A Coward's Game

The shots rang out loudly that night; coming on quickly, one after the other, the sounds of the simultaneous explosions tangled together into a web of destruction and misery. The desire to act was strong, yet they could nothing but wait. We must wait until the right time, their commander had told them with a good amount of bite, or risk suffering the consequences. Earlier that evening, he had looked them over slowly, painstakingly scanning the faces of each one of the men and women who had fought for the chance to bear witness to the events of a night that would likely never be forgotten. He knew what they did not, for he had experienced this kind of wait before. He knew the damage this kind of wait could have on a person’s soul, on their conscience. He knew of the sleepless nights that would follow, haunted by thoughts of should-haves and self-inflicted admonitions. It was because he knew all of this that he pressed on, ever the bastardly official who placed the sake of one mission amongst many over the well-being of his troops. Are you prepared for that, he spit out, sprinkling some unfortunate bystanders with the products of his urgency. Are you prepared to sacrifice the well-being of this group, and of all the others counting on tonight’s success, purely for the sake of your own greed, of your own weakness? They looked down as a unit, not daring to make eye contact and face the wrath and scrutiny of this man whom they had looked up to, the man they had trusted to lead them into this mission. The man in question must still not have been satisfied that they had grasped the severity of the situation, for he continued with his tirade, drilling to the psychological core of his squad. Well, he scoffed. If you are prepared for such an act of cowardice, he took a step closer, for such an act of defamation of what this position means and what it took for all of us to be here tonight, another step closer, until he was barely an inch away from the closest man, I suggest you leave right now and stop wasting my time. As he finished his speech with force, the young man whom he had walked up to dared to peek at his commanding officer, hoping to soften the blow of the harsh words he had spoken with any inkling of humanity his harsh exterior may still reflect. It had not been an act of chance that he would be the one forced to stare down this experience-weathered man, that he would be the one forced to prove his good intentions in front of God and men in that crucial moment before the waiting game truly began. He was not particularly scrawny-looking, nor had he shown any real sign of weakness until that moment, but for all his great assets and contributions to this team, he remained the youngest amongst them. The commander knew as well as any man that for all the advantages youth brought, such as strength, courage and a reckless desire to prove oneself, patience was not one of them. He had been a young man once, eager to bend to the will of his own superiors for the slightest promise of honor, glory, or even just a glint of recognition from the men he’d idolized, and although the years had had their wear on him and his memory had grown weaker, he remembered every internal battle he’d had while on the field. He could still feel vividly, as if it had been yesterday and not more than two decades ago, the crushing disappointment which had fought to take over his mind when, during his first mission, he had been in the exact same position as the unexperienced now standing before him. I didn’t come here to wait, he’d thought bitterly. I came here to be someone, to do things I wouldn’t otherwise be able to do. Then, his thoughts had taken a twist in a very wrong direction. If this is all we ever do, just sit here and wait like cowards, how will we ever reach the places we claim to be heading to? He’d made up his mind, or had thought so at least when he’d decided, If the next "mission" is anything like this one, I’ll have to find my own way there. He’d convinced himself, after a brief, sneering look at the patient faces of the people surrounding him, that waiting was a coward’s game, and that the next chance he had he would take off and get as far from a future of sitting still and doing nothing but watch as the world lit up before him. It had taken only one catastrophically failed mission, one not unlike the one he was embarking on with this new group of recruits on that very same evening, for him to see the flaws in his logic and drastically rethink everything he’d ever believed in. Wait, his own commander had told him, but he had not wanted to listen. I’ll find another way, a better way, he’d mustered with all the arrogance a recently formed individual could muster. But he hadn’t. Instead of speeding up the process and bringing the mission to fruition, his reckless efforts had caused the equipment to catch on fire, and he’d walked away from that fateful day with a white mark in the place between his thumb and forefinger as an ever-present reminder that good things come only to those who wait. From that moment on, he’d worked hard every single day to earn back the trust, not only of his superiors, but also of his comrades, whom he had put in harm’s way by setting out on his own. Every single day, he made it a top priority, if not the top priority, in his life to learn how to wait, and in all his years of life, the most important thing he learned was that there truly was no harder skill to acquire than that of waiting. Bringing himself back to the present, it was by holding his own experiences at the front of his mind that he allowed himself to continue to stare down with uncharacteristic hardness at the younglings before him. It was because he cared about what happened to them, because he wanted them to forge their own paths to success without having to go through the pain and self-doubt that failures like his could bring, that he was taking the time to make sure they knew how to wait. The seconds seemed to turn into hours, the minutes into days, as the commander and his charges stood still, witnessing the veritable spectacle taking place before their eyes. The youngest one, the one who’d been identified as the weakest link, could feel the pull of action calling his name, but as he looked over at the commander and caught him already looking in his direction, he straightened and made up his mind. The issue at hand had now turned into a matter of pride for this newly fledged combatant, so for all the promise of action in the world, he knew that tonight, he could wait. Tonight, he would prove himself. The tension in the room only escalated with every ticking of the clock, until the minutes on the timer turned into seconds, and the seconds trickled down to smaller and smaller figures until 3…2…1… A beep echoed in the cramped space currently being occupied by the commander and his troops, signaling the end of the wait. Still, nobody moved. They all looked to the commander, who waited until the signal stopped sounding, and then waited some more to let silence reign in the air. It’s a good exercise for them, he thought quietly to himself, with no small amount of enjoyment at seeing their wiry frames squirming in anticipation. Then, with three pairs of wide, wonder-filled eyes turned on him, he edged towards the small, box-shaped container and dared to open it. As swiftly as he could, he retrieved the package from the grasp of its slumbering guardian and closed it shut as soon as he held the sought-after treasure in his hands. He maneuvered his way back to the edge of the room, where the onlookers had gathered for a chance to witness the culmination of this mission. The commander whipped out a small, serrated blade from the back of his pocket and quickly sliced it across the top of the bag, careful to avoid hitting any of the contents that might have traveled up. He quickly glanced down at the contents to ensure that they had indeed successfully completed their task. 

Then, looking back up at his charges he let a big toothy grin take over his face, and with pride and excitement coloring his voice, he said, 

“Popcorn’s ready, kids.”