Ahhh, the noble medic, I salute each and every one. They have my back, they patch me up; they heal my wounds in the heat of battle before I’ve even called out in pain. There is rarely time for politeness or even acknowledgment of their efforts, for a good medic goes unnoticed, never needing to be asked for help, never expecting reward or thanks. They choose to support, to provide assistance to those assaulting on the front line. While we battle for survival, for glory and respect, they ensure that we succeed.

We shall fight, we shall prevail.
We shall fight, we shall prevail.

Blood and dust fill my eyes. Bodies litter the ground around me. I stop firing, the smoke from my rifle is suffocating. As I regain my awareness I realise I have done little to slow the advancement of the enemy troops. My impulsive, instinctive commando ways no longer overshadow the urge to stay alive. With a last desperate surge of energy I almost blindly hurl a grenade into the opposing forces. Amidst screams and explosions, through buildings caving in around me I run, hurriedly falling behind cover,my heart beating, my breath short. I have done what I needed to do, I have fulfilled my purpose – attack. But it is too late for me, I’ve taken too much damage, I have risked my life to contribute to the win only to fall to the single bullet of an unobserved foe, my recklessness has inevitably seen my end.

Gamerscore means nothing on the battlefield.

As the world fades away, I feel almost as if I am hovering above the carnage. Peaceful and reflective, considering my mistakes, what I’d do differently if I was to have another chance. If only I’d moved more quickly, or maybe hung back paying more attention, perhaps given more thought to the vehicles that batter their way through hostile villages and bases only to be destroyed by a grunt with an RPG. Thoughts scramble through my mind, it’s all a blur. I hear my squadmates’ voices… shouting… footsteps and suddenly, I see a bright flash of light! The medic, the saviour, has revived me!

A knowing glance may be all that’s exchanged. We both know the possible significance of this moment, every warrior counts, every soldier has within them the potential to turn the tide of the war. There will be no recovery, no health check; the trauma of near death must be shaken off immediately. I pick up my weapon, wipe the sweat from my brow and charge back into the carnage, leaving the medic to tend to the next patient, with little more than the knowledge that they have played their part, helped out our side, and gained a hell of a lot of XP!







3 responses to “MEDIC!”

  1. Simon avatar

    Medics pick me up, stick a plaster on my boo-boo, give it a kiss, wipe my tears from my cheeks and then send me skipping along on my way.


  2. Markatansky avatar

    I <3 Medics.

  3. DelTorroElSorrow avatar

    “Gamerscore means nothing on the battlefield.”

    Okay Solid Snake.

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