To Be Great

Two soldiers talk about history and warfare. One man has dreams, the other simply refuses to leave the roots he has in the ground.

            “You know what I noticed? All the Great died young.”

            “What?”

            “Achilles, Red Baron, Alexander, ect.  All the Great died young.  I don’t want to be Great.”

            “You really don’t have to worry about that.”

            “Tha-Hey!”
            “Those men were Great.  Nobody could touch them when they were in their element.  Those men had exceptional talent that made them war heroes, and Great.”

            “So you’re saying I don’t have exceptional talent?”
            “Yes, that is what I am saying.  Those men were god like in their element, and their names made hearts rush in fear and awe.  Because of the Greatness, they could not be kept at war.  Such skill can not be compared to normal people.  They must be taken out of the equation.  So they die during the peak of their glory by those who do not dwell in their element.”

            “Or diarrhea.”

            “Dehydration.”

            “Alexander’s died by dehydrations because of his untreated diarrhea.”

            “Whatever.  That does not change that he wasn’t killed by something in his element.”

            “It’s an embarrassing way to die.  Like on the toilet.  Poor Elvis.”

            “I will not debate that.”

            “Hah! I’m right.  But you really think I can’t be Great?”

            “Yes, I really, truly believe that you can not be Great.  Most definitely without years of training.  Which, even then, you wouldn’t be Great.  Just great, because you would be old.”

            “You’re depressing.”

            “How so?”

            “We’re in a war.  And, every war has a hero that history will remember.”

            “The hero is not always Great.”

            “Most are.”

            “Did you want to be that hero?”

            “Sort of.”

            “You are only a hero if you die in battle.  You are only Great if you are undefeated before your death.  I don’t think we’ll have too many more heroes, like the one you want.”

            “Why?”

            “Because, no longer do you charge bravely into battle, with only a sword and spear to dual each solider to the bloody end.  Now, you kill the enemy yards upon yards away.  Bombs are dropped and snipers coat the roofs.  War is no longer glory soaked in blood.  War now is killing.  It takes only balls of steel to go to war now, with a few lessons on how to use a gun and the radio.  Maybe a few lessons on grenades and hand signals.”

            “You really are depressing.”

            “Either way, I am going to bed now.  I’d like to get some sleep before the bombs start dropping.  I have yet to be able to sleep through them.”

            “Fine. Night.”

            “Good night.  May your dreams be nicer than reality.”

            “You shouldn’t be here on the battlefield.  You’re too poetic.”

            “I am many things.  As are you.”

            “But not Great.  Not even just great.”

            “No, but that means you shall have a chance to return home and find a lovely wife to marry and adore.”

            “Hn.”  The two fell silent, falling asleep moments later.

Author's Note

I'm not looking for any big critiques on this one. Anything big that seems to need help, I appreciate. But if I miss something like a comma, you really don't have to mention it. Thank you for reading.