Wrong Side of War

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Dirt flew into the air drifting back down towards me turning the sky a dark grey color, bombs. I blink it away, hoping my eyes won't burn again. My heart rose to my throat as bullets rippled through the air. My only question was when, not if, but when. I’ve already made my peace with it. I did when my superior gave us the speech on how dying for your country is a noble death that no one will forget. That this war is one to be taught for decades and we are lucky to be on the right side of it— it doesn’t feel that way though. 

How are we on the right side of it? There are so many secrets, for what? Another round of ammo was fired towards me, every part of me is on edge. How did I get roped into this? Oh, right, by force. 

Alfred slouched next to me, mumbling about how out of proportion everything was. A nervous laugh pushed past my lips and he glanced over at me with wide blue eyes. “This is not a place for us. We never wanted to fight in this war. So what makes you laugh?” 

My small laughter turned into a hysterical one. “We are going to die, we are so dead. We are fighting and I don’t even know what for, and we are going to die not knowing,” I shrieked as another round came firing at us.

“You don’t know?” Alfred asked, dirt falling from his face as he furrowed his brows.

“What I’d give to not know. You, my friend, are a lucky man, but know this. Everything they say, that we are on the right side of this, is a lie. We are no saints, Werner. We are… ” Another bomb pulsated, cutting him off — scream echoed shortly after. Alfred got to his feet, still in a hunch and ran into the chaos, gun in hand ready for battle.

I cower behind the hill of dirt separating me from the ones attacking. My pocket is heavy with bullets not yet fired, I’m not sure if I even want to let them go. Surely they’d have my head if they found out I didn’t try. I take aim on a tree in the distance and fire. The sound echoed in my ears and my whole body shook by the impact. I like shooting, at least I used to when I didn’t have to point the end of my barrel at another living thing —  the war can take my life but I won't take anyone else's. 

Another bomb went off in the distance causing dirt to cascade down. I just want to go home, with my family and friends, who I haven’t seen in months. The people here are nice, I guess, but they’re all so serious and depressing to be around. 

Someone shouted something at me that I couldn’t make out; as soon as I watched him fall to the ground, I understood. They’re getting closer. My throat went dry and my eyes began to water. I heard the soft thud of feet in the distance, and my head spun with the things I should do. 

Join them and maybe be spared for a while, or just let them take me to the sweet world of unconsciousness. The soldiers approached, shouting in an unknown language, maybe I should’ve paid more attention in my forign language classes. That’s forgotten to me now, as they approached. They are more shoot first ask questions later kind of people. 

Another soldier came up to me, it was Alfred, shouting to retreat, that we will get revenge another day. Make them pay for the war they entered and the people they’ve killed. The innocent people. My stomach turned at those words. Make them pay, innocent people? My feet fell one after the other as I ran towards my comrade. A shot fired and his limp body crumpled to the ground at uneasy angles.

 I felt something creep up my throat but quickly pushed it down; what is happening? I stood motionless staring at the body of my only friend. My teeth grit together as I ran in the direction he came from, no doubt leaving safety to warn me. To retrieve my cowering self, get me away from danger. 

Tears sprung to my eyes, and I quickly swiped at them. No time for that now, I need my sight. I aim my gun at the nearest man I see coming. He was a scrawny figure, couldn’t be more than 18 years old, his face was open in terror and his hands were shaking. Images of my own family split my mind. I lay my weapon down, as tears blur my vision — I don’t want to fight. Not anymore. I walk a few paces from my gun and lay down, whispering my goodbyes. My eyes were trained on the fogged clouds above, playing a game I hadn’t since I was a child, making shapes of them. 

The young soldier approached and almost jumped at the sight of me. His shaking hands pointed the barrel at my face. That's when I looked at him, I noticed his long face was stained with tears too. He hesitated at the trigger and set his weapon down, noticing that I didn't hold one. 

He walked cautiously over to me, bent down and pulled a knife. He began tearing off my badges and the symbols of my country, and tore to shreds the x with extended lines to make it look like a square. He ripped one of his off as well, a flag of red, white and blue and placed it next to me. I watched him with curiosity as he laid next to me. 

Tears spilled as my face grew hot. Alfred's words echoed in my head and I spoke to the guy who probably didn’t understand me. “We are no saints.”