Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Glory
January 12, 2018
Dear Soldier,
What's your name? I don't think you'll like me calling you soldier. It's kinda weird. Like it could be anyone, not just you. There are lots of Soldiers...
My name is Charlie, but you can call me Ana. I don't mind. It's only a name after all. Only a title you'll use until the end then you'll get a new one. I wonder what mine will be...
My doctor said that this would be good for me. Fun too. I think it will. Exciting even to read about what the war is really like not just it's righteous or they're brave. I want to hear about the fears the overcomings.
Your suppose to write about what it's like fighting in the war. It is scary, right? You must be brave. Or maybe just stupid.
What do you aim for? What are your wishes? Why do you fight? What do you get in return?
I'm suppose to write about my life as well but I don't wanna do that. I don't really like doing what I'm supposed to do. So I'll write my stories instead.
In my stories, my name is something cool. Like Serenity or Grace. I don't like those. They're normal and normal is boring. Those names are black and white and I'd much rather like a name with some color.
So my name will be Anarchy, it fits me, my life, my thoughts, just right. Not black and white but a bright crimson red mixed with yellow and orange. Like fire.
Have you ever been scared of anything? I am. But not in my stories, in my stories I am fearless and naive. Because if I knew nothing then I'd have nothing to be afraid of.
I've always associated the words brave and foolish as one of the same. Courageous and naive. A fool. To rush into the unknown without a clue what to do and how to do it.
I wish I was a fool like everyone else. My parents are fools. So are my doctors, nurses, and everyone else that comes into my room. Lucky them, those ignorant fools.
Are you a fool?
Or are you brave?
Till next time,
The Wantabe Fool.
January 30, 2018
Dear Anarchy,
It would be weird to call me a soldier. There are hundreds of soldiers but then there's me. I wanna be different than all of them. I'm going to be a hero someday.
My name is Will. Will Lance. Just call me Lance.
My first day is in a week. Finally here in the glorious army. My old man was in the army you know. Fought for years. My destiny was set the moment I was declared a boy.
'That's my boy.' He'd say, 'that's my little soldier'. He'd brag about me to his friends and look at me with pride in his forest green eyes.
Now here I am, earning my badges and making my Dad proud. I made it here after finally getting my diploma from high school. If I can get through that I can get through anything.
The bus is very packed, lots of small-town boys trying to be something. But I am going to be something. I'm gonna be someone. It's going to happen someday.
Blank terrain is the training arena. I just want to get to the exciting part. Taking down enemy soldiers and being a hero, you know?
Ma would've wanted this for me too. She's probably up there cheering me on. Just like always. She was beautiful you know, pretty blue eyes and red hair like mine. She always did cheer me on, always will.
There's not much to say just yet. We haven't done much. We signed up and waited for a day or two then we packed up and headed to the bus. We've stopped a few times but not very many.
To answer your question, I'm brave. The bravest of them all. One day I'll go home to Dad and show him all my medals and awards. They'd be saying 'War Hero' and 'Saved us All'!
I just can't wait until I go home and make my father proud. I think pride is the best present any man could earn. Because that's the one thing you can't be given but has to be earned.
I won't say much in my letters, to begin with. I haven't got much to say just yet. But I will just you wait. Just wait after I've earned my glory to take home to my Dad.
Sincerely,
Lance.
February 21, 2018
Dear Glorious One,
I don't understand this. What you call 'glory'. What is it? What does it do? What is it worth and why is it worth so much? What IS it?
This is what I know about wars; in wars, you fight, you kill, you die or earn scars. That's about it. Just death, scars, casualties, and a big 'Sorry' from politicians.
So what's the glory in dying. For your country, eh? Did you know that most soldiers in war don't make it home to their families or even given a resting place?
Then what's glory? Lots of people die each day, week, month, year. Do they get glory too? What if they die on accident, like a car accident, do they get the glory?
Will I get glory even though I never fought? This sounds a lot like the Crusades. My tutor told me about it. Under God, you stand yet you kill under him as well. Why?
The Knights of the Crusades killed because of God. Or was it because of pride? Was it because of glory? Did they please their bloodthirsty God or bloodthirsty selves?
Millions of innocents killed because of a god they didn't believe in. Seems like murder to me. Seems like injustice seems like glory.
It seems like Child's play. You wanna be a toy soldier, one of the hundreds yet stand out. Toy soldiers are so easy to break and even easier to knock down. Where's glory?
