We heard the marching of heavy boots followed by knocks on the door. My sister peeked through the edge of the curtain, and reported seeing a squadron of soldiers, marching along the dirt road leading to our garden. I sent my older brother to the attic to arm himself, before greeting our unexpected guests. Mine was already wedged between the couch cushions.
They informed us of the war that had recently begun, the war in which we had invaded a foreign country that had done us no wrong. We were told of our duty, our obligations to the motherland. There would be serious repercussions if we were to reject their proposals. We had every intention of doing so. All that was needed now was for my brother to greet our guests, and lock eyes with me.
I urged my mother and sister to serve our unwelcome guests the milk we had collected from our cow the prior morning. They narrowly avoided seeing him enter the room and take aim at the sergeant, but nonetheless heard the sound of windows shattering as he fired. He had not followed my instructions. He had not waited for my signal. He had not given me the chance to fight by his side. He had paid the price with the hole torn into his skull by the soldiers dashing into the room. I failed to grab my pistol in time. His blood had splattered onto the faces of my mother and sister, and I had a dozen rifles aimed at my head.
My defiance had been crushed at the sight of what happened next. Never was I afraid of death. I thought nothing of my life, and so I felt no remorse for my actions that night, nor did I fear being tossed beside him. Sensing this, they had shifted their rifles towards those I valued more than myself. I could do nothing to save my brother. My actions, however, could add to the days my mother and sister had yet to live.
I was escorted out, and offered a seat alongside them. They hadn’t bothered to constrain my hands or feet, nor did they cover my head in cloth. I was a puppet, and they held the strings.
I no longer lived the life I once did. No longer was I burdened by my futile duties, nor obligated to grieve for the man who had died due to his own incompetence. He was not granted a burial. His corpse, which could hardly be identified as him, was launched into a stronghold we had besieged.
I have served my nation for decades, done whatever was asked of me. I have slain those who, just as I had, refused to bear arms against our foes, and turned their weapons on their own kin instead. Their idiocy was paid in blood.
I haven’t seen my family since I was recruited into the army. I don’t know what happened to them. I have sworn to uncover every mother and sister in the country. Never again shall I see any go into hiding. Never again shall I let their sons decide their fate. Never again shall I let another pull the chair beneath my feet.
I have been stationed at the front, and have marched wherever it took me. My records have garnered the attention of those holding thicker strings than I. They gradually passed theirs on to me. Every pin on my uniform thickened the string I clenched, till it no longer resembled one. I am now the commander of the sixth battalion, after the one before me was killed by one among our own ranks. The traitor has now been tried and beheaded.
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