"A Soldier's Epiphany"

All around the sounds of battle could be heard as soldiers raced across the open field to reach safe ground. The missiles, sailing like darts through the air above the soldier's head reminded him of fireworks, and of the Fourth of July when he was a boy, watching the brilliant night sky light up with colors, so many that he could hardly count them all. All the while his family, gathered for this rare occasion, cuddled up with each other on a large blanket in the middle of the park near their house. Even if it was only for a night, they could be a happy family, underneath the stars, sharing the experience together. Another explosion on the horizon brought the soldier back to reality and he watched, with fearful eyes, like a boy watching his nightmares come true. It wasn't half wrong, really. The soldier really was no more than a boy still, only 18 years old with a whole life ahead, waiting for him. He recalled, now, how only a few weeks earlier, he'd have given anything to be here, experiencing the battlefield for himself, bravely standing up for his rights, fighting for his family and for his country. It should have been a great honor to be here, battling to protect the United States of America like his fellow comrades. So why, then, did he not want to be here now? Another soldier jumped up from the ditch which he had been hiding in along with the young man and set off at a quickened pace, making his way to the other side of the field, where he would be safe for the meantime. The soldier watched in horror as he was assaulted by weaponfire and missiles the entire way, but the man managed to make it to the other side unharmed. The soldier's company was risking their lives here, on the outskirts of enemy territory, to get where they needed to be. Nearly a quarter of his company hadn't made it across the field in one piece. Either they were shot down by the German soldiers, caught in the barbed wire fences constructed around the perimeter, or taken by a missile or land mine. The entire day had been nothing more than bullets, explosions, blood and horrific images of people he knew being torn to pieces before his eyes. The terror was so extreme, so real, that he wasn't sure if he could take the pain anymore. Frightened and disturbed, the solider sank to his knees in the muddy dirt at the bottom of the ditch. No one noticed or said anything to him until a hand tapped him on the shoulder. "All right, kid. It's your turn to go now. Do you think you're ready to do this?" The lieutenant asked the soldier, looking him in the eye. The soldier met the older man's gaze and nodded dumbly, not speaking. The lieutenant, seeing the boy's plight, set his lips in a straight line. "See those trees over there to the left?" The soldier nodded. "All right, if you go through them, run straight to the other side, and don't stop for anything, you should get through this OK." "OK." The soldier swallowed, getting a drowning feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Hey," The lieutenant turned the soldier to face him. "This your first time on the battlefield?" Again the young man nodded. "That's OK. You'll get there just fine. Just don't stop for anything, you hear me? You can do this." The lieutenant pushed a rifle into the boy's hands. "You know how to use one of these?" He asked, noting the soldier's awkward stance, holding the weapon like it was a bomb. "Yes. They taught us everything we need to know." Again the soldier's appearances mocked that of a child's -- a young boy who had just been handed something that was much too heavy for him to hold. It even felt heavy in his hands, weighing him down to the muddy ground. Yes, he knew how to use the rifle, but he had yet to experience the necessity to use one on another person. "Hey, kid, it takes great courage to do something like this, you know. We're in a very dangerous situation and there's a lot of risk involved. If you don't think you can do this, just tell me so." "I can do this." The soldier said a little unsteadily. "OK, go on, then. Remember, go through the trees over there." The young man tightened his grip on the gun, took a deep breath as if it would give him the courage he needed to do this, and in one swift motion, heaved himself out of the ditch. And in an instant, the world was a whole new, vast and ugly place. Being on ground level gave him an entirely new perspective of the battle -- one he did not care to witness for long. 'You're doing this for your country.' He thought. 