Spring Loaded

Today is my 14th birthday. At 9:00 pm this evening I will smoke my last cigarette. Then I will do what my heart tells me I must.

It has been a month since the start of the invasion, and still the people resist.

Everything is ready. I am ready - or as ready as one can be. I will dress all in black. And I have boot polish for my face and hands. I will be like a shadow in the shadows. I will take my rifle and the three molotov cocktails already packed into my school satchel. If I am caught out after curfew I will be shot, but this is my city. I know every building, every alley-way and back street. All of the bridges are guarded, so I will cross the river by boat, and make my way to the old town square. There are soldiers there, with tanks. I will blow up the tanks. Kill as many of the soldiers as I can. I will shoot until I run out of bullets. All but one. One I will keep for myself.

Whatever happens, I will not let them take me alive.

I have no family. There will be no one to mourn me. But, I hope, there might be someone who remembers how I died - defending my country.

It is the 21st of September, 1968. For me there will be no tomorrow.