Brothers through refusal

In remembrance of the French Mutinies of 1917.

 

        We all sat around an old lamp in an old cottage, hearing the shells explode in the distance.  One of the boys next to me would flinch every time one went off. We were all waiting for our commander to come back.  I knew some of the men, myself included, were hoping he never came back. Our guns lay at our sides, many of us hoping we would not have to use them. 

 

       The door then opened and our commander walked in.  He was playing with his mustache, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.  His uniform was somehow still as clean as ever, while all of us were still picking the dirt out of our fingernails.  He looked at all of us with his beady eyes and a smile on his face.  "Good news boys, you're all going to the front!" He told us with a cheery voice. We weren't surprised by the news but it still hit us hard.  The men's faces darkened and the boy next to me started to cry.

 

      The commander turned to leave when I spoke up. "Sir!" I yelled, causing him to stop and turn around to face me. "Sir, were not going to the front."  The commander's face had a smile on it as if expecting what I said to be a joke.  It fell from his face when he realized I was serious.  I looked at the men's faces and saw that they were all with me. "We've all talked about it and we've decided that there's no reason to go fight and die in pointless attacks."  My voice was strangely calm, I guess I didn't have the strength to yell anymore.

 

       The commander looked at all of us slowly, taking in each of our faces.  He saw that everyone of them agreed with me and they weren't going to turn back.  He then looked back at me. "Do plan to abandon our country to save yourselves?" He spat in disgust.  I flinched a little at that.  While the commander was despicable person some where in ourselves we all respected him a little. 

 

      I shook my head. "I'm not abandoning my country; we just don't see the point in wasting our lives just to have others do the same. That's not what we want to fight for."  The others around me nodded their heads in agreement.  The boy stood up and ran to stand by me.

 

      The commander crushed his neat mustache in his fingers, ruining his image.  "You speak as if you know how these other men feel?"

 

      I nodded. "These men are my brothers.  Maybe we didn't know each other before the war and we may never see each other after it's over but right here and now they are my brothers and brothers look after each other. " I put a hand on the boy's shoulder, "No matter what."  Many of the men were standing up beside me as well by now.

 

      The commander's face was twisted in anger and I could see he was grinding his teeth.  "Do you all refuse to fight?" Everyone of use replied that we would. "Then it looks like I have no choice."  He suddenly drew his weapon and pointed it at me.  A gunshot went off and the commander gave a cry of surprised before he crumpled to the floor.  I looked to my side and saw the boy's still smoking gun shaking in his hands.  This war had taken more than just lives, it's taken the innocence of young men as well.

 

      We buried the commander's body, not with disrespect but as a brother who had lost his way.  We then marched down the road away from the exploding bombs, away from all the carnage, away from all the things that we had once thought we were fighting against.  We marched home as brothers.