His eyes flashed open. I could see the momentary panic in his eyes as the Spartan tried to figure out where he was. I tried to placate him by saying, "Don't worry Chief. You're safe." He glanced to the side and saw his helmet laying there. He reached for it, slid it on and tried to get up. He made it up to both feet and then collapsed onto one knee, grunting in pain. I tried to push him back down, but there wasn't much I could do against him physically. Instead, I tried using words.

"Chief, you need to rest. That Brute shot bayonet nearly gutted you like fish." As I mentioned it, he glanced down at the combat dressing I had applied to stop the bleeding. There was no doubt in my mind that the only thing that had saved his life was that miraculous armor of his. The wound hadn't been too bad, but he had lost a lot of blood by the time five Marines had dragged him in to our temporary HQ and field hospital.

He looked at me, golden visor reflecting everything going on in the room. I could clearly see myself, grim-streaked, blood-covered face and all. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on behind that emotionless mask of his. Before I could say anything else, he was up on his feet. If he was feeling any pain, he wasn't showing it. He grabbed an assault rifle and a battle rifle off of the weapon racks on the wall, making sure both were fully loaded. He grabbed a handful of magazines for both and, after securing the ammo to his hips and the rifles to his back, he reached for the shotgun that had been beside him and started loading shells into it.

I looked down at the spot where he had just been moments before. His blood hadn't even congealed yet, and there he was, preparing for combat as if nothing had even happened to him! He was half way out the door when I called after him, "Chief, wait!" He turned to face me. "How do you keep going? " I asked him. I realized for the first time that the entire room had fallen silent, all eyes on me. I felt my cheeks and ears flush, but I had to know. He paused for half a minute, but it seemed like an eternity. Eventually, he reached up with his left hand and pulled off his helmet. His deep brown eyes met mine.

"You just have to believe." And off he went, sliding his helmet back on with one hand as he readied his shotgun and walked out the door, the sounds of war swallowing him whole.

The room remained silent for a brief moment, until a Marine cried, "Corpsman!" I rushed over to his side, pulling out a can of biofoam. I pulled the Spike rifle round out of his shoulder and inserted the tip of the biofoam can into the wound. I looked the wounded soldier in the eyes and said, with a genuine smile on my face, "Don't worry Marine, you're going to be okay."

Thanks for reading and please, feel free to leave a review or a comment.