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Isn’t it a Lovely War? December 3, 2007 By Shannon Dunlap
Cannon fire echoed from one side of the battlefield to the other. Blue helmets peeked over the lips of the trenches and shot at the Yellow helmets on the opposite side. “This is the best war I’ve ever been in,” Bertie told the fellow beside him. “I’ve never made it this far before. Usually I die within the first few hours.” “Mmmm,” His buddy Carter grunted in reply. “I was so excited when I heard we were going to war again,” Bertie continued, pushing his Blue helmet back on his forehead. “I wasn’t happy at all with the latest regime. That Yellow government has no idea what the workingman needs. The Blues will give us a much better deal.” “Mmmm,” Carter gave his usual answer. Bertie fired three quick rounds at an advancing soldier in yellow. His shots found their mark and a bright blue stain appeared on the man’s uniform. The soldier dropped his weapon and stretched quietly on the ground. “I got one, Carter! Good shooting if I do say so myself. I dare say that was a fatal wound. He’ll be out for the rest of the war.” “Mmmm.” A shrill whistle sounded and the cannon fire and machine gun rattle ceased. Yellow and Blue men walked to the middle ground known as No Man’s Land and started admiring each others’ shots. “Oh, super! Lunchtime!” Bertie bounded over the top of the trench and ran towards the man he had shot. “Here, Roger, let me help you up.” A round face with a shock of curly black hair looked up at him from a Yellow helmet. “That was a raw thing to do, Bertie,” Roger told him as he grasped his hand and stood. “Now I can’t play any more. Couldn’t you have shot me in the leg or something? At least I could have fought in a later battle.” “Sorry, Roger. You know my aim is never good. Besides, it’s your fault for choosing the Yellow side,” Bertie told him piously. “You should have joined the straight and narrow Blue instead. Say, did your wife pack any of those gingersnaps this time?” “Blue team report to their headquarters for a speech by General Luthor,” bellowed the rough voice of their captain. “Sorry again, Roger. I’ll see you at dinner this Sunday,” and with a wave of his hand Bertie dashed off. The General was already pontificating when Bertie arrived at the main tent. “Have I missed much?” he asked as he slid onto a bench by Carter. “Mmmm,” he grunted noncommittally. “You men don’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation,” General Luthor growled. “We are at war today. We must overthrow the evil Yellow leaders. There is no time for socializing with the enemy on your lunch breaks!” “Same old speech I see,” Bertie whispered. “What are they making such a fuss over? Roger will probably be on our side in the next war.” He pulled his ham sandwich out of a paper bag and ate his lunch while the General railed on. “We haven’t been progressing as quickly as we hoped,” roared the General, “so it is time for a new strategy. I have imported a secret weapon. Blue soldiers, meet Captain Usher.” A tall, husky man in blue and black fatigues walked to the front of the stage. His face was void of any emotion, which drew more attention to the scars that covered most of it. “Isn’t he frightening?” Bertie shuddered in horrified fascination as he looked at their living, breathing secret weapon. “All the enemy will have to do is take one look at him and they’ll run screaming for the hills.” The General went on to explain that Captain Usher was not used to the military disciplines of their country but had agreed to follow their lead. He then dismissed the men and the whistle sounded for the battle to commence once again. “I don’t want that fellow standing behind me,” muttered Bertie as he left the tent. “He’d probably shoot me in the back if I got in his way.” He settled into his favorite foxhole and prepared to enjoy the rest of the battle. The fighting had only been going for 15 minutes when Bertie gave a startled yelp. “Oh, great!” Bertie rubbed his sleeve against a bright Yellow stain on his uniform. “Not again. My wife will give me an earful when she sees this mess. She hates cleaning up my battle wounds. Guess I’d better head to the medical tent and see if they can salvage me.” Bertie stood to leave but a movement in No Man’s Land caught his eye. “Hello. What’s he doing out there? Carter look.” He poked the silent man beside him. Captain Usher had climbed out of his trench and was crawling on his belly towards the Yellow line. This tactic had never been used before, so the enemy never noticed him. Usher advanced steadily until he reached the lip of the opposing trench and then quickly threw a handful of grenades in and ran. Blue paint exploded everywhere and shocked cries of “No fair!” could be heard. Usher stood in the middle of No Man’s Land and laughed hysterically at the looks on their faces. He pulled out his pistol then, and fired quickly at anyone who was not already covered in Blue, cackling the whole time. His surprise tactics had thrown the Yellow team into chaos and all the men retreated. All but one. A young man in yellow had sneaked up behind Usher unnoticed. His uniform had somehow escaped the grenades and was technically still in operation. He was no older than 16 or 17. Excitement shone on his face as he ran in front of him with pistol raised and fired a bright, yellow stain straight to the heart of the man’s fatigues. Usher’s maniacal laughter stopped immediately as he turned to face his executioner. “Isn’t that Billy Jensen’s kid, Carter?” Bertie commented. “Good for him. He just might get a medal for that. This is his first battle, you know.” “Mmmm.” On the battlefield the boy had started to dance up and down. “I did it,” he crowed. “I stopped you.” “I guess you did,” Usher conceded with a forced smile. “Congratulations, son.” He held out his hand and the young man shook it fervently. Quickly, Usher used his free hand to pull a jagged knife from a concealed pocket and plunged it deep into the chest of his opponent. The boy’s smile froze on his lips as he looked down at the dark red liquid that oozed from the hole. His breath left him in a stuttered gasp as he fell to the ground. “What a mess!” Bertie exclaimed from his side of the battleground. “They’ll never be able to get that stain out. What kind of paint is that?” “It’s blood, you idiot,” whispered Carter. A sergeant rushed over to the fallen body and checked frantically for a pulse. After several minutes, he stood slowly and announced, “He’s dead.” “Good.” Usher slapped the bloody knife against his leg as he walked away. “Now we have a real war.” The soldiers stood in huddled groups as he passed by them. This was no lunch break. No easy camaraderie this time. The Blue uniforms stood with the Blue. The Yellow uniforms stood with the Yellow. Commanding officers gathered in their tents on both sides of the battle lines. Some faces bore the same expressions as the soldiers outside, but not all. A few men’s eyes sparkled with a new emotion. In the Blue tent, General Luthor cleared his throat and put the emotion into words. “Gentleman,” he said with quiet excitement, “I think we’ve found a new way to do business.” “But Sir,” a second Lieutenant spoke up, “this is no way to have a war.” “It is now, soldier,” Luthor said with a smile. “It is now.”
ninetyandnine.com
© 2007, Shannon Dunlap
------- Shannon Dunlap lives in her beloved hometown of Norfolk, Virginia. She enjoys writing all styles like fiction, poetry, devotionals, and MySpace updates. If you want to get on her good side, buy her Krispy Kreme doughnuts. |
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