Hero of War

Hero of War(Nikki Risbeck) I relax in a coarse, henna rocking chair watching the day grow old. I stagger, the chair uttering a soft groan of protest with every movement. The slam of the screen door interrupts my distant thoughts; the whistles of my son, Ben, fill the air.

"What's up, old man?" Ben schlepps an identical chair beside me. He kicks his feet up on a wicker side table, sighing in alleviation.

"Just looking at the sunset." I adjust my glasses and squint at him. "What's up with you, old boy?"

Ben grins. "I'm not that old."

I laugh, the sound like ancient, rusted metal. "You're getting there. Soon, you're going to be like me: old and fat. Instead of that six pack you have there, you'll have a kegger like your old man."

Ben bursts into a loud, hearty laugh kind of like sleepy thunder. "You're
funny, you know that?"

"I try," I admit, sheepishly.

"You damn well succeed."

We grew silent, gazing at the amalgamation in the sky. A clement lavender
and tangerine glow canvases the west sky as scarlet and topaz dominate the east. The demise of that Tuesday was bewitching, a sublime inferno that could only be at the hands of God.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to join the army."

I sigh and remove my spectacles, using the edge my dirty, plaid shirt as a
cleanser. Satisfied, I place the glasses back on my nose and look back at the pyre in the horizon. "Why?"

Ben shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. I could see the world and get paid. It would be an adventure."

"If that's why you're joining, then you're joining for all the wrong reasons."

Ben thrusts his hand into his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Bringing the cigarette to his lips, he flicks the lighter and a small flame ignites. The blaze kindles the tobacco paper and Ben inhales deeply. Phantoms seep from his lips, polluting the twilight. "I don't think so."

I sigh again. "Ben, I'm going to tell you a story. The year was 1940."

*****

I was months shy of nineteen before I became a hero of war. My surname was illustrious. My ancestor¡¯s victories were a penumbra of honor that inundated their kin. I was bequeathed with these achievements in reliance that I too would carry on the title of soldier.

The day I turned eighteen, my father relinquished his career, leaving me in the shadows of his glorious triumphs. I disguised myself with pride and dignity, concealing my consternation. My head was shaved; my auburn locks a distant memory. Wearing a caramel tee and camouflage pants, I was molded into a deadly weapon.

I encountered many peculiar entities at boot camp. Gerald, a truculent twenty-year-old racist Southerner who reeked of tobacco and wood smoke. He had a temper that could make Hitler himself shiver. He was reckless, an impulsive fool who believed solemnly in abusing his rights as a soldier. He spoke of women as if they were a materialistic item only there for his pleasure. I could not stand the egotistical bastard and avoided him at all costs.

Tyler Fairchild was a completely different story. A gentle man with
cucumber eyes and olive skin, he was a bilingual poet who believed that profanity was for the ignorant. He flinched whenever Gerald opened his mouth, for Gerald's words consisted only of profanity and ignorance.

Justin was Gerald's asinine sidekick. A lethargic numskull who could barely read and could only write his name. He chewed tobacco and drank alcohol as if it was water. He slept with a knife for fear of being murdered in the night. He talked to himself frequently, which made me question his sanity. Most of the camp believed that he was schizophrenic.

Then there was Charlotte, the only female.

Charlotte was a rare beauty with mismatching eyes, long, chestnut hair and a body like an hourglass. Blessed with infinite agility and durability, she proved to be more robust than the men. Tyler often called her a living poem while Gerald found her as an object of desire.

Within months, we called the foreign soil of Germany our home.

******

"I would have carried that flag to the grave if I had to."

"And I will too, Dad. I love my country, you know."

"Sometimes, love isn't enough." I whisper. "You have to be willing to sacrifice everything for this, Ben. I didn't have a choice but you do. There are great consequences that come with being a soldier."

Ben runs his fingers through his hair nervously. "I know that."

"I don't think you do but I can tell you.­"

*****

Nothing prepared me for the first time I experienced death.

The soldiers were gathered around a blazing fire, flames kissing the midnight air as if they were old lovers. Laughter echoed throughout the camp as we exchanged stories. I remember how beautiful Charlotte looked that night. The fire illuminated her face, giving her the illusion of glowing skin. Her eyes were soft as she recalled precious memories of her childhood. But her face was filled with sorrow as she recalled her past.

Tyler had retired to bed early that night; had he been there, things may have turned out differently.

"What's that?" Charlotte arose, pointing into the distance.

I turned my head in the direction of Charlotte's erect finger and saw a slender shadow emerging from the haze. She was beautifully illiterate, determination flaring in her hazel eyes. The suspicious invader glided in my direction, her lips forming words I could not comprehend.

"Hey you, stop! I'm warning you!" I shouted, retrieving my gun from the dirt.

"What the hell is she doing?" Charlotte catechized.

