of the gravel below my feet. The patrol group should already be at their posts by the time I get there. Being a Lieutenant in charge of something as simple and insignificant as a punishment patrol my commanding officers are fairly lenient with my reporting times. With one arm I hold my gun and with my other I hold my notebook and Aviation History textbook. Because of these idiots I was late to my aviation history class and still have some work to do. Finally approaching our post I see the troops sitting around and talking, Lance Corporal Liam Payne is at least cleaning his gun and Officer Cadet Louis Tomlinson is trying to motivate the new recruits to patrol with him.
‘Attention!’ I demand, announcing my arrival and calling my squad to attention in the military respect I have earned by title. ‘Payne you will educate the recruits on proper weapons maintenance.’
‘Sir.’ Liam salutes, accepting his commands.
‘Tomlinson!’ I call over the distance to him, he turns and marches towards me at double time before halting in front of me and saluting, ‘You will continue your patrol then at 2100 I will send someone to accompany you.’
He looks concerned, ‘Sir.’ Tomlinson salutes before turning on his heel and marching off, before I have a chance to reassure him of his lone patrol.
‘You two jerk-offs,’ I point at the two recruits who have cost me my night, ‘You sad excuses for soldiers will learn how to clean your guns with Lance Corporal Payne and then one of you will accompany Officer Cadet Tomlinson as he ensures the safety of our camp. We are all your superiors, you will salute us and address us as either Sir or our title. To you we have no names. Is that clear?’
‘Sir, yes sir.’ They comply in unison.
‘Dismissed.’ I don’t wait to see if they salute or not. I simply turn and sit on a nearby log, pulling a torch out of my pocket and point it at my notebook, holding the torch in my mouth I begin to make notes from my aviation history textbook. Words of history fill my head and hold my focus captivated with each mark and line of the aviators of years before me. At my rank there is no reason for me to continue my studies in Aviation History but since I took that class in pilot training school I have not been able to stop. In the distance I can hear Liam explain the details of weapons maintenance and the clumsy clatter as the recruits try to keep up with his instructions. Lucky for them I have worked with Payne before and he is a tolerant and patient soldier.
I hear a pained cry come from the distance and without a moment to think I grab my gun and drop my books. I see the others get to their feet as well. The blonde one, Private Horan drops his gun having not properly reassemble it but I don’t have the time to help him. I run in a dead sprint towards where Louis should have been during his patrol, following the piercing sound of his cries. I see him.
I stop.
Private Styles within moments of stopping beside me rushes to Tomlinson’s aid. I watch in slow motion as the recruit slides to the ground beside our fallen comrade, mud and leaves kicking up from the ground, sprinkling them in filth. Payne falls in beside them his gun cocked and ready to take fire. I hear Niall make a desperate call to the medical team. But I can’t take my focus off Harry as he applies pressure to Tomlinson’s heavily bleeding arm, his eyes keeping locked contact on Tomlinson’s making sure he doesn’t lose consciousness. Amongst the noise of Niall’s call, Harry’s attempts to calm down Tomlinson and the Cadet Officer’s screams I can hear the heavy footsteps and clunking of weapons as the attackers flee the scene. Kicking into gear I grip my gun and bring it to its ready position.
‘Payne, stand guard… Horan with me!’ I don’t wait to see if he follows, I take off in the direction of the footsteps.
Air assaults my lungs and adrenaline controls my muscles, I don’t know where I am going just letting my ears and instinct guide me. Flashbacks from my previous times in the field start to blind me, sounds of raging gunfire fill my ears and images of fallen comrades flash through my vision. Anger drives me forward, only now I can’t tell if I am running towards the men who have wounded a man under my watch or running away from the memories that haunt my mind.
I stop suddenly needing a moment to just realize why I am still running, I hear footsteps behind me and without hesitation I turn around. My gun pointing right between Private Horan’s eyes. His hands fly up as he drops his weapon and his eyes open wide in shock. I blink hard two… three times and release a shaky breath as sweat slides down my face and into my eye; pausing only to distinguish friend or foe. Finally I lower my weapon and see Niall take in a breath. I turn away from him and try to focus on the noises I had heard earlier; but I hear nor see anything.
‘What is it Lieutenant Malik?’ Private Horan whispers cautiously, keeping his voice low as to not startle me again or to avoid bringing the attention to us should anybody be watching. I hear another pained cry from Tomlinson in the distance once again and blink back a tear as memories threaten to show themselves in high definition this time.
‘We’ve lost them, quick hurry back.’ I command and the two of us run back as fast as we had when we left. I focus on the man I am currently trying to save not the men who I couldn’t.
As we reach the others I see Harry putting his face on top of Tomlinson’s it takes me a moment to realize he is applying mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It isn't until Harry pulls his face away from Louis's and begins to apply chest compressions do I realise Tomlinson’s body is motionless aside from the blood still pouring from his shoulder and chest.

Notes