The Hero of War

A little story about a kid wanting to grow up to be a solider like his dad... little does he know what war can be like.

I hear him outside of my door; sounds of rapid footsteps, a loud crash on the tile, the quick gun like sounds escaping his mouth. I can picture him all dressed up in his best pretend army uniform. His ranks made of Legos strewn about his breast, a stick for a gun with a shoelace acting as his strap, and his school backpack taking place of his equipment bag. His field of war made up of small plastic children’s tables, couch cushions, and blankets placed over bar stools acting as his fortifications. He rolls, dives, and ducks as he slays his imaginary enemies and shouts a loud “hurrah!” when he wins his impossible battle singlehandedly and completely unscathed.

Says he wants to be a marine just like daddy when he grows up. let him have his fantasies, I tell myself, keep him young as long I can. He doesn't need to know what horrors await him in the near future, let alone the atrocities that take place within the military. I mean, what else is he to know? The movies and T.V. programs make war out to be such a glorious and honorable thing. Which it is those things, but only after the war has ended. Though, even then there are those who never actually leave the field the strife.  

The hero of war comes home after months of barely sleeping in the hot dessert with gun in hand, and is awakened by the faintest sound and aims without regard for fear of his life; is psychologically tortured by his own mind, morphing sights and sounds into things of horror. Then, after being ambushed he alone survives and is expected to show up completely sober, and hold himself together in front a group of people long enough to receive his medal of honor. After, he quickly retreats to his home and drinks himself into a drunken stupor trying to drown the ghosts of his enemies and comrades coming to haunt him.  He beats his wife, and neglects his children. He is supposed to be a father, one who loves his kids, scares the bogey man away at night, and kisses their boo boo’s when they fall down. Instead he becomes the bogey man and his own kin are too frightened to look him in the eye.

His marriage falls apart and his wife, of whom he swore to protect and love unconditionally until the day they die is kept awake with wails of terror as his platoon is being mutilated before his dreaming eyes. Then, a few times a night, the routine of calming, soothing, and lolling him back to sleep ensues. When she walks the grocery stores she must endure looks of pity, remorse, and the occasional glance from ignorant passerby displaying their looks of disgust. The store clerk slips her a card with a phone number on it and says “you don’t have to live like this” and then almost robotically, 

“No, no you just don’t understand he loves me, he really does- he’s just going through a rough time right now” she replies in broken sobs and contorts her face into a an ugly grimace as she hands over the money for the groceries and doesn't bother to wait for the change. She's right though, he does love her, and he really is going through a tough time. What is a wife to do?

 Then, one day, her life is changed. She comes home from dropping the kids off at school and the image of a full grown man hunched over and drooling burns its imprint into her eyes as she sees her husband lying lifeless in a puddle of Jack Daniels and vomit, gripping a bottle of prescription pills.

When I look upon my child and see his late father’s nose, and deep blue eyes and wanting to follow in his footsteps, I cannot help but to weep silently to myself. I know what the glory of war entails, and what ghosts follow you home after the enemy is put into his shallow grave as you rest your head upon your pillow. Such a thing I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemies. 

Author's Note

I wrote this a few years ago actually, so its quite old. I feel like it could be better, but I'm not sure how exactly. Anyway, I got the inspiration from my little brother who was playing pretend army man.

his isn't a critique or slam on those who serve, just a creative piece from a random stimulus. I had no agenda when writing this.

Reviews

[Woody]

a very touching piece. and, oh, so true. will Man finally learn? or is he doomed?

[Trevor Bergshoeff]

Thank you! Sorry for taking so long to get back to you, I don't like to leave people who comment on my stuff hanging, however, this past months has been hectic with assignments for University.

Anyway, someone once said something along the lines of, man has the profound ability to learn from other people's mistakes, but what is more profound is his disinclination to do so.... It's a strange thing. Man is stubborn, and think's he knows best. I think the first step in preventing our 'doom' is recognizing that we don't know best. But we keep moving toward ignorance, and government reliance, which is just digging us into hole no one really wants to be in. But I might have gone off topic.... :P

[Woody]

I know exactly what you mean Trevor. we live in troubled times and to tell you the truth, I'm quite pessimistic (or possibly realistic?) about our future and that of our children.

[Trevor Bergshoeff]

Yeah... so am I. I'm only 22, and I fear what I'll have to face in the future, and if (or probably when) I have kids, what they'll have to deal with. Sometimes I feel like I just want to pack all of my things and head for the hills lol.

[Woody]

not far enough, I'm afraid. head for Mars, more like :) but then again, it wouldn't take Man long to mess up that planet too.

[Trevor Bergshoeff]

hahaha no, no it wouldn't... =/