One Year Ago
It must have been around 8:14. I didn't even have the energy to drag myself out of bed. I had just come off a 15-hour journey. You'd think someone would show a little mercy and not summon me this early. I guess I can comfort myself with the fact that the headquarters is nearby. Not that I have much time to waste anyway.
I pulled myself out of bed with great difficulty. I've always had trouble getting up. That may seem like a lack of discipline for someone in the military… and honestly, I wouldn't blame you for thinking that. A guy like me becoming a soldier was mostly out of imitation anyway. My brother isn't like me at all. Influenced by the man who raised us—who carried about 85% of military discipline on his shoulders and whom my brother is practically a clone of (and yes, he's quite proud of that description)—I ended up joining the army. It's not that I regret it exactly…
"Get up, man…" growled my massive brother, standing in front of my bed in just his undershirt. "You're going to be late on your very first day."
"Just five more minutes, man."
"Get up, you slacker," he barked again. "Come on, get up. Don't screw us over on day one."
"Chill for two minutes…"
"You asked for it, dumbass…" he muttered, and then—"That look suits you, Celal… now get up," he chuckled, pouring an entire bucket of water over my head without a second thought.
"Great way to rest, Muzaffer…" I grumbled as I sat up, soaked to the bone. I looked worse than a fish pulled out of the sea."You owe me for this…" I added, trudging toward the sink in the guest room, still dripping wet. It was your classic Third World sink—the kind that's hard to describe but instantly familiar to anyone who's used one. After going through the usual motions, I changed my wet underwear, put on my uniform, and noticed how oddly loose it felt after so long. I struggled to tie my tie in the mirror, then stared at my own reflection. You could read the exhaustion in my eyes. My hair, usually slicked back, was stuck to my forehead in wet clumps. I fixed it hastily, then gave myself a rough shave to get rid of yesterday's stubble.
"We're screwed this time, Celal," Muzaffer muttered as he buttoned his slightly loose jacket. "I don't think we're getting out of this place anytime soon."
"Do you think whining is going to solve anything?" i said.
he murmured. "No, but this place is seriously messed up. They're not letting us go until the war's over. Couldn't they find someone else?"
"You know they just sent us here as punishment. They chose this place on purpose."
"Any chance of a transfer?"
"Doesn't look like it, at least not for now," I replied. Honestly, I hadn't thought much about it. Thinking only made me more anxious. So I'd put it on hold—at least until things settled down. I do that with most things anyway. "In short, give up hope until further notice—unless something extreme happens."
We didn't say much after that. I walked downstairs slowly, still half-asleep. I headed to the mess hall, which was part of the building's old wooden structure, and stuffed something in my mouth just to get by. I've never been big on eating. Maybe that's why I've always been leaner than my brother.