Thursday, XXXX
We reclaimed the town. At what we are supposed to call 'Minimum Casualty.' I wish this would stop. We can hear townfolk crying, in sorrow and in fear. There are headless bodies and bodiless heads, and these... these are mere boys. And now... now I am a soldier - I either carry out orders, or abort them. It is not pleasant, either of them, but the likelihood of my own surviving is greater for the former. Does that justify the shower of death- dealing sparks that light up the sky at night?
Remember that one time we snuck out to watch the fireworks on New Year's Eve, and your Ma and mine hiked up their skirts and dragged us home? My ear still rings from that tongue lashing. They were good times - I spent them with you - and glowing, sparkling, cracking lights were not the harbingers of death.
We have settled on the outskirts tonight. It appears I look especially maudlin these days, and my friends urge me to partake in an assortment of activities that would have my grandma come back from the dead. No one says anything now. There is still the feeling of receding adrenaline, and the silence settles oppressively after several rounds of firefight. Even the air reeks of gunpowder, though we camped as far from the battleground as possible.
Unni is sniffling - he has caught a cold - and I fear he will go down with pneumonia. I remember your frail body trembling with feverish shivers. Surely, it won't turn that bad. There is no medicine, and hot water is a luxury we cannot afford to expect. Anyhow, we are stopping at the town next, mayhaps they will have a pharmacy.
Stay safe, dear one. Keep your eyes closed and fingers crossed, and this too shall pass.
Sincerely yours,
The Soldier.
YOU ARE READING
At War
Romance"Revenge by young men is considered victory, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose know better." -Chief Seattle This is an anti- war epistolary novella written for ONC 2022. Prompts 5 and...
