APAC 2010: Healing the Mental Scar

It has almost been a month since the man returned from his heartbreaking quest, weary he was, frustrated and shattered even much more. Recuperating physically was swift but healing the mental scar... has been slow and painful but maybe revealling...

The journey had been a long and winding ever since he strapped up the stick sword and ball shield. The first few years had been more of a learning curve, gaining experience and building confidence, all working towards the recent one, the real deal, for the cause(s). No more exposure but of expectation!

for ourselves? for each other? for the flag? or for the future?

All was not well, years of tumbling in the dog fights and hellish training have taken toll on the already fragile body. By the time the wounds healed and the aches faded, there was almost not enough opportunities to rediscover the battling touch and rebuild the crumbling confidence. The delayed in equipment parts certainly added troubles to already troubled times. As the saying goes, The Sword is the Warriors' Soul. Having to settle for someone else's gear certainly did not boosted him.

so much gear in the armoury, none of the man.

As the eve draws near, it was a strong faced mask hiding a fragile soul. The last training and the last chance to recapture the warriors' fighting spirit was to no avail. Too long has the limbs been rested, too long has the heart not pumping that hard and too frightened the man was to push the limit fearing new injuries. By the time he travelled with wings to the battlefield, all the man had was a unfit body with a timid mind holding the scattered pieces frantically together as one.

The inevitable happened inevitably.
Old wounds were fine as the tight bandages held firm, but came along new ones, on the foot. Sharp pain pierces through the nerves with every jerking move with the side of the foot banging on the shoes footgear, footgear that might have expired unknowing or naively as expected with such extensive usage.

the war horn blown, it is time.

Bad things suddenly took the turn for the worst. Unable to compete to becoming a casualty of war. The feeling of gazing on towards the battlefield for aside, watching companions fall one by one , fighting losing battles and having to muster every ouch of strength left to roar out, trying to motivate them was far more painful than succumbing to defeat by fighting along side them.

Ugly scenes did occur along the campaign, especially when facing defeat, even more so when the enemy gains unfair lucky advantage on the field. Tired minds fuels temper, tempers ignites fire resulting to bust outs. The man had exchanges with companions and even the commanding officers, his urge to fight held back by the unable physique has clouded his judgement and although he meant good, it was unwise of him speaking his mind out at difficult times. The man acknowledges that and apologized for any confrontation that might have cause unintended misunderstanding.

In the end, it was a humiliating defeat for the man and his company. The campaign was planed but unfortunately not well planned enough, or the enemy was more well prepared, or the warriors were incapable to carry out the plan, or it was everything. One thing the man knew that his time is near the end, maybe it has already ended but he refuses to accept that fact. The man also knows that his generation will continue to struggle in coming battles and it would be wise to avoid it until remedies has been taken to strengthen their position significantly.

time to call it a day?

Cowardice? Maybe, but the man like others of his generation, being forerunners, has wander down the rocky path. A path carved open through blood, sweat and disappointment of the man and his fellow comrades. A path he wishes not future comers to venture, they shouldn't share the same fate. Therefore, things must be done before they march to battle once more. A new breed of warriors must be recruited, groomed and tattooed with battle scars before thrown into the unforgiving battlefield.

The man has decide. He has now chosen his path at the crossroad, to journey towards rebuilding. He hopes that his past, sufferings and triumphs; knowledge and wisdom will be of use, past down, inherit and redefine by the upcoming crops of youngsters to build a better tomorrow and someday, maybe, emerge victorious in the battlefield and conquering the world.

He shall not fail this time.

Or at least he hopes not too...

the blood, the sweat, the disappointment.