I assembled my gun and aimed at the woman. "Stop!" I commanded, my voice shaking. She pressed on, yelling to me in German. My hands trembled as I pulled the trigger, firing a clean shot into her torso.

The bullets penetrated her flesh, crimson flooding the wounds. She collapsed, her body falling gracefully into the soil. I ran to my kill and fell beside her in the sand.

I lifted her head into my lap, silently cursing her for being so oblivious. "Ich Gebe," her voice was hoarse, raucous as she muttered her last dying words.

"What? What did you say?" my body shook as throe plagued me.

"Ich Gebe," she whispered, her eyes went wide then her body relaxed,
accepting death. I clutched her close to my chest, sobbing into her raven hair.

A shadow approached me, taking place beside me in the bloodbath. I felt
slender fingers caressing the back of my neck, comforting like a mother stroking her child's back at bedtime.

"It's okay," Charlotte whispered in my ear, her breath like warm wind. "It's going to be alright."

*****

"Ich Gebe means 'I surrender'. She was sent to tell us that their village was surrendering to us. They were traitors of Hitler who wanted to be our aide and I killed their leader."

"Dad," Ben's voice was soft, light as a feather. "You didn't know. It was an accident."

"Accident or not, I shouldn't have shot her." Tears sting my eyes as I recall the tragic beauty I slaughtered. "She was innocent, they all were, that entire village."

Ben places a callused hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "You did what you had to do. You were an honorable soldier."

I shake my head in disagreement. "I was not."

"Yes you were. You have all those medals and certificates. What about the
five stars?"

"That was all given to me under false pretenses, Ben."

Confusion conceals Ben¡¯s face. "What do you mean?"

"There's more to the story, Ben. Much more.­"

*****

We were adjured to invade the village. Kill them all. Leave no survivors.
I followed my pack, letting each one of my bullets stray from the flesh of the innocent. Propitiously, their extermination was quick and painless until we arrived at the last shack.

"Let's have some fun, eh?" Gerald said with a sinister smile.

"Yeah, fun." Justin giggled deliriously, his eye twitching. "I like fun."

"What do you mean, 'fun'?" I asked, anger sprouting in my tone.

"You'll see."

I glanced at Tyler, an unsettling feeling infiltrating my stomach. He shrugged his shoulders as Gerald kicked in the door, screaming orders and profanities. A squalid, emaciated woman ran to us, begging for her children's life. Gerald kicked her in the abdomen and released a mixture of tobacco and saliva into her face.

A lanky man appeared from the kitchen, his face filled with terror and dismay.

"Please," he pleaded in flawed English. "We want to help you, sir. We..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Gerald shot him in the chest. His wife screeched as her husband's blood doused her face. Gerald hit her with the butt of his gun, screaming for her silence. She fell backwards; blood draining from her nose and mouth. I hushed a whimper as Gerald and Justin roared in laughter.

"Gerald, that's enough." Tyler proclaimed.

Gerald ignored him. "Justin, find the kids. We'll take care of him."

"NO!" the father wailed.

Justin saluted Gerald and frolicked to the chestnut stairs, whistling the
national anthem as he ambled to find his kill.

Gerald grabbed the man's hair, clutching it tightly between his fingers. He pulled the man's face up to meet his. "You're disgusting."

"Stop!" Tyler lunged at Gerald, tackling him to the ground. Gerald wrestled Tyler until he had him pinned beneath his gargantuan body.

"Don't interfere, Fairchild." He sneered.

Gerald drew back his arm and his fist collided with Tyler's face. He hit him again and again until Tyler blacked out. I was paralyzed; it was as if my feet were glued to the ground.

Gerald turned back to the foreigner and grinned wickedly. Once again, he
laced his fingers through the man's raven hair and began to drag him to the ajar door. Follow them, my mind raged. You've got to do something! I shook my head, washing away the fearful presence that wrapped me in a chokehold. I sprinted out the door, the midnight air piercing my skin like needles.

The man lay on the damp soil, Gerald stomping on his abdomen repeatedly.

"Gerald, stop." My voice was weak, barely a whisper lost in the wind.

He reached for the man, yanking him in an upright sitting position. He pulled the man's tattered shirt over his head and threw it in the dirt. Next, he stripped the man of his jeans and underwear, leaving him naked and vulnerable. A revolting smirk crept upon Gerald's face as the man convulsed in the grime, whimpering like a scared child. Gerald then unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his sex.

"Gerald! Stop, please! He doesn't deserve this." I pleaded.

Gerald looked over at me, his eyes like sinister daggers. Urine then began to leak from his penis, drowning the man in his repulsive waste. "This is mutiny! You can't do this! Please, stop."

He once again looked at me, his features ablaze. "Whose side are you on,
Jeremy?"

I became speechless. At that moment, I didn't know whose side I was on.

