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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Tragedy · #1626444
Being human is difficult and hard to understand but sometimes, it's best that way.
A soldier is born to serve his country…

A soldier is born to defend the interest and sovereignty of his home…

A soldier is born to kill…


These were the thoughts that crossed the mind of one soldier as he boarded the gigantic plane that would be sending him to the battlefield, his name was Richter, and right now, he was assigned for the 44th paratrooper division.

He looked on at his fellow soldiers, his brothers in arms, they were all anxious and quiet, carrying their riffles at eye level. They all looked much disciplined showing no hint of emotion at all, steel hardened looks were present, and none were telling any signs of fear on the outside.

But the atmosphere itself inside the plane was thick, as if it was chocking, clamping and scratching their necks as they were forced to swallow something as horrible as a lump of charcoal.

He too, could feel the cold sweat pouring from his forehead, his heart beating like a banging drum, every second, pounding on his chest as his fear and anxiety reared its ugly and sickening head.

“So why are you fighting here?” Asked his seatmate, wasn’t it obvious?

“To serve my country and fight for its ideals.” Said Richter with a firm voice, full of conviction

The man chuckled lightly; it was as if he was making fun of Richter’s principles!

“Sorry, but to fight for that reason, it still means you’re a greenhorn.” Said the man, Richter retorted back to the man,

“Then what are you fighting for?” Asked Richter,

“I’m fighting for my wife and kids back home; I’m fighting so that I could have the money to support them. Because this is the only job that I could not possibly screw up. Also, this is for their safety, I can’t let any goddamn enemy soldier charge in on my home to ravage our women and kill our children.” Said the man as his laidback expression changed to that of contempt suddenly.

“Isn’t that the same as fighting for your country?” Asked Richter

The man held his voice down and said, “Of what? Of thieves and conmen? I’d rather sell my soul to the devil and kill every last one of them for putting us through this stupid war just as so that they could distract the public from their embezzlement.”

He then continued, “Listen, I fight so I can live, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to lose everything that’s important around me either, humanity has been killing each other since God knows when. We’re a bunch of savages on crack that have the intellect to use the surrounding environment. ‘I’ll fight and I’ll kill if it means I can survive. It’s unfortunate that I have to kill good men who have wives of their own, but I just can’t let them stomp us around either. I’m damned by the flesh, saved by the blood, I kill so that others may live, I kill one and I save a thousand.’”

“That’s just awful…”

“Kid, the world is awful. Humans step on each other to get to the top. It’s a sick and twisted way that we live, I hate it. But then again, what can we do about it? It’s part of human nature to be selfish and sometimes be inconsiderate.”

“I-I don’t believe that’s true.” The new soldier said, as conviction was laced in his voice as he continued,

“We can make things work, we can sort things out, we can think of things that benefit our kind. You said so yourself that we have the intellect to use the environment around us, so we can think of something to settle our differences in a more peaceful approach. If we can think things that can destroy our kind, we can create things that can benefit our kind as well.”

The older man of the two, having wrinkles and bags under his eyes to show his weariness and fatigue from the countless battles, retorted back, “Let me ask you this then, kid. What would you do if your best friend shot your lover? Or better yet, he killed your parents, raped your wife and sister and then mutilated your kids before he killed them? What would you feel? What would you do?”

Richter sat there in silence, obviously stricken by the man’s question. The elder then answered his own question, “Me? I’d be fuckin’ pissed, and I’d come after the guy, friend or no, and beat him to an inch of his life before finally putting a bullet through his head. He killed my mother and father, the people that raised me to be what I am, the ones that kept me safe when I was a baby. He killed my wife, the one who I vowed to share my life with, to raise our children and to die by her side. He killed my children, my pride and joy, those that I have given my blood to. You can see that I just went back to my basic instincts and wanted revenge on the guy, divine retribution or not, someone like that deserves the most agonizing death possible.”

This time, Richter was the one to ask a question, “Okay then, what would you do if your best friend was a soldier as well, and he served the country that is going to war against yours? What would you feel?”

The man simply laughed and said, “You got me there, greenhorn, I would honestly not know what to do about that. What would YOU feel about that, then? What would you do?”

“I’d simply stop fighting.” Richter replied and then continued, “A friend has been your drinking buddy, someone who you laughed with and associated with every time, I’d feel like a total heel if I one day just decide to kill him.”

“Then why the fuck are you a soldier then? Not to be a prick and all, but soldiers are born to fight. Simply saying that you won’t fight them is wishful thinking.” The man replied

Richter shook his head in disagreement, “A soldier is also born to protect. I’m the shield that blocks the bullets for the bystanders; I’m the spear that thrusts into fire and brimstone to pierce my enemy since no other one can and to keep everyone safe that includes my friend as well.”

The man sighed as he said to Richter, “You’re hopeless you know that, kid? I’m telling you this now; it’s always the good men that die young. Don’t be a hero out there, kid. I’ve only seen a few good men in my life. And you’re one of them.”

Richter could only tilt his head in confusion. He then asked the man, “What are you talking about, sir?”

“Kid, I meant exactly…” The screech of the siren echoed around the area of the soldiers who all now stood up, equipping their parachutes on their backs and strapping it firmly in front.

“…For another time, kid. I’ll tell you about it if you make it through to this. That way, you’ll have an incentive to not die here.”

Richter looked quizzically at the man as they began to line up before jumping into the broad night sky.

Richter would not get his answer from the man, as the man who had jumped before him, had accidentally shielded him from the raining pelt of bullets and flack. The man had his eyes open staring up as bullet holes riddled his body, his death was instantaneous. The body landed on the ground in a heap, collapsing on the blood stained meadow of dandelions. When Richter walked to the man, his initial shock disappearing, he said,

“Mister, I didn’t even know you yet, you tried to look out for me. Thanks for that. There may be a few good men in the world, but at least, you were one of them. Thanks a lot.”

Richter could only kneel at the side of the Unknown Soldier beside him, amidst the sounds of gunfire and the smell of blood and death, the unseen wind gently caressed the ground as the field of now bloody dandelions scattered through the wi
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