The Battlefield's Secret

Jack’s weary body tumbles submissively, side to side in line with the swaying ship returning back home. Cracking a feeble smile amongst the knowledge of a war reaching its conclusion he sits, gingerly, on an uncomfortable yet welcoming bench. Gusts of wind breathe on his scarred face, tearing at the wound by his left eye like a pack of hyenas among a fresh carcass. The pain, growing in intensity as adrenaline subsides reminds him of his humanity, however, it is numbed rapidly by the hope of arriving to Violet’s wide smile touching the corners of her dimpled cheeks. ‘Violet, it has been far too long’, Jack thinks to himself whilst casting an inquisitive eye towards the horizon where he can faintly see land, the waves rising and falling like a heartbeat.

Faces are now recognisable as the ship nears the beautiful shore home to joyous children bounding up and down the beach, the sand sinking under their precious little feet and their parents keeping an eye on them in the background, yet simultaneously indulging in a cool respite from the American Dream. ‘This is the very thing I fought for’. The sounds of sea birds incessantly chirping is drowned out by the cheers of loved ones reaching a proud crescendo as each one of them hoist an arm towards the overcast afternoon sky in a salute ringing of red, white and blue.

All of a sudden, Jack feels himself overcome by a paralysing anxiety, his legs bouncing up and down like his daughter playing on her backyard trampoline. This image serves as a reality check reminding him of all the occasions he has missed; every birthday, every Christmas, every Easter, every baby tooth, every school day, this thought producing a tear drop that descends gracefully from his weary eye onto the deck, silently splashing onto the solidified wood and evaporating like a lost memory.  The ship docks by the pristine sand, the pier like a red carpet with all sorts of media waiting patiently with a daring microphone ready to catch their heart-warming headliners. Undeterred by the flashing cameras, Jack’s topaz eyes, trained by many stealth missions, meet Violet’s emerald green eyes, a window overseeing the most beautiful garden on the Earth; a garden that Jack had been caring lovingly for as long as he had lived, cautiously plucking the weeds, trimming the rose thorns and admiring the blossoming flora.  Jack mouths in the panic, ‘Don’t worry anymore honey I’m here now’, a message lost in translation to the utter shock colouring Violet’s typically red blushed cheeks a ghostly pale white.

The last rays of sunshine succumb to the emerging darkness as the handsome soldier walks intently towards the love of his life dressed peculiarly in all black attire, holding back tears built up inside for over 5 years.

‘Jack, they told me you were…’

Violet’s whisper of frustration is interrupted as she is held tightly in a reassuring embrace that she had been yearning ever so longingly for.

 ‘Honey, I could not be more alive than in this moment’.

In between passionate kisses, Violet expresses her disbelief stuttering,

‘This cannot be… they visited me personally… they told me you were dead…. They told me you were dead!’

That doomed word, symbolising a point of no return and the ultimate pain wedge deeply into Jack’s ears, held captive within his consciousness.  

The sound of gunfire sings in a loud and arrogantly patriotic tone as lead flies chaotically, threatening the lives of ordinary men turned mercenaries for their respective nations. Jack feels a sharp pain in his right buttock, ‘Ah right where it hurts’, he quips. Faster than a bullet he runs frantically to the nearest cover like a gazelle being chased by a starving predator. ‘Ah shit’, to his immense surprise, an enemy, someone he could possibly call a friend in normal day to day life, is occupying the position. Surveying the situation in a nanosecond, his eyes darting left and right, up and down like a frenzied animal,  Jack realises that they are both unarmed and he can almost see his life flashing before him like a futile slideshow. Grappling with the man, fists are exchanged, so full of the hatred necessary to survive in life or death combat. Without hesitation, Jack grabs a nearby rock in desperation, sharp and jagged, and pounds it into the man’s head repeatedly. ‘Just die! delivering the final blow, Jack looks into the man’s eyes, emeralds. Foreign blood splatters on Jack, a body underneath him draining in warmth and he breaks out of the trance. Such a personal killing reduces him to a weeping widow whining wildly, a shadow of the valorous soldier that his compatriots saw him to be; ‘I am a monster, killing people with bullets and fleeing the scene, a coward running from consequence… why must it be like this’ he sobs uncontrollably in the midst of heated battle.

‘Jack. Jack are you okay? Jack gently tends to the gunshot wound on his right buttock but instead he can feel the coldness of a different kind of metal forced into a circular form, almost like the expensive rings that you see adorning the tender finger of a bride. The fellow soldier attempting to help him up to continue the good fight transforms into Violet and he snaps back into reality. There is now an unfamiliar awkwardness in the air as the immense moment passes and normal life sets in, rather than unbridled love, as if the two are complete strangers meeting for the first time in an arranged marriage with the expectation of instantaneous love, however, the apprehension is interminable, yet ignored in the name of ceremony. Once inseparable and reliant on one another like pieces of a puzzle, Jack hugs Violet, their arms twisting in an uncomfortable manner, and silently tucks the ring away into the deep recesses of his strained pocket in the hopes that their love, a neglected rose, can be resurrected from its roots.

‘Can you keep a secret ?’- He thinks to himself.