Broken Soldier Novels & Stories

A short moment later, dozens of armed soldiers without symbols of their titles descended from the helicopters with ropes. The man that led them seemed to be very young. He swiftly walked toward Tobias Baker and bowed. “Mr. Baker, a batch of wounded soldiers were sent back from the Central America battlefield. Every single one of them is facing severe casualties. I’ve received orders to request you to operate on them as soon as possible. Please understand!” After he was finished talking, he did not waste another second and took Tobias Baker away. Immediately, Yonathan York walked up to him furiously and shouted.

Pushing himself up and turning around, he pumps the shotgun before turning around and aiming it at me. "Die," the soldier yells before someone comes from the side and hits the soldier in the head. The soldier falls to the ground with a broken helmet and a bloody head. Biting my tongue as I look, I see Rebecca with a brick and a shotgun in her hands. "Are you okay," she asks, dropping to her knees. "I'm fine," I lie, wiping some sweat from my forehead. "I'm fine." Swallowing some splits to dampen my dry throat, I look behind Rebecca and see some civilians with weapons. I look toward the soldier Rebecca killed with the brick. Already, there are two people looting him. They stripped him of his

"Tell me what you know!" The soldier groaned, his laughter subsiding into a grimace of pain. Blood trickled from his split lip as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes met mine, filled with defiance and malice. "You'll never get to Swiftclaw," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing but a failure, just like your father. And Swiftclaw will make you suffer, just as he did to him." My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of rage and sorrow intertwining within me. Memories of my father's demise flashed before my eyes, a painful reminder of the darkness that Swiftclaw embodied. The soldier's words stung, but I refused to let them weaken my resolve.

When the military finally rescued Derrick from the camp where the rebels held him captive, he was a shell of himself, a broken and dirty man who snarled at everyone, even those who would help him. In order to survive, he'd relied on his beast a little too much. Let the wolf protect him from the worst. Returning to the man he had once been proved?difficult. Derrick was no longer the brash and fit soldier who set out to do his duty for his country. He rolled off the plane a cripple, a useless veteran who couldn't even take a proper piss-or jerk off a quick one in the can. More than once he wished the infidels had killed him. Killed him so he wouldn't have to live like this. A burden on everyon

The soldiers screamed as they watched parts of their bodies vanish into the air. Maya could not just. Watch. She saw a soldier lying near the hole in the wall. Half of his chest was gone. It was replaced by a blinking light. He was gasping for air. His eyes were rolling back. Maya shouted, "I have to help him!" She ran across the battlefield. She jumped over the white light pulses from the people. She reached the soldier. Knelt down. She put her tool against his chest. The screen on the side began to flash: ERROR: FILE NOT FOUND. SECTOR BROKEN.

Sammy explained "WHAT?!" " nah we're joking you were only out for like an hour or two." Nash said relieving my stress. When Jack was about to say something the doctor walked in. "Ah, your awake." The doctor said while looking at his clip board. Jack grabbed my hand but I immediately jerked it back, I could see the hurt in his eyes but I didn't want to fall for him again. "Yeah what happened?" "Well you passed out due to dehydration and stress." I looked at Jack when he said stress and guilt immediately filled his face.

He was following orders just like a good warrior does. “It’s alright, it’s over now and we are okay.” He nods but does not say anything more. “Do you have people left back home? If there are then we must get them to come here because Lucas might take his anger out on them. I have no one at home, my parents are dead, so I have nothing to lose.” What I said made my friend’s eyes turn red and I knew then that he also lost his mother and sister.

As Steve walks down the hallway, still diligently carrying Shantal, a man in a high-ranking solider uniform with one sleeve rolled up walks by and scoffs at them. "If you're gonna cut yourself, here's a tip: keep your blood in your room and people won't stare." Shantal notices that the soldier's arm has multiple scars on it, but three quarters of them are in a pattern. Shantal looks behind Steve to the hallway floor and sees a trail of blood, leading back to her freshly cut forearms. A tear crawls down her cheek as she shoves her face back into Steve 's chest.

Kind of. The soldiers had stitched him together. Limbs held with crude thread, skin rotted in places, black with infection. Flies buzzed at his face. His body stank like decay. But at least he still breathed. His eyes were hollow, sunken deep into his skull. His once-muscular body was reduced to a crawling echo of ruin. “Do you have any last words?” “To everyone… I’m… sorry… for… what I did.” His voice was hardly audible. Daemonikai had severed his vocal cords, and he ended up coughing up a storm. Perhaps they hadn’t healed right?

"But what if I don’t get everything back? What if parts of me are just… lost forever?" Luke leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed. "Then you make peace with it." Jasper turned to him, surprised by the certainty in his voice. Luke continued, “In the army, we called it TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury). As a combat medic, I tended to wounded soldiers who suffered from TBI due to loud explosions or impacts on the head during battles. Some recovered fully with their memories intact, some lost memories which they recovered slowly over the years, while some were wiped clean; no memory recovery. I know how you feel, boss. I had seen people take their own lives because they felt empty—like they were