Wendigo, Deer Woman and Murder

War and Peace

Lead by the Light infantry, the redcoats advanced towards the enemy camp. It was a dim half moon and there was just enough light to se the men standing to the left and right. George clenched the musket tight in his hands. The flintlock stone was removed, to avoid an accidental shot.

To say that George was scared would have been an understatement. His legs shivered like they were made of glass and he was sure he would piss himself any moment. Shooting someone was one thing but getting up close and personal and stabbing a human being with 15 inches of cold steel and looking that person in the eyes while doing it.

He was about to go into a panic attack when he felt the hand of the Sergeant on his shoulder. "Private, I know this is scary. But remember that me and the others are counting on you." Group pressure. Simple, but effective.

He thought about the strange forest woman and about seeing her again. This thought kept him going forward. The few posts were quickly dealt with and the redcoats began to surround the tents. "Let's wake them up, Sergeant." the Lieutenant orders.

The Sergeant rang one of the alarm bells and the american soldiers rushed out of their tents, only to be cut down by the redcoats. The slaughter only lasted for a few minutes but for George, it felt like time had stopped. When the first enemy soldier was in front of him, he couldn't think about the uniform and the gun in his hands. He just saw a boy, the same age as him. He couldn't bring himself to kill the poor lad, so he bayoneted him in the thigh instead. He fell to the ground, crying in pain, but still alive.

The garrison commander quickly surrendered, handing his sword over to the Lieutenant. The Union Jack was raised over the outpost and the prisoners brought back to the British camp.

"Lets just shoot them." said the Sergeant. He spat one of the soldiers in the face. "These rebels do not deserve to be treated fairly. Hang them all like the criminals they are."

"Enough Sergeant! We do NOT murder Prisoners of War." the Colonel shouted at him. "They will be brought to New York."

"So that they an rot away on the Jersey ? Shooting them would be more humane." the Sergeant muttered but followed the orders. The Prisoners were made to march towards New York, it would take them them several days to reach it.

Seeing these freezing young man made George realize that these were people just like him. They didn't want to freeze, to live out in the wood in a little tent. They wanted to be home with their families, work or go to school. Sure, they were misguided but they were still human beings. "What's up with the Sergeant?" he asked a comrade during a break.

"I heard his brother was killed by the rebels down in Georgia. Lynched by an angry mob because he openly supported the king. They let his body hanging at a tree as a warning."

"No wonder he hates these colonists so much." George whispered.

War is always the same. No matter if the cause is noble or unjustified or even done out of necessity. In war, people always die and suffer.

George wondered if the Grim Reaper loved war or if he fought of it as a waste of human lives, because young man are taken down during their prime. He probably would, war was not created by god after all. It was created by humans.

A few days after their return, George found himself on night patrol with two more soldiers. As they were resting on a tree stump, one of them asked what they planned to do once the war was over. "Huh... good question. To be honest, I don't know. Maybe return home but... I don't believe that will be possible. War changes people." George sighed. He hadn't even killed anyone yet and could already tell how much it would affect him. Perhaps it was better this way and he could prepare himself for when the time came. He also had to think about the Sergeant and his desire for revenge. "War makes men mad, even the good ones."