“The scar wounds precisely corresponded to the positions of the stars in the constellation of the plough” said Ashlynn looking at her partner Lieutenant Garcia. The joints in her body felt numb for pain, black spots began to cover her vision as she hit the hard muddy ground beneath her. Even through the excruciating pain in her chest, she managed to say,” we’ll make it.” 

The sound of gunshots echoed and the smell of bloody corpses rotting on the battlefield were seared into their brains. The amount of deaths they had seen would scar them for a lifetime. As the night faded into a blur, so did their hopes of ever meeting their families again. It had been a few hours, when they had just been standing up, that another arrow hit Ashlynn. It had come roaring through the morning air and struck her between her ribs, tearing through the flesh. She grabbed the three and a half foot high sandbag barricade in front of them, as she felt the feeling drain out of her feet and legs from the waist down. She yelled, “I’m hit,” and the only thought that kept her going was that she did not want to die there. Garcia grabbed her and said, “they’ve gone, I’ve got you, let’s go fast, we have to make it to the cave where the rescue team will come.” 

Ashlynn knew if she went down, she would never get up, but she had to try.  What had started as a cold war with Iraq, ended up with all roads and walls painted in blood. The backup team was supposed to come to rescue  them that day., and take them, alive or dead. The next time Ashlynn opened her eyes, she found herself on a bed next to Garcia’s, with all sorts of tubes attached to her body, Garcia opened her eyes and looked at Ashlynn, “we made it, we made  it alive.” And even though they had bruises and scars on their face, they managed to put up a smile.