Shadow Wrought's Journal: [Serial Writing] Everywhere, Is the War (Part I)

Night was just falling in the dusty desert valley. David Walker had been living up to his last name for most of the day already. For the better part of the last four hours, however, they had crossed from "friendly" territory into "enemy" territory. Not that there was much in the way of delineation in the desert itself. It had been fought over so many times, for so many centuries, that it simply could not be bothered to show preference one way or the other- it would simply continue to claim anyone, from either side, who refused to acquiese to its ancient might.

David firmly knew that he would not be included in that particular group. He did not have a particularly optimistic outlook for tonights mission, but then again he never did. He just knew that he was not going to die due to his incompetence. Everything else was fair game. Images of his own bloody death and the constant, yet soothingly familiar ache in his tired muscles, were the only companions which he acknowledged. Jones, Smitty, and Carlson were within a hundred yards of him, yet they were in their own quiet world as well. The faintest of tinkles carried on the wind had him down on one knee in a moment. He glared at Smitty for letting the belt fed 249 make any noise at all, even though he knew he would be begging to hear its staccato chatter within a couple of hours.

Smitty, just as chagrined at his momentary lapse, nodded in apology. Carlson and Jones had been too far away to hear the initial tinkle, but each had dropped whent hey sensed Walker's reaction. By hand signals all agreed to take a brief rest while they were already down. Another quart of dusty water later, and Walker was ready to proceed. By now the Sun had set enough that most of the valley was in shadows. His team mates kept dissappearing and reappearing from shadows. Their desert camo and face paint working exactly as billed. Indeed, after a another mile the only reason Walker could find them at all is because he knew where they should be.

Soon the wind shifted again and was blowing into their faces. Now and again a mumbled voice could be heard, carried in the chilling winds wake. The voices soon grew in number and volume, but not in audibility. Even though he knew enough Arabic to get by, barely, Walker was still years away from understanding the people of this land when they were talking amongst themselves. Not that he especially cared what they were saying, he doubted that anything worthwhile would be so casually bantered around, but anything you could learn from your enemy, especially one as nebulous as this, was helpful.

As the valley narrowed, the team moved closer together. They found a small cave just before the cleft which hid the village from sight. Jones would stay here with the sniper rifle. Smitty would crawl to a position on the left side of the village while Walker and Carlson would go into the village straight up the cleft. For once Walker began the slow march to death without his own bloody image filling his head. Instead he saw the Colonel at the briefing the day before, hearing again the old warrior's gravely, smokers voice, "The enemy IS women and it IS children. The days of the male warrior are GONE! Anyone old enough to hold a rifle WILL shoot at you. Any body strong enough to pull the pin on a grenade WILL throw it your way. Your hesitation WILL kill you. God help us all." The salad bar on his barrel chest gave a weight to the harsh words which his instistance could not.

Walker was one of the few men in the Spec/Ops group to be old enough to have a wife and kids, but young enough to still be a frontline grunt. Not for the first time, he thought of his kids, too. And thought of them fighting when they were his age. Fighting the kids in this village. Fighting against an enemy that corrupts every life it touches. But, he could stop at least some of that. Bloody images of his wife and kids flitted through his mind in a terrible dsance before he locked out all emotion and most of his thoughts. War was afoot, and his own bloody death was pleanty enough to dwell upon.

[Author's Note- I realize that this has all the makings of an anti-war, anti-soldier, anti-military, and/or anti-government story, but this is not the case. Though the story is a dark, psychological one, the army and special forces background exist only to give the character certain things which will later be required. This may be considered the unoriginal, cliched, "the easy way out," or cowardly, but it certainly the most direct and expedient way to get him down the nightlit path he needs tow alk. The dialogue regarding everyone being an enemy is important to his mental state as well, but in a different manner thus far implied. I have no idea how many JEs its going to take to tell this story because I have only the most modest of outlines in my head, but as the parts come out, you'll see what I mean. This would probably work best as a movie, but I am a ways from getting it there, so for now you're stuck with serialization.]

Continue to Part II
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Didn't seem anti-soldier to me

[Red Warrior]

:-)

and I like it so far.
Looking forward to the next installment.

Re:Didn't seem anti-soldier to me

[Shadow Wrought]

Cool! The story has been itching at me for the last ocuple weeks, so I'm looking forward to finally getting it out, regardless of whether or not its the preferred medium.