Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Banishment
The commander stepped into the bunker just as the men were preparing to turn in. Looking at their gaunt faces and their thin bodies lying on the cold green sheets, the first thing he thought was "luckily I'm not so bad off". Not repenting, he coldly held out a piece of paper. "We have received intelligence that there are enemy forces approaching the camp. They will be arriving in about two hours; they have sent a recon troop that will arrive in half an hour. I want all of you to dress up and fall in in five minutes. Go!" Turning, he strode out of the room.
***
Within the bunker, the soldiers whispered among themselves, all but for one. Sitting in the corner was Seigfried; although one of the youngest, he was one of the most respected in his platoon, having taken down an entire opposing platoon by himself. He stared at the stone walls, still dressed in just shorts and a sweatshirt; although he looked like stone, his mind was whirring, anger burning his heart and empty stomach. Before that, the platoon had had no dinner, and now, they expected them to fight without fuel. The murmuring within the room increased, most of which was centered around Seigfried. He coldly faced their challenge, ignoring them to the best of his ability. Although he wanted very much to go out and fight and protect his comrades, his body could not will him to do so; in addition, his resentment against his superiors was paramount to the success - he could not afford to get distracted.
***
Five minutes later, Seigfried watched as his comrades fell in. The commander didn't seem to notice one missing soldier among the platoon; maybe he was savoring the feel of success. Not for the first time that evening, he felt anger; anger at the people who didn't understand war, angered at the people who sent thousands of soldiers to their death. The same people who said it was for the sake of the country, but who sat in boardrooms reading the war progress through the papers and radio broadcasts. The same people that he would now rebel against. A command faintly echoed upwards, hitting his ears jarringly; he watched sadly as they marched out to fight the futile battle. He knew that he would not see them alive again, and yet the dignity in which they marched out to their death shocked him - it held resignation, and yet a degree of pride: not for their nation, but for themselves, for sacrificing themselves to save other innocent lives. Seigfried watched as they marched away from the light of the barrack building towards the gates, and out. Even in the darkness, there was a certain sense of honor about them; perhaps it was from their confident posture. He knew how it felt to be out there, in trenches, not knowing when one will die. How it felt to have your legs tremble while you aimed the guns and grenade launchers.
***
"You don't get it!" Seigfried screamed, striding down the corridor alongside the commander; the latter ignored his interjection, instead countering, "You should have left with them." The soldier continued shouting, "Wouldn't you be happy if I went? You could be drinking coffee while we slog our guts out for you!" The commander stopped in his tracks, and stared coldly. "If you love your comrades so much, go and fight for them, alongside them, then."
***
Seigfrid ran along the mud trail, praying to God he would be on time. Ahead, he heard shouts; familiar shouts. Panting, he ran ahead to try and save them; he was fifty meters there when the missile landed. He could visualize the soldiers inside; looking out the trench, and suddenly feeling scorched, feeling their flesh tearing apart. Screaming, he ran towards the dark trench; he could see its inside - it was akin to the depths of Hell. The worst thing - some of them were not dead yet. Their body was still in convulsions, twisting and turning in the limited space of the dark trench. The survivors were grouped up in a corner, but they were all badly burned; their eyes, however, had a sense of light in them - it was as if the soul still existed, even without the flesh. Seigfried looked at all of them, and tried to apologize, but he couldn't speak anything.
Their eyes, however, spoke worlds; every single pair said, kindly, "Even though you didn't come, you still came back. We.... forgive you."
Posted by Denunciator at 7:54 PM