Most of us had been slaughtered by the gun-shots and bombs, and the ones alive had been mutilated beyond repair. Our radio waves have been intercepted by the enemy; thus hindering any communication with the mainland for help.
“It’s time lieutenant,” one of my bravest warriors told me from his cover.
“What do you mean?” I asked him, appalled.
“Death shall be my beginning sir. My life is for my motherland only.”
“Officer, I order you—-“
But looking at his eyes, proud and resolute, I knew it was in vain. He raised his hands for a final salute.
Exposed, with the little amount of ammo he possessed, he started firing randomly at enemy soldiers. It didn’t take him long to collapse in an ambush.
“I don’t want to die sir,” one of the younger soldiers moaned. All of us were out of ammo already. There was no question of fighting back.
“Shut up for heaven’s sake!”
“I miss my mom, dad and my girl. I promised to marry her after my enlistment was over.”
I noticed his glistening eyes. This is what recruiting 19-year olds for battle gives you. I made a mental note of complaining about this whining kid to my superiors if I escaped alive today.
I recalled I had a family too. It’s been years since I last saw my children and their mother. I missed home, my mom’s cooking and my father’s commands. Before Japan had entered into the war to consolidate our beloved empire’s power over the east, I used to be a husband, father and son.
But I brushed away those thoughts. Everything now was as distant as the night’s vastness.
I knew death was imminent. But the question was, how? Would it be better to cowardly let it come to us, or should we proudly embrace it with our courage?
I saw the young soldier scribbling okasan, the Japanese word for mother, on the soil. It was at that moment when I decided that the time had come.
“Lads. It’s time,” I told my soldiers gravely. “But remember, we are dying like soldiers. We are not giving up; rather, we are sacrificing ourselves for our motherland.”
I could discern from the tension around me that, although concisely, I had articulated my point. Everyone gathered up whatever they had. Bamboos, broken rifles, gun, everything.
And I decided to lead them from the front on the run to death.
With a tumultuous roar, we advanced along the enemy lines, ready to face death.
- I Am A Soldier’s Mother (lvndzirr.wordpress.com)
- Embattled Childhoods May Be the Real Trauma for Soldiers With PTSD (psychologicalscience.org)