Not A Perfect Soldier But A Good Man Novels & Stories

He knew all this young man needed was support by telling him he was trying. "Owen, it's okay! there's nothing to be forgiven for. We've all made a mistake or two that we deeply regret and make us feel hopeless. Because of that, you don't have to blame yourself if sometimes you think or act selfishly. That's a normal thing, it just shows that we are human beings who sometimes have a weak heart. There are times when we feel strong and there are also times when we feel vulnerable. So, be tough! you are a soldier of the pride of Lithonia, therefore you should also be proud of yourself. Do you understand?" Owen was stunned, the gaze in his eyes could not be separated from the figure of the comman

That small soldier saw his commander starting to dismantle the bomb. He was so passionate. His commander’s camouflage sleeves were half folded up, and it exposed half of his copper brown toned arm. When he bent down to shovel mud, he still remained cold and stylish. His entire body was full of strength and power. Strong like metal. The small soldier dreamt that he would also become a man like commander one day. He was a real masculine man, and only by being like this would not let the country down. He would be able to make the country proud!

“That’s why I didn’t initially agree to the attack but I was overruled. Hell, they wouldn’t even listen to me. I’m old enough to fight but not to make decisions. I wasn’t a leader. I was merely a soldier. Or am. I’m still a soldier.” “Bambi,” I said, feeling sorry for him. “It’s alright,” he said, lowering his head. “Really, it is. The army has done a lot for me. They helped me when no one else would. Orphans like me don’t really make it outside the army. It’s hard to succeed without support. Who will vouch for me? Being a soldier has taught me a lot about life and about this cause. And I believe in it, Anna, and believe it or not, I’m willing to die for it. It’s the only way that we’re goin

Everyone got silent as a man she saw that Matt followed behind, he climbed up on the makeshift stage and gave a speech. “Thank you, everyone for coming tonight for this occasion. As all know the evening will start with promoting ranks of soldiers who earned and were selfless and courageous in the battlefield. Soldiers who worked long and hard to earn the positions that are now to be given to them as in acknowledge and approval for all their hard work and actions they have done to protect us and our country and their brothers on the field.

I could tell she was from the Blood Moon, but I couldn’t remember her face or name. “Thank you,” I smiled at her, and she left with a respectful bow. “At least they respect you,” Mum commented. “But that mate of yours…” she started, her eyes stopping at my neck, on his mark. “Do you believe that soldiers are good men?” I asked, slowly stirring my coffee. “Humans or wolves, but could someone who has killed before, be a good man?” “I suppose they could.” “Then believe me when I say that my mate is a good man, even if he has some blood on his hands,” I said, looking up again.

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

They didn't need to ask me what happened; they knew it must be the handiwork of the female soldier. There was also this favourite soldier, who was loved by everyone. He was very friendly and had a special way of making us obey orders. He was voted the best military man in the orientation camp. He would always come with a stick like a Fulani herdsman. He never used the stick on anyone but he would threaten us with it as he shouted, If you are still in the hostel, you are wrong!

"No, not hate all men. Hate bad men. Not all men bad. Some men very good. I think you very good." "What makes you think that?" She smiled. "You worry me walking on the road. You give me coffee. You ask my life." "Don't you realise that I carried a gun in your country, or the one next to it, and shot people for no reason? Just because somebody with a couple of stripes on his sleeve told me to? Don't you realise that I was exactly like every other soldier that invaded your country. Exactly the same. You said so yourself." "Maybe wrong about that. Not all same. Maybe some… same like me – trapped, like prisoner. Must do this, must do that, no choice."

"How many others like Rose are there? How many girls are you and the other soldiers taking advantage of?" He shakes his head and takes a step closer. He's close enough that I can see the name on his tag: Wilkinson. "We're not taking advantage of anyone," he says. "We're simply giving them a chance to take care of themselves while we get something in return. You make it seem like its abuse or evil. I've got news for you, Sweetheart. It's just business." "You disgust me," I say boldly, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. "You and the other soldiers that are taking part in this. You're all disgusting and-"