A sudden hard knock on the door broke the silence. Our hearts skipped a beat; we were hoping to hear good news. It was one of Dad’s friends. Mom was perplexed by his presence. Then, a figure approached from behind, walking with a monotonous beat. It was Dad. Both of his legs were somehow…artificial. Depression mixed with happiness flooded our emotions.
Dad and his friend told us everything that night. What happened, who died, his legs… everything that happened in the war. Dad was lucky enough to survive multiple shots from the enemy, leaving huge wounds on his legs so severe that the only option was to amputate them. However, Dad was given a special set of bionic legs from the military for his honorary bravery.
That night, I kept thinking about my Dad. How committed was he towards his job; upholding at his best serving the country. He once said to me, “I hate every second of war, but I will never be satisfied until victory is achieved.” Those words echoed in my mind.
Dad told my mom and me to hide in the basement. I could barely hear the last word when another explosion came. At some point, I saw Dad holding a gun in his bare hands.
A few minutes passed and the whole place was filled with silence. Then, the main door banged open and in a split second I could hear gunshots fired. Then, I saw Dad. He was sitting against the wall, looking very weak. I approached him, aware that all enemies were dead. Dad’s body was bloody and bullet holes pierced his chest. In his faintest voice ever, he managed to say “Be strong…”. His eyes then closed slowly.
HE was a true hero. He is my hero.