[dearest]

Synopsis: A grandfather recounts his experiences in the war to his granddaughter, highlighting the horror and hopelessness of war.

The shell came too fast, out of the flying dirt and gore like an avenging ghost. We had no time to think, to react. The explosion rattled our bones, sending some of us flying out into the midst of the battle. Others just lay silent and still, as if they were simply dreaming of home. We checked our limbs to make sure that all were accounted for, almost afraid of what we would find. One head, one heart. Two arms, two legs. Two hands, eight fingers. Some of us cried and some of us screamed, the injured and the uninjured. We screamed in pain, in loss, and in hopelessness.

As lives drew to a close, slowing down like an unwound clock and blurring around the edges, the shuddering boom of artillery continued to rattle hearts against ribcages. The sky seemed low hanging, sagging towards the earth as all the angels craned their necks over the edge of heaven to get a better look. Fog rolled over the battlefield, obscuring the artillery cannons of the opposite side. It seemed the only sign that they existed at all was a hollow thud, a reverberating echo, and orange fire blooming through the fog.

I remember that the air was full of black powder from those horrible blasts; it stifled us like black velvet, hanging heavy and wet against our straining lungs. The liquid rubber smell of gunpowder and the all-penetrating taint of nearby death turned our stomachs. And even though our bodies were leaden with revulsion and pain, we had a job to do. We loaded shell after shell into a weary artillery cannon that wheezed louder with each explosion; it creaked and groaned as if it were bone tired and couldn’t lift its dull gray head one more time. We all felt that way as we piled the limp bodies of our fallen friends to the side, then loaded another round. It was an exhaustion that swept through us—a grim, slate gray wave—that threw us off balance and ripped at our faltering feet. We all felt as if we were gradually sinking into that cloudy pool, going numb from the feet up.

And then came the shout, that famous shout. It was the only thing that history remembered about us. One of us was lying on the ground, sticky with his own black blood, wailing loudly. “I’ve lost my leg!” We glanced quickly, and saw that it was true. One head, two hands. One leg.

“No you haven’t!” Shouted another of us, hysteria licking at the edges of his nervous laugh, “It’s over there!”

I can see now that it wasn’t funny, not at all. But at the time, adrenalin-fueled as we were, we couldn’t stop laughing. “How funny,” we said, “how ironic and cruel.” How bitter and callous, how unkind and unclean. What a great joke it was, to dress us up in uniforms and put us on a field to blow pieces from one another. How very amusing it was, to die prematurely with love letters in our pockets and stripes on our sleeves. How hilarious it was, to know that we could never be whole again. Two arms, one leg. No head, no heart. It was so funny that we rolled over on our sides in the red-brown mud and laughed until tears ran down our grime-striped faces.

You wanted to know what war is like, little granddaughter? Well, you may write down all that I’ve said in that little pink notebook and take it to your teacher. But more than that, I want you to lock it away in your heart and remember what I’ve told you about war and peace. And remember most of all, dear granddaughter, that I love you; remember that I came all the way home, from a thousand miles away, with two hands and one heart just for you.

[xtremelady]

Wow wonderful writing – its short and complete; it shows the horror of war and i can find no fault with it. very good read fire....just wanted to express how much i liked this story.

[dearest]

Thanks very much! My first stab at prose on this site actually, so I'm very glad that you enjoyed it. ^_^

[SeaN]

wow. Great work. In the first two paragraphs, I had trouble finding the flow of the piece- the style throughout is unique in a way. It almost felt like the information was flying too fast to really absorb. Beginning with the personification of the cannons, though, the pictures became quite vivid and frightening. There were three points that I found very powerful; the first being the aforementioned personification.

The second point (gave me chills), was your introduction of the idea of 'humor' on the battlefield. There is allot under the surface here I think. The way the narrator (be it you or your grandfather) was able to find so much meaning from one remark, and weave it into a political and sociological analogy, I found quite well done. Laughter is actually a primitive defense mechanism- so there is no shame in this. More so, it reflects and amplifies the intensity of the experience.

The third, or course, is the re-occurring idea of 'counting' ones limbs as a means of self-preservation. The title was what drew me to the piece, and I was not disappointed with how it was integrated into the story. It is really a frightening thought. The 'matter-of-fact' way in which this inventory was taken, added allot to the work.

Final paragraph; two thumbs up. Really emotional, tied in all the major ideas, and added a personal touch. Nice work- thanks for to you and your grandfather for sharing it! (you should show it too him!)

[RENA HANDS]

A most extraordinary story. The title too captured my attention. Then I read the words and became totally involved in the narrator’s telling of his personal experience with war. Truly a fantastic account that needs to be shared with others. I am certain that other readers will enjoy it as I did.

[dearest]

Thanks very much Sean and Rena. I have a rather vivid memory of my grandpa telling me about his experiences in the war (I wish I could remember exactly what he said! I had to make up most of this.), and my mom scolding him for telling such graphic stories to a seven year old. But the horror of war stuck with me. I've always wanted to but this into a piece of writing, but haven't gotten to it until now. Thanks for reading.

['Ginnis]

You know, I read the entire thing thinking "this sounds so familair" and then realized I was the one who edited it the first time. Good job, fire. It's really a great piece that brings out some of the harsh realities of war.

[x_lovely09]

Definately great!
Haha this reminds me of a story I once wrote about WWII for class.
I like it a lot!

[dearest]

Thanks red and X_lovely! Wow, I haven't looked at this one for a while. Thanks for reminding me! ^_^ Very glad that you enjoyed it.

[Nupur]

Excellent, Tricia! I agree with the rest of the people about the title. A truly amazing piece. Short, with some disturbing images, which I'm sure was your goal. Really well done.

[dearest]

Thanks for your comments, and thanks for bringing this back to my attention! I really have neglected posting much prose on this site. This is one of, what, two short stories? ^_^ Well, again, thanks so much for your thoughts!

[Peppy]

That was pretty to read. It captured my attenion--it wasn't like I was reading something rushed but something taken care of. Awesome.

Yet, since I'm a very, very demented person, I miss interpretted the second last paragraph. I was like, "Wow, so psychotic." The rest of the story blended well, but this part stimulated my sicko mind. Hmmm...but the ending saved my mind from twirling to conclusions.

It was an awesome read. Hmmmmmmm...

(One thing, how do you get bone tired. I've never heard the expression.)

[dearest]

Really, you've never heard 'bone tired'? Maybe it's just the midwest finally getting to me. ^_^ Thanks for the comments Peppy, and thanks for reading!

[Vorcla]

"Bone tired." I am the embodiment of "bone tired!"

Great writing, Tricia. I think I told you before you have no excuse not to write prose - you're too good at it. This is your first one, you said, and it's excellent. It's difficult to do something fresh about the "horrors of war," but you managed. The set up to your story was perfect. Good job, hun.

You realize, of course, that I will be hounding you to write more prose now!

[dearest]

Ah yes, I thought you might. ^_^ I haven't been writing for a while, so now it's just getting the initiative to start again. Sigh.

[RENA HANDS]

Still this story, personal experience makes for a GREAT read! I rate 5/5!

[Timmay]

wow...short and sweet. extremely well written, vivid and descriptive, just great job all around. for what's a kinda ordinary topic to right about (please don't take that the wrong way), you certainly do a great job, especially in your description of the field and the men.

well done

[dearest]

Psh, of course not. This was never meant to be too serious or revolutionary. Actually, this was the required prose that I had to write and edit to perfection to become an editor. I never really intended for this to be posted, but somehow after I submitted it, here it was. I've gotten some great commments on it, so I don't complain. ^_^ Thanks for the comments Timmay, glad you enjoyed.