Gerald retrieved his sex and zipped his pants back up. He grabbed his abandoned rifle from the mud and began to flagellate the man with the butt of his weapon. I then knew what I had to do. My hands quaked as I raised my sniper and took aim at Gerald. I pictured the womans demise; the man's pleading face, their dead children who would never experience life. Courage suffused me and I fired.

The bullets danced with his flesh and penetrated his brain. Scarlet and
spongy, coral blasted from his right temple like an explosion from a grenade. His body fell to the ground, death claiming his damaged anatomy.

"Jeremy, what have you done?" I turned around, meeting eyes with Charlotte.

I respired, my breath like ghosts in the frigid air. "I did what any soldier should do: I killed the dictator."

"Gerald?" Justin appeared in the doorway, examining Gerald's extinct
silhouette. He whimpered and ran to his master's side. He shook Gerald's chest as if he was napping and it was time to wake up. "Are you okay?"

"He's dead, Justin." Charlotte said, softly.

Justin's eyes went rogue. His fingers traveled to his belt, frantically grabbing his pistol. He raised the gun to his lips and opened his mouth, allowing the magnum to fit perfectly.

"JUSTIN! NO!" Charlotte roared.

He pulled the trigger, claret rupturing from the crown of his scalp. His physique collapsed onto Gerald's corpse, the sound of his suicide still clinging to the air.

My body quivered as if dwarf seizures were vexing me. Lament captured my
eyes, tears coursing down my cheeks like a rivulet. I sniffled, mucus bungee-jumping from my nostrils. My weeping united with Charlotte's ululating, our childlike cries twins in grieving.

"Where's Tyler?" Charlotte managed to spurt.

"The house, Gerald knocked him out." We sprinted to the hut, our legs like a gazelle. Tyler laid face down in the woman's hemorrhage, his back rising and falling with each breath. I fell beside him, turning his chiseled body back around. His eyes were closed with livid shadows ringing them like raccoon's eyes. His lips were lacerated and coarse; cracks erupting around the soft flesh like a broken mirror. Blood seeped from his nostrils and his nose was askew. Crimson fossilized around his upper lip, giving the illusion of a titian mustache.

"Tyler," I whispered. "Can you hear me?"

A soft groan escaped his lips and his eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings. Charlotte and I exchanged glances then looked back at Tyler. His fingers twitched as if trying to grasp something. More whispered moans discharged from his cavity and his eyes opened, revealing his gentle cucumber eyes.

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God,"

"What happened?" Tyler murmured.

"Gerald knocked you out. You¡¯re messed up pretty bad." I explained.

Tyler wheezed. "I feel like shit."

I smiled. "You look like shit."

Tyler chuckled softly. "Thanks buddy."

"Anytime,"

"Where are Gerald and Justin?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, copper flooding my mouth. "They¡¯re dead."

"How?"

"Justin committed suicide and Gerald ¨C well I shot Gerald."

"You shot him?" Tyler's demolished face was filled with shock. "Why'd you do that?"

I sighed. "Well, sometimes doing the right thing means turning on your allies. Gerald took things too far, he nearly killed you. He tortured that man and that woman and had Justin kill innocent children. Wouldn't you have done the same thing?"

Tyler paused as if contemplating my explanation. Finally, he spoke. "You're right; I would have done the same thing."

"Me too," Charlotte whispered.

Tyler coughed, blood spurting from his mouth. "We need to get you help." I
carefully swung Tyler onto my back and Charlotte took his gun. His head rested on my shoulder and I knew that slumber would find him soon.

*****

"What happened after that?" Ben asks, lacing his fingers in knots.

"I continued in the service for fifteen years then I met your mother and
retired when she became pregnant."

"What about Gerald?"

"It was determined that I shot Gerald because he was attacking another
soldier. Basically, they said he went rogue."

Ben whistles loudly. "Sheesh,"

"Yup, it was hard and I don¡¯t know if I would do it all over again either."

"Do you think I could do it, Dad?"

I sigh and stroke my chin, the stubble like steel wool. "I'm sure you could, it's in your blood but I don't know if it's the right decision."

"I think it is." Ben glances over at me. "I think I can do it."

"Then go for it but understand that it's not easy. To be a soldier, you have to be strong and know that you are sacrificing your life. You may come out alive, you may not. It all depends on fate."

The constellations glimmered in the sky, winking at us from a blanket of
ebony. Lunar rays illuminated the sapphire lake by our house, giving it a silver aura. The moon was full, pregnant with lambent light. It was peaceful like the sweet melody of a piano.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks,"

My eyebrows crinkle in confusion. "For what?"

"For everything,"

I smile silently, proud of the young man I raised. "You're welcome, son."

We exchange grins before retiring for bed. As I get up from the rocking chair, I glance back at the celestial painting in the sky. The demons of war escape my mind and harmony fills me. I salute the moon and walk away, my mind finally at peace.