by Canterbury Soul
A gunshot echoed the last scream in the chilly daybreak. The fighting had finally ceased. Daisuke ambled about from the house, spitting betel and pulling up his pants.
“Bitch!” He turned, raised his rifle and pulled the trigger again. “Bitch!”
I should have become numb since D-Day. I shut my eyes, attempting desperately to dispel all the grisly images.
Blood. Decapitation. Blown-up bodies. Dead naked women. Gore.
I honestly believed God had called me into the army to serve the emperor and his nation so that I could bear His witness and advance His kingdom.
But it had gone atrociously wrong since we walked into Shōnantō. Daisuke had started body-counting, and was pompous in proclaiming his twentieth victim. The rest of them were the same – bloodthirsty creatures who wouldn’t stop. They taunted me to follow suit as I struggled hanging on to my piety.
“Fumitake!” I could hardly hear my platoon commander as I laboured staying afloat in my tears not shed.
“Fumitake!” I feebly stood to attention.
“Yes, Sir!” The rest came close, smirking.
“Take this!” There was a baby of barely a month old in his hands. I was shivering.
“Kill it! This is an order!” I saw this coming, but I wasn’t ready. With trembling fingers, I fixed the bayonet to my rifle.
"May I?" Daisuke sneered, took the baby and tossed it high up into the sky. As I was taking aim with my bayonet, He appeared from the backdrop of dull red-tinted clouds.