fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about the military and the physical, logistical, emotional and moral obstacles involved.
The Citizen Journalist
For Nour, technology was critical, but there was only power for a few hours a day at most, and online she was hunted and traceable. She frowned wondering how much they knew - she wasn’t a big fish, but she wasn’t small fry either, people had been killed for less. Right now the roads out were kill zones, bombed alleys of death, then there was Aleppo city, now home, being pummelled by the Syrian regime, with it’s Russia Hezbollah ‘Axis’, fighting rebel and religious factions, the civilians, forever in the crossfire, now huddled together at night, with the eerie advantage of understanding exactly what lingered in the skies above. Barrel bombs - oil drums and fuel tanks filled with explosives and metal fragments fell from helicopters with indiscriminate targets. Cluster munitions with their baby bomblet cargos and white phosphorous, rained down, targeted hits on hospitals and aid convoys, all apparently illegal internationally, it was 2016, after five years of war the whole world knew what was happening in Syria - Nour could never understand why nobody made it stop.
By Rebecca Smith5 years ago in Serve
Memory of Something Almost Lost
The crooked smile of a crescent moon hung over the gutted skeleton of the place once called ‘Boston’. Even at this hour Rusty could hear the shrieks of the things that still lived here but they were far enough into the Commons now to safely make camp.
By Stan Toyne5 years ago in Serve
Inside Leningrad, 1941
PROLOGUE 21ST, JULY, 1941. The overwhelming sense of air that had been thrown off of it’s course made itself far from silently known, as it passed by the once muffled eardrums of a courted soldier, lining his back up behind the substantial bags of sand that seemed to become their fortified blockages over time of what was genuine defense being used for the centric blockades around the city. Though, it seemed to be what he once mistook for the angers of Mother Nature, were the graces of lead that their rival formalities found so comforting in their times of need. With the quick motion that ducked his head behind the fortifications, he instinctively courted the rackety SVT-40 of a fallen comrade closer to his chest-- a quick breath in, and a longer one out-- bringing him back from the chastise of slowed fantasy, and into reality.
By Tyler Barry5 years ago in Serve
A room on the Moika
The room was filled with the sweet smell of candle smoke. Despite the tall, broken windows offering grandiose views of decorated façades across the Moika’s frozen waters, the high-ceilinged room was dark. The sun had set long before dinnertime, and Oleg’s candle was the sole source of light.
By Sébastien Mouret5 years ago in Serve
Over the Panj
“What do you know about Matthew McCann, Lieutenant?” Lt. William Fox heard the colonel’s voice over the shouting gale of the wind and the propellers. He held onto the strap above, by now all too used to the heat and the dry air that buffeted into the helicopter.
By Gordon Hawkins5 years ago in Serve
100 Little Black Books
Mrs. Bernice Pink always carried her little back notebook with her wherever she went. Even her husband Chester, known to all as "Chester Pink the Mattress King," couldn't pry that little book out of her thin, pale hands that very special sultry evening in Chicago when he knelt on one knee with a heartfelt proposal at their favorite Italian restaurant.
By Melissa G Wilson5 years ago in Serve
Disillusionment
The dark splodges of ink sprawled across the pages of the journal arrest my attention. Pitch black, their meaning engulfs me and I marvel at their dazzling intensity and depiction of the horrors and triumphs of war, exuding sorrow, hardship, loss and suffering. As my eyes hungrily devour each syllable on the page, I am swept away by the depths of its message, transformed by its profundity. Inexplicable darkness pervades it, yet it is laced with hope, the simple musings of a young man caught in the throes of war.
By Tahlia Hunter5 years ago in Serve
The Desert Raid
A short story based on a dream I had Maxwell turned his head to look at everyone in the hanger. 150, 200 people, he reckoned. He still couldn’t believe he formed a team this big to go after his goal, a goal that became shared, a goal that was about to be achieved… Of that, he had no doubt!
By Gabriel Mohr5 years ago in Serve
