It All Came Falling Down

three

    As I neared the top of the stairs that led to the second floor, I caught sight of a door slam shut immediately and rapidly. “Over here!” I yelled to my partner.
    Jorlan came up from behind and breached the wooden door to the space I was about to clear. 
    “Don’t move!” I ordered the old woman in the black scarf, who knew by then she could not get away. I approached her, and grabbing her by the shoulder, I slammed her onto the floor. I bent her arms backwards and held her down. She didn’t even bother to struggle free. 
    “Who are you? Why did you run?” My partner began to interrogate as I kept pressure on her. The woman did not answer. 
    “Answer my questions!” he demanded. There was still only silence. Jorlan pushed me off of her, and pulling her by the hair, he brought the woman up to her feet. “Alright then. Listen up! You think my buddy and I want to be here? Huh? We came from far away to help and liberate you people, and all you do is probably shelter Resistance fighters or plan the next attack!” He slammed a punch into her stomach, causing her to groan and spit out blood. “You better answer my question before I kill you!” He threatened before shoving the lady onto a nearby sofa and pointed his gun directly at her. 
    “Comrade, that’s not necessary—” I began.
    “Shut the hell up, Kanston!” he said angrily. “It’s either they die or we die. Which choice do you prefer?”
    “Answer his questions, please,” I spoke calmly and slowly, in her native language, trying to remember some of the words I had learned.
    Jorlan hit her in the side of the skull with the butt of his rifle before dragging her unconscious body onto the floor. He went on top of her and punched her continuously in the face until he screamed loudly. The old woman’s face was battered and barely recognisable after the beating.
    I tapped my partner on his shoulder. “Let’s go. We’ll clear out the rest of this building to make sure everything else is okay and find out what we can. Hey, do you hear me? Let’s go!” 
    He stood back up and nodded. “Fine by me. I’m done,” he said, taking a breath of anger.
    For the next twenty to thirty minutes, the two of us took turns kicking down doors to empty apartments or surprising residents who did not expect soldiers to break open their entrances. By then, although I still felt guilty about shooting the teenager, part of me began to reflect. Maybe Jorlan was right about one thing: this was war, and in war, either the enemy kills us or we kill the enemy. But, after all, I did kill an innocent kid, and I did witness Jonathan beat the living hell out of the people in the apartments; the other part of me just couldn’t live with those sights. Nevertheless, I believe I was a different person then; sure, I might be a soldier, and a soldier cannot show mercy and must do his duty. But I was also a human being.
    “Get on the floor!” Jorlan screamed, charging into the last apartment of the day. We were back on the ground floor, across from the teenager's place, where the scolding old man lived. 
    The next thing I saw was my partner intimidating the elderly guy to answer his questions. “Now, if any of my men gets killed by your little filthy insurgents...” he said mockingly, when he was finished, before shoving the white-haired civilian onto a wooden chair. 
    Approaching me, Jonathan looked around one last time. “Let’s go. Report back to the Captain that we dealt with a potential threat here.”

    Our company rested inside an empty tavern and enjoyed the hospitality of house drinks later, during the night. We had to sit tight on our positions because General Hanley and his brigade of troops were delayed for hours.  
    “Jorlan, have you ever wondered why we’re here?” I asked, swaying my cup so that the water inside spun around and around. “To fight for liberty,” he gave the same typical answer I heard most soldiers say.
    “But how?” I added. 
    “Hey, remember, these bastards tried to undermine our power, influence, and dominance. Our very doctrines are against them. Haven’t you heard that their leaders don’t give them good lives? Besides, we don’t need any pigs hurting further our interests.”
    I simply nodded in return. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. Flipping to a clean page, I began to write: My dear Haisley, today was another interesting day…

    While I was in an army-occupied villa later that night, I tried to sleep, but couldn't. Rest was so hard to come by these days; the best any soldier could do was to close his eyes and drift off if he can. Sometimes, I’d snooze during the day, when my superiors aren’t watching, and stay awake when the moon replaces the sun; it’s as if I had turned nocturnal. But here, I just kept my eyelids shut, yet didn’t even try to sleep a good night’s rest. Rather, my mind constantly replayed the events that happened years ago.
    Savalan Battor of Anfaria. I recalled. Anfaria was in absolute chaos when he was sworn in as the new leader of the country. We were told not many supported him; that he purged the country of countless innocents and political opponents with brute force. The country of Esdrusia, which was represented by the very flag sewn onto my uniform, always seemed to defend his actions at first, although our leaders deny it. But then, the competition for resources, living space, and influence in the world increased. When my country failed to earn dominance, it declared war on Anfaria and labelled Savalan Battor a dictator— a horrible and cruel person who disregarded liberties and committed inhumane crimes.
    I was young when I enlisted, shortly after my nineteenth birthday; the War began several years later, and I was deployed a little after the start of the fighting. I didn’t have a goal when I joined; I was gullible and fresh out of secondary education. It was only when a good friend of mine, Addilaya Balfour, signed up, I followed. She’s dead, by the way— Addi, as she liked to be called. She died three months prior, while our forces invaded and captured some city in Central Anfaria; blown to scattered limbs and parts by a mortar shell, was what I heard. Only Providence was too merciful to me: several  years in war with the Army and still alive.
    “Hey buddy! Time to wake the hell up again!” I heard Jorlan yell. “Hanley’s brigade was in a large-scale ambush. No word yet, but HQ presumes them dead.”
    I didn’t believe my ears at first. “The whole damn unit?” I asked, grabbing my rifle and getting myself in one piece.
    “Yeah, sounds like it. The whole freaking brigade of our comrades in war murdered ruthlessly by the Resistance.”
    Suddenly, my eardrums popped with a sharp ringing sound. Jorlan and I flew off balance, further into the villa. Shrapnel tore through the fabric of my uniform and cut my skin, blood profusely gushing out of a deep gash in my thigh. As I reached for my gun, which was nearby but slid away, the ceiling crumbled and came crashing down. And we stared in horror right below it.