Not all veterans are old; some are young, very young.
He was 18 when he joined the army. He was 20 when he learned driving the vehicles. He was 20 when he went to Afghanistan. He knows there were mines and suicide bombings; but those were things which happen to others. When he said bye to his mom and his girlfriend; he told them: Do not cry; I will be fine. He was 21 when he drove on a mine. He was spending weeks in a maze, sedated; but the pain came through. When he woke up in the ICU; he told his mom and his girlfriend: Do not cry; I will be fine. Hi kept a stern face when his girlfriend left. She could not bear the pressure to spend the rest of her life with a wounded warrior. When he woke late at night, his face was wet with tears. Waves of loss, grief and anger over rolled his maimed body; but when his mom came on the next day he said: Mom; do not cry. I will be fine. He is 24 now, he had learned to use his mechanical arm and walk on his prostheses. He dos sports. Do not cry; he will be fine, will he? His wounds are not bleeding anymore; but there are wounds, which never heal, the wounds of the soul. The wounds you do not see are the worse.

[The story is based on reality. Names are not made public, to protect privacy]

The picture is a collage of seven digital scratches and paintings I did for a work in progress, dedicated to the Wounded Warrior Project. Some colors of the original paintings were changed to make them compatible. A couple of filters were used for the same reason.