Blood stains on white

I lay there, motionless but alive, though I’d rather not be. Pain engulfed my pathetic being, slowly and sadistically devouring each inch of bloody, sore flesh, bare under broken armor and torn white fabric. Ha. White. You could hardly see any white in this battle. A stab in the heart, a merciless swing at the head…all you could see was red. Dark crimson. The brilliant army uniform I once wore in pride was pierced with holes, soaked with blood, torn apart. It could be a peasant’s rag for all I cared…and I did not. As I approached death, I finally realised that this war was just downright…stupid. We were fighting, braving the dark, cold shadows that yearned to grab us, for something our people did not necessarily need but things our greedy king wanted. The king who sat in his comfy, jewellery encrusted throne safely back home, watching the battle unfold like we were chess pieces he could always get more of. We were taught to fight for our country and king but I suddenly wondered…What should I really be fighting for? The king who was barely governing the city? Or the loved ones who waited with flickering hope for news of my survival? If my country was defending against a menacing attack, I would understand how this was worth fighting for. It acted as protection for my beloved people…but we were the ones attacking, the ones who were ignoring our nagging consciences as we ended the lives of brave men who had their own country to take care of. We were attacking with the purpose of gaining items to feed the growing greed that came in the form of our ruler while leaving sorrowful widows and innocent orphans to weep in vain for their lost heroes. How could these actions ever be considered noble?

I winced as a brown horse, large body stained with enemy blood, ferociously trod over my broken leg, charging into battle with his sword-bearing soldier on top, fearlessly chopping off enemy’s limbs but forgetting his comrade’s broken one. Then again, I doubted he could be bothered with my life when so many others were already being ended, so many souls sent to the underworld for the needs of a barely capable king. To be honest, it was a weird feeling to feel so…against my country but perhaps it was because I knew I was going to see Death’s face soon and that my heart would stop beating before the end of this foolish battle. I did not feel proud for dying for my country-no, not at all- because I did not even feel like I was dying for my country. Instead, I felt ashamed. Yes, a strange feeling to feel in such gory war but true. Ashamed I was for ending lives for rather improper reasons, ashamed for making men fall like I did, ashamed for leaving them the way I was, on the cold, red ground moaning for death as Pain took you as a play toy. How could a battle like this be glorious? How could killing men for selfish needs be worthy of praise and applause? The most treasured possession of a man is his life and here we were, like lowly thieves, stealing their souls. Maybe it was the fact that I was dying or that so many of my close friends, good people I had known since childhood, had died that day but I now realised how important life was and to the cruel fates doing, only when I was soon going to lose this precious treasure myself. This battle lacked meaning. It did not result in glory, it resulted in death. And more death. And more death. It was wrong for the king to start this war, wrong for us to follow suite…and now many good men were going to pay, pay with all they had, pay with their lives and their loved ones’ tears and sorrow.

“And so our lives end but in glory. For the people may be saved…” Someone muttered softly.

I turned my head slightly, ignoring the pain, to see the one whose words contradicted my current views, which I was so sure of. My eyes locked with those of a fallen soldier. Lips parched, he smiled at me as blood trickled out of his dry mouth. The dark substance was also seeping through his ragged black uniform, pouring out from a deep stomach wound. He had but a few seconds till death came to claim his sorry soul.

“You…you smile…” I muttered with effort. It hurt to speak.

“Yes...I…may be your enemy…but we are…both dying, no?” He managed to say, “And I am glad…to have died a noble death…defending my country from yours…” He trailed off as he closed his eyes to never open them again.

A small tear found its way down my dirty cheek. He was a much better man than I ever could be. He was defending his country. He was saving the people he loved. He did not hate the enemy for killing him, he only fought back because we were destroying the very people and things he loved. He smiled at the enemy. He knew he was not the only one to suffer death as result of this battle and he had the courage and reasons to embrace it warmly.

They were human. All of them. “The enemy” or not, they were just like us. They were acting like how we would if we were attacked by enemies driven by adrenaline and bloodlust. They were protecting their families like how we would do, risking their lives for the sake of those who own their hearts. They were practically us and we were killing them without a second thought, without a second look, leaving them to be part of the inevitable pile of rotting dead. We were severing human flesh in fatal areas, splattering blood all over the red grass, tainting the sparkling, silver swords we’re proud of crimson. We were murderers. The blood, splattered out of deadly, poisoned wounds of men, could testify to that.

I surveyed the empty battlefield. The main fight had moved forward and all that was left were broken weapons-spears, swords and shields which had cost more than just a blacksmith’s effort-bloody corpses and the moans of the dying. Regardless of uniform colour, so many had died, so many good men had died. Because of us and the stupid battle we foolishly started…

But all I could do then was lie there, awaiting death, clad in wet, bloody cloth, the white uniform making the blood stains stand out even more. At least…much more than the black fabric of ‘the enemy’.

(I wrote this as part of my CAP portfolio. But I didn't get into CAP. So I figured that I might as well post it here.)