A simple farmer receives a horse from the gods, a man sells ice creams named after missing schoolkids, the demolition of a hotel brings an old horror to light, a wounded soldier finds the real enemy is in his own camp, a family inherits a peculiar r...
South of the mountains it is a hilly country. There is a river that flows through the hills. The water is clear, and you can see fish swimming beneath the banks and coming up for the insects that float downstream. The river widens as it approaches the sea. In the morning there is the smell of the sea, and the sound of artillery booming across the hills.
When I woke I was with the dead. There were too many to bury, so they had been heaped up to be burned. Some were not yet dead when the burning began. When the shelling stopped you could hear the screaming.
I lay among the bodies and waited for dark. I had torn a shirt off a man who was just a torso, cinching it tight around my leg above where the shrapnel had gone in. The leg throbbed dully. There was a man on top of me who was still alive, but he made no sound. All he did was bleed. I had removed my uniform so that they wouldn't know which side I was from, and I soon grew cold.
Around dusk a man came across the field. I couldn't see him; I could only hear him. When he stopped there would be a sound like pushing a shovel into wet earth. The men were given pikes so they wouldn't blunt their bayonets. I had been on pike duty before. The pikes didn't stay sharp for long, and after a while your arms ached.
The man's footsteps stopped beside me. There was the shovel sound again, and a line of fire raced across my forehead. The bleeding man on top of me exhaled sharply. The footsteps moved away.
When it was dark the shelling stopped. They began to light the fires. I rolled out from under the dead man and took his rifle. I put the stock under my arm, and using the gun as a crutch, hobbled back over the lines.
When I reached the camp two corporals took me into a tent and sat me in a chair. I asked them to take me to my commander, and said his name. They asked me how I knew his name. The bleeding had started again when I had walked back to camp, and the leg of my long underwear was soaked. I could smell my leg. The corporals didn't look at it. They asked me many questions.
When they were finished they took me to the Major. The Major asked me what my name was. I told him. He had a gun on his desk in the tent. They had taken the rifle from me, and I had to stand up without it. When I began to sway the Major would reach for the gun; when I straightened up he would take his hand away again.
Eventually the Major called two privates. The privates took me to a place where there was a lime pit. They told me to kneel at the edge of the pit and put my hands behind my head. I looked across the pit to where the sun was coming up over the hills. A low fog hung over the river, and the ocean was a triangle of azure where the valley cut between two hills. I could hear the far-off sounds of men waking from the long night, and I could smell the sea, and the river going through the trees, and the things in the pit. I closed my eyes.
I heard a horse come up and the rider dismount. He spoke with the Privates. It seemed a long time that they spoke. I couldn't make out what they said, and I didn't open my eyes. Then I heard approaching footsteps, and felt a strong hand under each of my arms, and I was hauled to my feet. When I looked around I saw a Colonel I knew. He said my name and I fainted.
The doctors took my leg off above the knee. I stayed in the hospital for a week. After that they sent me home. Later I learned that the two corporals who had questioned me were executed. The Major was promoted.
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This story is older than some of my readers. What a terrifying thought.
