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Description
"You've Got to Keep Going"

I looked at my watch. 0302. 33 minutes until takeoff. Tim and Mike chatted behind me about home, trying to pretend we were not insignificant specks on a landing pad about to risk our lives again. Hamish and Nick were silent like I was and Larry made his way across the landing pad towards us, his brother Steve in tow. Simone sat on the cold concrete, checking her weapons like I had so many times in the past minutes.
A lone soldier loped across the landing pad, silhouetted against the clear night sky. It was a beautiful night. The heat of the day would be unpleasant after this coolness, after the refreshing breeze that tickled our faces had faded with the song of the stars. Larry and Steve had now joined the conversation, adding their own anecdotes about Melbourne and holiday memories of Perth and the capital.
I wished I was able to delve into my own memories, escape the reality of death and Australia's weight on my shoulders.
By this time, the silhouette had become a man, and he stood before me, putting out his hand to shake mine.
"General Kyle, right?" He clasped my hand in his.
"Correct." My accent was a stark contrast from his slow American drawl.
"Lieutenant Tom, I'll be joining you on your mission tonight."
"Glad to meet you," I turned to my men, "Looks like it's not just us Aussies after all."
The men introduced themselves to the newcomer, making remarks about an American spy being sent to monitor their little slaves. Nervous laughter echoed throughout the facility, but the words had some truth to them; Australia had become a hostage of American policy in this Afghanistan war.
Behind me, there was the sound of a chopper starting up, its rotor blades furiously beating the air and sending dust skittering along the ground towards us. We made our way towards the Chinook—an American make—and ducked under the blades. My watch read 0334 and I was the last person aboard. There was a symphony of other helicopters starting up around us on the landing pad and fearful eyes gleamed at me through the darkness.
"You know what to do," were the last words I uttered before we lifted off the ground; the men had been briefed before getting to the landing pad. Around me, lips pressed tight with determination and adrenaline mellowed out the fear in their eyes. I could feel the same happening to me as the helicopter finally shook itself free of gravity.
My watch glowed in the darkness. 0338. The base faded behind its leafy cover and all we could see were stars. The chopper cut brutally through the silence, almost like we had been detached from reality.
Suddenly, the helicopter began to shake, and the pilots yelled from the front. It dipped and turned wildly, rebelling against control and ignoring the perfect flying conditions. The soldiers began to shout and pulled guns from their sides. There was no culprit, no reason, and the helicopter tumbled towards the ground. A shot sounded from someone's itchy trigger finger and fire wormed its way into my leg as the helicopter became a victim of gravity. 0339. My watch blinked futilely and the helicopter buried itself in the ground.
Blackness.

Where is that beeping coming from? I try to open my eyes, but the pain in my leg blurs my sight. My nose reports the smell of blood and anaesthetic. A face melts across my vision.
"Doc, he's awake."
"He shouldn't be." A second face looms into view.
"Hey buddy, you're lucky you survived. Gotta take you into surgery now."
The crash. The crash. I need to know.
"Who?" I croak. They pause. "Who?" The nurse and the doctor share an uncomfortable look, and at last the doctor speaks.
"Tom, Simone, Larry and Ralph didn't make it. I'm so sorry."
The pain in my leg explodes again and a stab enters my arm. My awareness fades and I feel like I'm moving. I feel delirious, on the edge of a hallucination as I float away. Maybe I already am hallucinating. Reality has become a dream…
Is someone singing?

Description
"You've Got to Keep Going"

I looked at my watch. 0302. 33 minutes until takeoff. Tim and Mike chatted behind me about home, trying to pretend we were not insignificant specks on a landing pad about to risk our lives again. Hamish and Nick were silent like I was and Larry made his way across the landing pad towards us, his brother Steve in tow. Simone sat on the cold concrete, checking her weapons like I had so many times in the past minutes.
A lone soldier loped across the landing pad, silhouetted against the clear night sky. It was a beautiful night. The heat of the day would be unpleasant after this coolness, after the refreshing breeze that tickled our faces had faded with the song of the stars. Larry and Steve had now joined the conversation, adding their own anecdotes about Melbourne and holiday memories of Perth and the capital.
I wished I was able to delve into my own memories, escape the reality of death and Australia's weight on my shoulders.
By this time, the silhouette had become a man, and he stood before me, putting out his hand to shake mine.
"General Kyle, right?" He clasped my hand in his.
"Correct." My accent was a stark contrast from his slow American drawl.
"Lieutenant Tom, I'll be joining you on your mission tonight."
"Glad to meet you," I turned to my men, "Looks like it's not just us Aussies after all."
The men introduced themselves to the newcomer, making remarks about an American spy being sent to monitor their little slaves. Nervous laughter echoed throughout the facility, but the words had some truth to them; Australia had become a hostage of American policy in this Afghanistan war.
Behind me, there was the sound of a chopper starting up, its rotor blades furiously beating the air and sending dust skittering along the ground towards us. We made our way towards the Chinook—an American make—and ducked under the blades. My watch read 0334 and I was the last person aboard. There was a symphony of other helicopters starting up around us on the landing pad and fearful eyes gleamed at me through the darkness.
"You know what to do," were the last words I uttered before we lifted off the ground; the men had been briefed before getting to the landing pad. Around me, lips pressed tight with determination and adrenaline mellowed out the fear in their eyes. I could feel the same happening to me as the helicopter finally shook itself free of gravity.
My watch glowed in the darkness. 0338. The base faded behind its leafy cover and all we could see were stars. The chopper cut brutally through the silence, almost like we had been detached from reality.
Suddenly, the helicopter began to shake, and the pilots yelled from the front. It dipped and turned wildly, rebelling against control and ignoring the perfect flying conditions. The soldiers began to shout and pulled guns from their sides. There was no culprit, no reason, and the helicopter tumbled towards the ground. A shot sounded from someone's itchy trigger finger and fire wormed its way into my leg as the helicopter became a victim of gravity. 0339. My watch blinked futilely and the helicopter buried itself in the ground.
Blackness.

Where is that beeping coming from? I try to open my eyes, but the pain in my leg blurs my sight. My nose reports the smell of blood and anaesthetic. A face melts across my vision.
"Doc, he's awake."
"He shouldn't be." A second face looms into view.
"Hey buddy, you're lucky you survived. Gotta take you into surgery now."
The crash. The crash. I need to know.
"Who?" I croak. They pause. "Who?" The nurse and the doctor share an uncomfortable look, and at last the doctor speaks.
"Tom, Simone, Larry and Ralph didn't make it. I'm so sorry."
The pain in my leg explodes again and a stab enters my arm. My awareness fades and I feel like I'm moving. I feel delirious, on the edge of a hallucination as I float away. Maybe I already am hallucinating. Reality has become a dream…
Is someone singing?