'You're doing this for the American people.' With a renewed desire to succeed, the soldier took off from his position, heading for the trees as the lieutenant had suggested. Behind him were the sounds of battle and all around him was killing and defeat and blood, so much blood. The dirt had been stained a crimson color from the blood spilled at all the battles that had taken place here. Only ahead, in the ravine where the rest of his company waited, could the soldier see a faint ray of hope waiting for him. He darted into the wooded area, ducking to get past low tree branches, and dodging the little shrubbery that was there. Halfway to the ravine, the soldier was flung backwards onto the ground by the butt of a German rifle that had hit him under the chin. He landed in the dirt on his back, only to look up at the German soldier that had put him there. He must have been young, not much older than the soldier, actually, but ahead of him by a few years. The boy rubbed his chin, choking at the bruise that was starting to form, and watched in horror as the other man raised his rifle at him. The soldier had always expected to see his life flashing before his eyes at a moment like this, but contrary to popular belief, no flashbacks came. All that he could see at that moment was death and blood -- the blood of his fallen comrades, lost in the battle, his first -- and what looked like his last -- battle. But in that same moment, a feeling of adamant vigor -- the strength to live which he didn't even know he possessed -- helped the boy to grasp his weapon with both hands and, from his position on the ground, aim it at the German soldier. His nimble fingers found the trigger... and pulled. The other man was caught off guard, blasted backwards by the force of the shot, and he landed on the ground with a thud that the boy could hear even past all the turmoil around him. He had shot someone. His first bullet expended from his first weapon in his first battle. He'd never really thought about what it would be like to shoot someone until now, and he was surprised at the feeling of dread that washed over him just now. Still rubbing his neck, the soldier remembered that the lietenant had warned him not to stop and he pulled himself off the ground. There lay the enemy soldier at his feet, not looking so tough or fierce anymore, just looking like a wounded animal. His hands, stained red with the blood that was seeping through his fingers, grasped his neck. The piece of shrapnel from the soldier's gun had torn an artery in his throat and he was slowly bleeding to death. At that moment, everything the soldier had been told about battle, about the glory of war, was flung away like worthless trash. So this was what war really was... killing in cold blood and hurting other people. To prove what? That you were better than someone else? Standing there, in between two oak trees and in the middle of the battle, the soldier couldn't for the life of himself figure out what the point of fighting was. Where was the glory in this? In causing suffering? The German soldier lay on the ground, a new blood stain being added to the earth where it formed a puddle beneath his head. As he stared up at the soldier with frightened, regretful eyes, he stopped shivering and lay still. Horrified, it was the American soldier's turn to shudder at the wide eyes of the dead soldier at his feet, hands limp near his neck, piercing blue eyes still open and staring but seeing nothing. What had he done? He would get to the other side, the soldier resolved. He would go there and he would tell his comrades to lay down their arms, to show the German soldiers that they did not want to fight. He would show them all the evils of war and he would convince them to get along. It didn't have to be this way. People didn't have to die without cause. He would convince everyone of that, he told himself, he would show the world that-- At that moment, the soldier felt a tug at the back of his neck. It was just a quick jerk, just a slight stab of pain that lasted only a second, before he felt himself falling to the ground. Just as he hit the dirt, the pain exploded in his brain, travelling all the way down his spine, covering every inch of his body. Such immense pain... the boy struggled to stay awake. He had to... he had to tell the other soldiers that they should stop fighting. If he could just pick himself up off the ground and make it to the ravine, he could tell them that what they were doing was pointless. He began to move his arm but found that he really couldn't make it go anywhere. It just lay limp and motionless at his side, rendered useless by the bullet that had entered the back of his neck and shattered his entire spinal cord. The German soldier that the boy hadn't even seen, hiding in the bushes nearby, took little notice of the young soldier as he moved on to fight and die for a cause he probably didn't understand himself. The soldier found the strength, in that moment, to turn his head to the left. Beside him lay the German soldier he had killed with his own weapon. The soldier managed to move his hand only slightly, but it was enough to grasp the other man's hand in his own, gripping it tightly in a bond which the other man would never know, before going completely lax. The soldier lay his head down in the dirt, crimson with his own blood this time, and listened as the wailing missiles again morphed into fireworks, brilliant and beautiful in the night sky, before he closed his eyes. And all around him, the battle raged on.