I still don't think I'm understanding this concept. You want glory but glory means death if not yours then someone else's. So what's the glory in death? It's not right to shoot someone and feel good about it, you'll be labeled a monster, yet if you kill someone in the color green under a red, white, and blue flag you are a hero.
What's glory? Think about this while you long for it so much that you start to think that glory can make you something. Can make you someone.
Sincerely,
Gloryless.
March 28, 2018
Dear Anarchy,
You wouldn't understand. Glory is something only for soldiers, it's what pushes us to fight toward the ending. The glory is always on the horizon rushing us forward at gunpoint.
Glory is not killing. It's not murder. It's the winning that counts. We're responsible for them, the murderers on the enemy field.
We fight for the defenseless, young and old. We fight for those who can't fight back against injustice. We fight for glory. The righteousness that comes with shooting an enemy comes second to none.
How can you argue that we are similar to the Crusades? In the great Ancient Rome the army was most important and the people second.
Those men took great sacrifice in order to protect the ones that could not protect themselves. The woman, children, the elderly, babes. All would have been slaughtered if not for the army.
So is it wrong to be proud and want to be a part of that? A part of an unbeatable force that protects the weak? Your argument is childish. Of course, there will be bloodshed. That is just war and is a perfect reason why we are needed to handle what the weak can't.
You know nothing of true suffering and sacrifice. So the next time you write about murder learn about sacrifice, righteousness, and honor. Then you'd understand.
My first week here has been tough. There's nonstop training until the wee hours and three hours of sleep. The food is terrible here and barely tastes edible. It's probably not.
There's an endless cycle of exercise and after that is done we exercise some more. We run miles for warms ups and get yelled at for even breathing the wrong way. Many have already given up and went home. But I'll make it. I have to.
Im behind in my troop but I know we'll catch up soon. We still have nine months before the big battle and have little ones in between. We won't even get to Iran until another two months.
Punishments here are cruel. Eighty push-ups for a toe out of line and you have to do it in front of everyone. I should know. It's happened twice.
But I'll keep going even if it kills me. At this rate, it will.
Sincerely,
Rooky
April 19, 2018
Dear Stubborn One,
You have told me what you do but what is it LIKE? The silence, the stars, all around you are tiny details that have a world of their own.
I understand a little about what you say about glory. You're doing what you think is right, I can't argue with that. You fight for what's right and for that I honor you. Just don't lose track of what makes you different from every other toy soldier. Your honor.
I know what it's like to be embarrassed in front of everyone. When we exercise, I'm always the slowest. But my doctor always makes me walk in front of all of the other patients. Always.
Your wrong though. I do know about suffering and pain. I've had more needles put in me a year than those of an average lifetime. I live every day knowing that one day soon will be my last. I've watched my parents be helpless because they know that they can't help me, no one can.
Have you ever felt like a spectator? Like your not in control of your own destiny but being pulled along? The only thing that holds me in place is the stars. I don't get to see them very often because of my condition.
They hold me in place because I know that no matter what happens to me, which hospital I move to, who I meet or lose, they will stay there. Dancing it seems to a song we are too young to listen to. Maybe a lullaby to sing us to sleep but we're too busy to notice. But if you stay still you can hear them sing.
The moon is their mother you see. She teaches them to shine even when there are clouds ahead. She wraps them in a bundle of sky and leads them to their beds in the heavens. That's when their father, the Sun, comes out to keep them warm while their sleeping.
One day, I'll go up there and then Mother Moon will teach me to dance and sing lullabies too. Father Sun will keep me warm while I sleep and give me golden wings made of his rays.
Mother tells me that when people die they go into the ground or get lit on fire. Being put under the ground seems dull, black and white, I would say. Just to lay there and wait for a holy savior. I would much rather be put aflame. What better way to join the heavens?!
What will you do when you die Lance? Will you join the stars with me? Or will you still seek glory from the grave? My option sounds much more fun!
Till next time,
Star Dancer.
May 29, 2018
Dear Anarchy,
I've never thought about death like that. It's just a part of life that we all have to eventually go through, like high school. My Ma went through it, so will my Dad, so will I.
Well, I've never been a great dancer so I won't be joining the stars anytime soon. My voice isn't the greatest either. Though I wouldn't count out my Ma. She sang like an angel.
Hopefully I have my glory before death. I'd hate to have to mess around with the newer recruits to get my life work done from beyond the grave.
After death, I'll just retire. If I finish my goals and there are no more wars to fight I'll just relax. I'll just do what other dead veterans do and buy a house on a hill. Or a cloud.
