Battle Brother

As the battle raged around him,
the din of the fighting and the dying intermingled,
It seemed as though he was in another world.
His eyes glazed over and his thoughts meandered,
To another time, another place.
A time of boyhood, a time of peace.

It seemed as if a huge haze surrounded him.
Memories of his past came back to life.
His mother, father, and brothers’ faces materialized:
His mother’s warm smile and bright eyes,
His father’s proud, stubborn face,
lighting up with joy whenever he looked at his eldest son.
His two brothers’ mischievous natures,
Always there for a laugh.

If only they could see him now,
on this last battlefront!
His head held high,
His shoulders back,
As he turns to face the enemy!

But then he saw,
On the other side,
Of that small farmer’s field,
A familiar face,
A friend from days long gone.
Someone he knew, someone he loved.
He saw them together,
Sitting on a park bench,
Eating ice-cream.
Sharing their secrets and their dreams.

He looked up,
Searching for that past friend,
But did not find that face,
Suddenly, he realized, that his gun was smoking,
And a small brass shell lay on the ground,
Beside him.
Slowly, he understood
What had happened to his friend.

He looked around him.
At the faces of his comrades.
At the faces of the enemy.

He realized, for the first time,
That the enemy was just a bunch of men,
Who, like him, just wanted to be home.
Men who had lives
And families.

What had brought him to this infernal place?
Who had called him from his Utopia to this place of Purgatory?
Why had the hand of Fate so carelessly dabbled in his life?

He became acutely aware of the screams of the dying,
Of the shots from the rifles.
Of the smell of blood and gunpowder.
The sights and the smells intermixed.
His head swam in the currents of the scene surrounding him.

Explosively, pain bloomed from his side,
A torrent of fire,
Raging through his body.
He heard someone calling to him,
His sergeant, maybe.
But his mind was somewhere else.

The world faded from his view,
Leaving behind feeling of ecstasy.
He saw his friend,
Calling to him,
beckoning him on
to where bugles called and banners played in a procession.

He never even looked back.
For if he had,
he would have seen,
A sight extremely grim.
His mortal body,
Lying in the undergrowth,
The bullet in his side.
His comrades in arms crying to themselves
As they struggled to survive.

Poor boy,
He never wanted to go.
He never even understood, fully,
What had happened to him.


A few weeks after he was shot,
He finally did come home.
The reunion was not a happy one,
No smiles, no sustaining laughter,
No more tireless jokes.

His poor mother stood in shocked silence,
Eyes brimming with unshed tears.
His fathers’ body,
Usually strong and confident,
Racking with silent sobs,
Face twisted in agony.

His young brothers’ stood stonily
Looking beyond their years.
As they placed the cedar coffin
Into the abyss.

Nevermore to see him smile,
Nevermore to hear his laughter
But always, always to remember
What once was and what could have been.
~K. G.