War and Peace

Silence. Absolute silence - when, just a few hours ago, the field had been littered with running men and horses, shouting for their nation; and the fallen, man and beast alike, either grateful to die serving their country, or woeful at the thought of missing the life they could have lived.

But now, it was over. The surviving horses went back to their stables, content to be far from the sound of gunshots and cannons, which they had almost become accustomed to over the past few months. While the men buried and honoured their fallen for the last time, in silence almost foreign to their ears.

A particular soldier of seemingly little importance was sitting beside a mound of earth, one of the many graves dug that day. The soldier, one worthy of the title, was silently crying.

“It’s all over, captain,” he whispered to the mound of earth, almost as if it could hear him. “It’s all finally, finally over.”

He closed his eyes, trying to shake off the drowning, helpless sorrow caused by the mound of earth beside him. He took a deep breath, and started talking. “I don’t think anyone - ever - wanted to fight in war, not even the enemy - because, mind, most of the enemy was just like us, but born different. We all lost something, and the wives and children back home did, too; unless they was mighty blest, which I guess fair few musta bin. I wasn’t, was I? Lost Grace- the childrens’ll be sorry to hear that, mighty fond of that old horse they was, ’specially Tom. And we lost you-” Struggling not to break down, but to stay strong and continue this harrowing one-sided conversation, the soldier broke off, breathing deeply, dropping his face into his hands, willing himself not to cry. Silence engulfed him; after a while, he calmed himself enough to resume talking.

“Annie’ll be sorry, but she’ll stay strong for me, she will. You was my best friend, Bill, an’ I’ll miss you, but I’ll get through it somehow, I will. Jus’ wanted to have one last talk with you, I did, afore going back home fir the first time in so long. Don’t think I’ll ever chance to come back here, ’least not fer the happy mem’ries.” He let out a hollow, bemused chuckle, raising his head to look at his brother’s grave, which he had dug and filled himself just a few hours ago. What he had suffered, handling and burying the bloodied remains of his childhood best friend, he vowed silently to take to his own grave.

“I’ll miss you, buddy. But I’ll go on with my dooties, too, just the same as always, like I know you would’ve wanted me to. We promised, and I survived, so I’ll take that promise forward, and live my life to the best o’ my powers. But I’ll be damned if I forget you, Bill, you best believe it!” he said passionately, believing his own words; and hoping, wishing, that somewhere, somehow, his brother would, too.

He rocked himself gently, having closed his eyes, and basked in the momentary peace of the field he was in. The sorrow of his heavy loss, with the happiness of seeing his family again soon, made him unusually excited- but he had learnt to control himself when he needed to, so he didn’t show it. It was a pathetic sight: a man curled up, rocking himself in front of a grave; with tear marks on his face, and red eyes, not to mention the blood and dirt on his uniform and hands, neither of which he had cleaned yet.

There was a vague call in the distance, not easily identifiable, but the soldier understood.

“Well, Bill, it’s likely this is the last time I’ll ever step foot here, and I’ve got things to do - a war ain’t no small business, you know - so I’ll just say goodbye; I’ll remember you forever; I’ll take care of me, remembering you, I will.”

He turned around and quickly headed back to camp, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion and unable to process seeing his brother's final resting place, and not wanting to stay for any longer. And that was the last the mound of earth saw of Jack Haldon.