THE SOLDIER

The Soldier BY GUNNAR SMALL ‘25

As the Private sat at his post, he thought he could hear rustling through the thick brush . He aimed his spotlight, cutting the dark night and fog between him and the hidden enemy, watching through the jungle . The same dark forest he had been nervously and compulsively scanning the last six months, the same dark forest that had hid the slowly advancing enemy through humid hell, was suddenly full of life . The disturbance was not the innocent chirping of a bird or the prowling dance of a tiger that he had previously been so relieved to hear . No, the rustling was loud, violent, unpredictable: far too salacious as it reaped the purity of silence that had existed far before the American occupation, far before the human occupation . Not that the Private ever appreciated the tranquility that rarely fell upon the forest, or understood the meaning of the thick cloud that had shifted over him, any more than the guerilla’s location poised only a few feet away . As he pointed his rifle towards the sound, subduing any human instincts of running or screaming or crying restricted by his training, he stood up and walked toward the noise . He shifted aside the leaves and stared into the dark woods, catching a glimpse of movement deeper inside . Against his will and sense, the Private’s body moved farther and farther into the dark .

He felt the trees down a path into the abyss, following the noise of whatever was ahead . The morning dew gathered upon his boots as he traversed the dark, with only the rough bark so familiar to him to lead the way . In a stage of darkness and humidity, he ran his fingers down the skins of the trees, the only consistency between his home and the narrow strip of jungle he now occupied . Before the war, the Private thought himself a pacifist, a creative intellectual, an aspiring writer . He had always walked through the forest in his backyard to find solitude, to find a place of tranquility and peace . As he listened to the shifting of the leaves, as he watched the first lights illuminate the beautiful forest around him, the Private searched his soul for any familiar feelings that should have been conjured . The Private, a drafted man, cursed the army that had instilled conformity and loathed it for what had been deconstructed . Through his months of training and indoctrination, the Private’s creativity and compassion had been weakened, but he refused to conform to his feral masters . He started to make out the figure moving in front of him, wearing a dark green suit with a holster on his side . The Private raised his rifle towards the back of his enemy’s head, and as he grasped the trigger, the first beam of sunlight hit his eyes, shining through the treetops . The Private’s eyes washed with light, he stumbled over a sapling . For a moment, he stood in complete stillness and watched as the light fell over the shifting guerilla . His eyes were young and flaming, cold knives staring through the Private . He was a young boy, no more than 13, barely gripping the revolver in his small hands . The Private, with his eyes through the sight of his rifle, hesitated . His conscious fought against every ounce of its training to lower the gun . As the Private steadily lowered his rifle, the boy fired his revolver toward him . The bullet sailed past his right shoulder and struck into the tree behind him . Another shot buzzed his right ear and struck into the same tree . Just as the Private raised his hand, the boy landed a bullet in stomach . The boy, satisfied with his shot, lowered his revolver . Without a sigh or breath, the boy stared at the man who swayed in the sun . Without guilt or sympathy, the boy wandered deeper into the woods leaving his prey behind, to continue stalking the darkest parts of the forest . With his last fleeting seconds of consciousness, the Private smiled into the sun and thought of the boy, the living boy . Just as the Private offered forgiveness, he collapsed upon the base of the tree . With sights of spectacular shades of green he had never seen before, with rich smells of flowers growing next to him, with sounds of the living jungle surrounding him, the man rested in the shade . Exhausted, his head laid upon the fallen leaves . The Private rested in eternal tranquility, surrounded by a peaceful forest . And the war was over .