I thought about what you wrote. I'm sorry about what I said. I knew nothing about you or what you've been through. I shouldn't have guessed that you lived a happy life without suffering.
I guess that it's just that you don't write like you have days to live. You write as though you've just begun to truly live yourself.
Anyways, here the stars are bright. Now that I've read your letter I can't see the night sky as normal again but like a big family. It makes night runs much more bearable.
Yesterday, I laid underneath the stars and just stayed there. I couldn't believe what I'd been missing. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the singing. The stars were dancing, trees were playing, the grass was giggling. I loved it.
I shouldn't have assumed that this place was ever a blank canvas but a place of plentiful color and life. I'm now top of my troop and am impressing my Commanders daily.
Seven more months till take off and I'm on the first bus out to Iran. My skill now surpasses the older recruits and I'm no longer the Rookie but a front-line defender for my fleet. I guess it helps to see in this new way, in this new light.
In the light of the stars.
Sincerely,
Novel Seer
December 3, 2018
Dear Lance,
Time flies so fast. Seven months have already come and went. I bet you're so excited about going to war now.
It's December now and I can't wait for Christmas. I hope my parents like the drawings I've made for them, I tried really hard. What are you gonna do for Christmas?
I get to go outside more though I don't know why. My parents tell me to live it up and enjoy life while we still have it. However when my dad says he starts to cry. Did you know that the night sky is not only blue but purple? That's my favorite color.
Momma doesn't want me to go to sleep but to stay up with her all night to watch movies and paint nails. I think my parents are more afraid of the end then I am. Maybe it's because they don't know that I know how to fly.
A few days ago we went stargazing as a meteor shower rained down from the sky. Dad told me that the stars are made out of the fire. That makes sense that they would be made out of the fire and be so very intriguing. Danger always seems to find its way to being beautiful.
I don't think my parents know that I know that I'm going to die soon. But it's okay because I am not scared. If I live anticipating death then that would make my life just a prolonged execution. I much rather think that I was put here to teach them things. To make them happy but when I came here I was broken so I have to go get fixed. I hope they can fix me.
They had an argument with my uncle and his wife when they brought them cards that said ´Sorry for your Loss´ and ´Sorry´. I didn't really mind though, I thought it was sweet.
My father no longer lectures me about not eating a lot of candy. I can eat all the candy I want now! Mom even makes me all the sweets I ask for. Shes home more often so that she can take care of me but dad still goes to work even though Mom tells him to take some time off.
Enough about my time though. What has changed? What has stayed the same? Have you finally became somebody?
Till next time,
Fearless.
December 29, 2018
Dear Anarchy,
I didn't know what I was expecting but it wasn't this. The war isn't gold and silver that everyone made it out to be. Its red, so much red.
I write under the stars now and hear even the stars laughing at my huge mistake. I can no longer see my hands like they were before. My clean, innocent hands now stained with blood. The blood of a boy no older than I.
I now see what you say about glory. The same small town boys before are now the ones smiling on the battlefield. They don't see what they are doing only the glory that shields their eyes from the destruction they are causing.
There is now a dark aura around the once beautiful land. A tint of red covers all even myself. I now see that I am nothing but a monster with a gun. I am not brave but too courageous to see just how much of a coward I am.
I can't even look in the mirror and see the same person I was before I came here. The same little boy that wanted to be a hero and fight monsters became the very thing he wanted to fight. Glory is death, glory is murder.
I keep thinking about the boy that probably wanted the very same thing as I. To go home to his parents and make them proud. To think that doesn't even matter anymore. I just want to get this over with.
I don't even remember what glory means anymore. I've lost what makes me different than all that other toy soldiers. My honor. Since we haven't come to a post yet I couldn't send letters. Do you think it makes me inhumane that I feel excited about doing it again? It's like an addiction the excitement the thrill that comes with holding someone at the end of your gun or at the tip of your sword. The thought that you hold someone's life in their hands.
However, when you're done it comes back. You can't sleep because the sound of gunfire is just too loud. The blood sticks to your arms even though you've scrubbed and scrubbed until your arms are as red as the blood your trying not to remember spilling.
When I was young I wanted to be a knight. A soldier that fought and took down enemies. I wanted to be the hero at the end of the day and make my Ma and Dad proud but I know that she wouldn't be proud of this. Because you see, there was never blood in these imaginings. There was never guilt. There was never glory.
Sincerely,
Unforgivable.
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