Eyes Of War

What is war, and are we looking at it the right way?

He was finally sitting in the plane he had trained so many years to fly. The pride swelled up in his chest when he thought of what he had been chosen for. A preemptive strike mission. No one knew they were coming, and only the best were selected to go.

He had grown up in a very poor family. The year was 1941 and times had gotten even tougher. His family had a small lean-to but nothing more. That was all about to change though. The government had promised. They told him if he completed this mission his family would never want for anything again. He agreed in a heart beat.

Flying this far out, over open sea, always felt therapeutic. He looked out of the cockpit taking in the brilliance of the clouds around his head. Moisture clung to window all around him, the wind sliding droplets across the glass like tiny race cars, rocketing passed his vision. He looked down at the picture of his wife and son taped to the panel. No one could make him laugh faster then that crazy boy; always getting into one thing or another, but always smiling ear to ear. And then there was his wife. If ever an angel came to earth, it was her. Her hair was black as onyx but always soft as silk. And ever the beautiful, crooked smile, that even shined in her eyes. She was wearing the dress she made a few months before. Her sewing had faltered in a few places, but she still wore it with such pride. What he wouldn't do for those two!

His mind started to focus on the mission. Only another hour and he'd be upon the enemy. His superiors had shown them pictures during the mission briefing, pictures of the horrible things these people were doing. Some of this malice, they were even performing on their own people. Murder, rape, torture, and much more. His superiors said they would rip people out of there homes, sometimes separating children from their parents. It was unspeakable, and he was here to strike his blow against this unfathomable malice. How could any person perform such acts against another? He was sickened.

In the distance he finally saw what he had been searching for. Land! This was it! He looked down at the gauges; his fuel was hitting empty. There he saw the ships on the coast, the war machines of the demons he was here to stop. He opened fire and could see as people scattered, completely caught unaware of their attack. His engines shut off; his fuel was gone now. He looked at the picture of his wife and son once more. They would be taken care of now. He had volunteered his life to see to that.

The front of his plane struck a ship and an explosion overtook him. Men all around him died, crashing their planes into anything they could find. But, never would they know the lies they had been fed. These were not the people they had been tricked into believing. But he would never know, as his flag drifted out of the cockpit, sinking with his plane into the sea. A ball of red on a sea of white.

Have you ever seen war through the eyes of another?

Author's Note

I am a United States Marine, so this is merely a manipulation of lessons I've learned on the misconceptions of history.

Reviews

[newoldwave]

Quite a short, short story, but almost an essay. To me it is the best way to make a point. It doesn't hurt that your writing style is able to hold the reader's interest. I love how we don't even know the protagonists name, but don't need to. Good work.

[Zach Jordan]

Thank you!

[the dude]

Thank you for sharing; I also work with the corp. Funny thing about war, when its over, no one ever truly feels a 'Victor'..