Esta es mi participación en el #concurso: Continua... la historia 23 de abril de 2022 de la @freewritehouse.
This is my entry in the #contest: Continue... the story 23 April 2022 from the @freewritehouse.
Fuente
Promesa incierta
Conservaba la imagen de su madre, un rostro firme pero lleno de lágrimas, grabada en su mente con hierro de marcar. El dolor de una despedida que anticipaba la muerte era para él como prolongar la fatalidad sin tener ningún respiro.
—Te prometo que volveré, sano y completo —dijo con gentileza.
—No prometas en vano, no ha regresado el primero con vida de esa maldita guerra —replicó la madre limpiando sus lágrimas.
El joven bajó la cabeza, avergonzado y al contemplar las manos envejecidas de su madre, aquellas manos que tanto trabajaran para darle un futuro a él y a sus hermanos, dijo con una renovada esperanza:
—Yo sí volveré, mamá.
Esa noche no habían podido dormir, el ruido de la metralla y las explosiones de los morteros los obligaba a retroceder, ya eran dos noches en esa situación, tenían que alejarse si querían seguir con vida, ahora todos entendían que era necesario para poder regresar.
—¡Ayúdame José! — escuchó, estaba adormecido, pero se preparaba para continuar su marcha atrás, los párpados le dolían por el esfuerzo sometido, volvió a escuchar el llamado de auxilio, buscó y se acordó de su compañero Albert, que hasta ese momento se había convertido en un amigo inseparable.
—¿Dónde estás? — dijo casi por inercia y la voz lo fue guiando.
Se habían quedado dormidos, agazapados entre las raíces de un árbol, a su lado Albert deliraba por el dolor y la fiebre, producida por una herida infectada. El sacó la vieja fotografía dónde su madre le sonreía y recordaba aquella promesa, dónde le dijo que él regresaría para continuar su vida familiar con ella y sus hermanos, lo que no quería era regresar estirado en un cajón. No importaba si el miedo le partía la piel o hería su orgullo de hombre, miraba los ojos de su madre en aquella fotografía donde no había lágrimas, por eso le pedía que no se involucrara en sus recuerdos.
Le parecía un sueño verse volar en aquel helicóptero que lo alejaban de aquel campo de pesadillas. Solo recordaba sombras fugaces que corrían en auxilio luego de haber soltado la última bengala.
Cuando abrió los ojos, vio Albert a un lado, vio que le habían amputado la pierna y aun así, le sonreía.
—Me salvaste amigo, me van a mandar a casa.
José apretó la fotografía de su madre con fuerza y Albert creyó en una alegría súbita cuando vio las lágrimas de su amigo, se imaginó una dicha expresada de tal manera al saber aquella noticia, pero José miraba el rostro de su madre en ese rostro que también se despedía con sonrisas, aunque su cuerpo llegara incompleto.
Albert le tomó de la mano y le dijo:
— Nos vemos en el pueblo, allá te esperaré.
José sintió la mano de su madre encallecida por el tiempo, no se atrevió a decir nada de aquella vergüenza que le hizo bajar su cabeza, ahora se repetía frente a su amigo, pero no dijo nada, las palabras se escondieron y no pudo hallarlas.
Escuchó el llamado de la trompeta que fue como abrir un portal al miedo, a la promesa incierta, solo apretó la mano de su amigo y dejó caer la fotografía.
En ese momento un oficial llamó
—¡Soldado José preséntese a filas!
—¡Si mi capitán!
Uncertain promise
He kept the image of his mother, a firm face but full of tears, engraved in his mind with a branding iron. The pain of a farewell that anticipated death was for him like prolonging doom without respite.
—I promise you I will come back, whole and well, — he said gently.
—Don't promise in vain, he's not the first one back alive from that damned war, —replied his mother, wiping away her tears.
The young man lowered his head in shame and as he looked at his mother's aged hands, those hands that had worked so hard to give him and his brothers a future, he said with renewed hope:
—I will come back, mama.
That night they had not been able to sleep, the noise of the shrapnel and the explosions of the mortars forced them to turn back, it was already two nights in that situation, they had to move away if they wanted to stay alive, now they all understood that it was necessary to be able to return.
—Help me, José! — he heard, he was numb, but he was getting ready to continue his march back, his eyelids ached from the effort, he heard the call for help again, he looked for and remembered his companion Albert, who until that moment had become an inseparable friend.
—Where are you? —he said almost by inertia, and the voice-guided him.
They had fallen asleep, crouched in the roots of a tree, beside him Albert was delirious with pain and fever, caused by an infected wound. He pulled out the old photograph where his mother smiled at him and remembered that promise, where she told him that he would return to continue his family life with her and his brothers, what he didn't want was to return stretched out in a drawer. It didn't matter if the fear broke his skin or hurt his pride as a man, he looked at his mother's eyes in that photograph where there were no tears, that's why he asked her not to get involved in his memories.
It seemed like a dream to him to see himself flying in that helicopter that took him away from that field of nightmares. He only remembered fleeting shadows running to his aid after the last flare had been released.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Albert to one side, he saw that his leg had been amputated, and yet he was smiling at him.
—You saved me mate, they're sending me home.
Joseph squeezed his mother's photograph tightly and Albert believed in a sudden joy when he saw his friend's tears, he imagined a joy expressed in such a way when he heard the news, but Joseph looked at his mother's face on that face that also said goodbye with smiles, even though her body was incomplete.
Albert took him by the hand and said:
— See you in town, I'll wait for you there.
José felt his mother's hand calloused by time, he dared not say anything about that shame that made him lower his head, now repeated in front of his friend, but he said nothing, the words were hidden and he could not find them.
He heard the trumpet call that was like opening a portal to fear, to uncertain promise, he just squeezed his friend's hand and dropped the photograph.
At that moment an officer called out
—Soldier José report for duty!
—Yes, Captain!
*** Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) ***
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