The Other Side of War

I slid behind one of numerous boulders, clutching the body of my M-16 as bullets bombard my barricade. The Lieutenant crouches a few yards away behind his own rocky fortifications, but we’re all that’s left. I think. I don’t know. It’s hard to know anything when you’re caught in the middle of an ambush.

My name is Jonathan Briggs. I’ve been shot, once in the left shoulder and a graze to the right ear but nothing lethal. My comrades have fallen and the enemy is forcing me towards a narrow passageway where I’m sure unconstitutional torture will be waiting for me. Laws are forgone on the battlefield though, as in love.

I’ve forgotten why I volunteered for this mission, why we’re even fighting our sallow faced brothers on this foreign terrain. This will be my resting place. It’s two versus hundreds and reinforcements are lifetimes away. Sweat rushes from my brow and pools into my lap, collecting the secrets of the world and the dust from my khakis. If only this powdery grime could speak, what tales it could weave. Stories of beauty, peace and foolish mistake of war only man would be witless enough to repeat. How did we get to the point where words can no longer solve our disputes? Why are we so quick to take up arms against each other and a simple discussion never presented as an option? If we cannot live together in harmony, why not live separately, peacefully?

I suppose those that sent us here aren’t bothered by such trivial questions, but when you’re squatting behind a rock weighing futile options, your mortality really comes into focus. I’ve been misled by a man who has never served his country, who would never taint those well-manicured nails with a dirty trigger and now my life is sacrificed. My son will grow to know his father only through stories and my wife will relive my demise through endless nights of fright. Our self-proclaimed leader has so willingly destroyed the lives of millions, yet he lives his as if nothing has changed. Change. Wasn’t that what he promised?

Well if he’s not going to transform our country, I will. I give a “well, this is it” shrug to my companion and gingerly expose myself to enemy fire, gun raised.

“Why are we doing this?” I yell to no one. “Why are we fighting each other as puppets, when the real enemy is behind our own lines!” My voice is horse, probably from dehydration, but I persist, “I don’t want to hurt you.” I cough as I struggle to project my proclamation and it feels as though my throat is tearing out itself. There are only two options, death being the most likely, but the eerie silence is oddly comforting. The burning is insatiable and just as I become painfully aware of my other wounds, there’s rustling from the forests in the distance. A man clad in black appears, weapon raised.

“You right,” he screams back in broken English, “no fight. No more. We help, you help.” Relieved and awestruck, I began the arduous decent from my rocky defenses and the man met me at the bottom of the slope. As we drew closer, I surveyed him. This man couldn’t have been more than a private. “Malc” was scratched into the side of his gun; maybe it was a name, or a code, but it didn’t really matter. Haggard, thirsty, and desperate for an end to the violence he didn’t understand; he was my fellow man. He revealed crooked teeth as smiled, outstretching his hand which I received graciously. I hadn’t seen such joy in months, in ever.

One shot rang out that afternoon, the shot that will ring forever. My faithless comrade took aim at my newly formed alliance and left any hope of a peaceful resolution scattered about in the dirt. As I wiped the backlash of blood from my face, I whipped around to face the Lieutenant who remained in position. The world flashed that day, like when a CD skips on an old boom box. Bullets streamed from the forest, some whizzing past my head, obviously meant for murder on the rocks, then some struck me as well: a few in the legs, a couple in the arms, one in the chest.

I don’t know if he survived.

I never asked.

I still don’t care.

A son still has his father and most of a husband came home to his wife, but the life I knew, the future I hoped for, bled out next to the last ally. Everything has changed, as promised.