Well, this is something that I have written and I would like to get some FB about it.
Memoirs of an Unknown Soldier.
I never told anyone of the atrocities I saw, and the ones I committed, they still haunt me. I do not think anyone should experience the horrifying things I saw, from the pain of seeing your best mates face smiling uneasily at you, then there face etched in fear as they realize that they are going to die moments later after being shot, and you telling them that they are going to be all right when you both know that you are lying and that he is too far gone, to seeing an captured enemy soldier pleading for mercy, begging for his life to be spared and tears rolling down his cheeks, and then you pulling the trigger, there blood spraying all over your shirt, and your innocence travelling with the soul of the man you just executed, never to be seen again.
It was always cold on those battlefields; however there was one place I could find warmth, it was in the memories of her, a girl’s name who has disappeared down the mist of time yet whose face shall never be forgotten, our times walking down the pebble-strewn beach, the waves whirling around our ankles, but there it was not water whirling around my ankles, but blood, the blood of the innocent victims of that horrid war. everything I ever cared for has gone, all I am is an empty shell of a once vibrant and living being, the soul that once inhabited it is no longer, it was corrupted by the horrors of warfare, and irreversibly changed to something I would not call human.
We were told that we were fighting for all that is good in the world, yet I now know that it was a lie, for there is no good on a battlefield, just the constant reminders that the only things that existed there was death and decay, and that the only thing that could be won was not victory, but to be allowed to live another day, another day closer to going home, another day to cherish a thing that these days is taken for granted, a thing called life.
We were led to believe that the enemy was a heartless monster, something that could only think about the destruction of all we held dear, of all the things that makes us happy and help the world be a better place, but they were not the heartless machine we were told, just simple normal men who have sweethearts, children, wives and mothers just like us, men who were just as desperate to leave this god-forsaken place and return to the simple pleasures of their former lives, to rejoice in the ability to appreciate silence, and to be able to fall asleep without the constant pounding of cannon echoing in the distance.
I remember the first man I killed, the first person whose life was snubbed out by my hand, this was also the day I died, not wholly but just a little, this was the day the nightmares started to occur. The look of his face, little older than I was showed not pain or anger, but sadness when the light finally left his eyes, as if he had hoped to maybe been able to say goodbye to those he had loved and cherished, maybe one last time to play with a much loved child, just one last time to do these things that must have been so dear to his heart. And it was by my hand that these things were not accomplished.
Before that man died, he handed me something, just a small locket, I opened and saw that there was a picture of a women inside, and a small note that read Ich liebe Sie immer, und ich bin immer mit Ihnen which is German for I will always love you, and I will always be with you. I still own this locket, I always keep it in my pocket, I have tried to track down who this women was but to no avail, I felt sad for her, she would have received the news by some monotonous letter telling her how valiant her man was, and how the rest of the nation grieved for him also. I feel so much sorrow, because this maybe all that is left of this man that she loved, and it is owned by the man who denied her the joy of seeing him again.
I hope that the future generations will learn from the mistakes made by us, to make a better future for them, yet I feel that this is not how the course of history will proceed, I think this new generation has forgotten the lesson we have tried to teach. But I am at peace now, for the guns and cannon have finally fallen silent, the boom of cannon has been replaced by the laughter of children and the rattle of gunfire is now the sound of birdsong. The blood that I and so many others spilt just hope that our sacrifice isn’t forgotten.
