The Rwandan Rescue

This story is based on the events of the Rwandan Genocide, however, all characters in this story are purely fictional.

Day 1
Suddenly, everyone was pushed out of the truck. We didn’t know what to do, and we never received a mission briefing. Wandering around, I tried to see what we could do next, but to no avail. Then we heard it- loud screams and gunshots fired into the air. I knew the Interhamwe was coming. I could hear my fellow teammates, nervous about the outcome of the horrible scene we were about to experience. However, the Interhamwe passed by, too busy hurting people to notice us. From then on I finally knew what my mission was: to save these innocent people from a horrible fate. I was about to do things people only did in stories, and it excited me. However, I realized I was being foolish. Why get excited when people were getting killed by the minute?

Seconds later, my best friend Tom, also in the UN came and spoke to me. “Frank, you must know right know that we can not do anything. Even if we could, what point would we make if we confront them? None of us are allowed to shoot!”

“I know,” I replied. What else could I say?

Day 2
Heading out the next day was difficult. Not because of pain, because I didn’t want to know what was going to happen. Reluctantly, I went outside from the building. I went to search for Tom. If I learned anything from him, it was friends look out for each other, even in dark times. If I was going to die today, my last vision would might as well be a friend. I climbed into the truck with Tom, and waited.

Halfway down the road, I decided to give myself my own mission: find any people on the RPF and convince them to help us.

“How?” I asked myself. “Rescuing any survivors and bringing them to safety,” my own mind replied.

I set out as soon as the truck stopped. As I explored, I heard cries. The Interhamwe had somehow heard about our appearance, and I think they wanted to check us out.

“Why?” I thought. “Don’t ask too many questions, just find cover,” I replied to myself again. So I took cover in a partially caved-in building. The Interhamwe passed by, and as soon as they did, I heard a whimper. It was a young boy in tattered clothes. Hiding with him was his mom and dad.

“You are not from this country,” said the dad.

“No, I am not. I was sent here for who knows why, but it has been my goal since today to help any Tutsi survivors. Are you Tutsi?” I asked.

They nodded.

“Ok, I think the coast is clear. Get in the truck; they won’t know you’ll be there.”

Before we got on, the dad said, “My brother is in the RPF, I am sure he will save us.”

“Tell me more about how the RPF will arrive. If I have to save you, I need to know how to escort you to safety.”

Day 3
Yesterday, the dad told me all about how the RPF were planning to enter, or at least that’s what he heard among the other Tutsis. I came up with a plan that night, and discussed it with my comrades today. They agreed to the terms, and I hoped it would be a piece of cake.

Going down the middle of the road, I knew I spoke, or rather thought, too soon. The place had around 50 Interhamwe men (or boys) loitering around the place.

“Tom,” I whispered. “Isn’t this place damaged enough? Why bother sticking around?”

“I think they’re checking for survivors.” he whispered back.

Well, whatever the case, I had to continue. This was the direct path to the border. We tried to sneak by, but I was spotted. They fired their guns, and I knew that I was about to die. I closed my eyes, waiting for pain to strike trough me. However, nothing happened. I opened my eyes to find that Tom had blocked all the shots that were aimed at me. The Interhamwe had left because another guy, Paul, shot warning bullets. I felt tears going to my eyes.

“Frank...” Tom moaned.

“What is it buddy?” I asked.

“Don’t give up... you’re almost there. I just wanted to say... good... job and good bye...” and with those last words he was dead.

I went on my knees, crying.

Paul noticed and came up to me. “You know Frank, I know you would like to mourn, to bury Tom, and maybe even get revenge. I do not know, but what I do know is this. Don’t give up, and do not pity the dead, because the dead have died for a reason. They died to protect, to love, to hate, and all other emotions you could think of. Tom died for you, because he knew you knew what you were doing. Don’t give up hope yet, we have a mission to finish."

“I know...” I replied. I got up, and set out to the border to meet the RPF. Millions of men could fight in this war, but I knew I had to be the one who ended it. I was put in this war for a reason: to fight.

Neobender85 18:09, July 20, 2010 (UTC)