The priest promotes war, and the soldier peace.

....Continued



The invaders came, with a swiftness the villagers could not foresee. The hum of the massive army's footsteps shook the earth.

The women scrambled to the hiding places within the jungle - but most were too late. The Japanese soldiers captured some - the most attractive and youngest - and killed the rest. The soldiers didn't waste any bullets or time, striking down most with bayonets while hanging over the edges of their caravans.

His wife was one of the unlucky few - from his vantage point of his rooftop he saw the soldiers grab her, pull her to the ground.

Smoke filled the streets. Blood soaked into the dirt, turning the brown soil black.

He watched from his roof, unloading his rifle into the trucks of invaders. The shots echoed out, but were swallowed by the cacophony accompanying the oncoming army. He killed three soldiers before emptying his ten-round clip.

Tears streaked down his cheeks, the cries of his love being taken away reverberated through his soul. His shaking hands threw down his rifle, and he made his way down from the roof and into the maelstrom of the street.

He could still hear her screaming, through the gunshots and terror.

The Japanese soldiers shouted curses in a tongue he did not understand. They flowed out of their vehicles, killing men, women and children with an indiscriminate hatred he could not understand.

Through billowing smoke he ran, hearing only her shouts for mercy. He was getting closer. Somewhere off the road he heard her cry, sobbing, begging for them to stop.
He was getting closer.

His neighbor - and best friend - lay in a pool of his own blood.

Turning away, tears and smoke stinging his eyes, he ran as fast as he legs would carry him. He ran, bullets flying by, life-long friends dying all around him.

He ran, through the smokes and the screams, through the bloody mud and the hailing bullets.

A shard of shrapnel tore through his leg, sending muscle and sanguinary fluid flying. He stumbled to the ground, face first.

Her screams echoed, calling for him, calling for mercy.

He pulled himself up, struggling against his body's desire to just collapse.

He watched as soldiers throw torches into his home - the home he built with his own hands, the home he built for his betrothed, when they were barely more than children.

Leaning against a tree, blood flowing like sap down the bark, he limped into the jungle, and to the love of his life - and towards the end of his own.


......to be continued......