When the soldiers come

 

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Introduction

The marching boots spraying waves of mud, flecking all within its reach with the dirt. The ladies primp their hair as the officers march by, something about the uniforms transforming them into giddy schoolgirls in front of the flock of parading peacocks. They’re transfixed by the shiny pendants pinned upon their lapels and fail to notice the smatterings of dirt thrown upon their Sunday best by the men.

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Chapter 1

They come to a sudden halt in front of the church as the mayor rushes out to address his townspeople. “We, the people of Innesday, thank you for your service to our country and for the strength and protection you offer to our people. We understand that you’ve endured much in the past weeks, so to show our gratitude i encourage all residents of Innesday to take it upon themselves to open your homes to these good men; Feed them, house them and provide for them for the week they’re with us. Allow them an element of shelter and security before they return to the front.”

As the speech comes to an end i peruse the crowd, the gaggle of women’s mutterings rising in volumes excitedly as they turn from each other and begin surveying the men in uniforms. I glance across and realise the men of the town have instinctively fallen behind as if to shadow the women, and my eyes are met with worrisome and dubious looks from each of them. I realise that my feelings of doubt, inadequacy and powerlessness in this situation are shared among them. The men hang back, as the women rush forwards toward the younger soldiers and the officers decorated with medals, to make their introductions and offer their hospitality.

On the walk home i lag behind them, my thoughts drifting to my late father. He was a proud man, a decorated soldier full of stories, not least on the behaviour and endeavours of his comrades, the men in the force that treated women like their spoils from war. I think of his last few months, bed ridden, desperately trying to hold on to his pride and dignity as he was reduced to a shell of his former self. I think of my mother and how loving and respectful she was with him while he was dying. I look up ahead of me as the silhouettes of her and the young soldier disappear over the hill in the distance.

As the sound of her girlish giggle resonates through the valley, the anger rises up within me. How could she act so disrespectfully towards my father, has she forgotten already? My boots spray waves of mud as i march angrily towards the shed to get my gun. I throw open the door to the house, rifle in hand and point it at his head. I have become my father, i am a soldier and i will fight for her honour, i will fight to honour my fathers memory. I will fight on his behalf.

 

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