There. There it is. I see it. There’s the mist, blowing left to right. It drifts over the ground near the huts. The four soldiers emerge from the mist like ghosts, their rifles ready. The villagers stay inside their huts even though they’re on the same side. They’re scared. No, why? Why are they scared? The wind blows. A soldier whistles. An old man and woman come out of a hut. A spooked and nervous soldier shoots them. No, why? Other villagers come outside. The soldiers shoot all of them except for the children. The soldiers set the huts on fire and take the children into the bushes. No. Another patrol comes along, sees what the soldiers are doing and shoots them. No, that’s not right. That couldn’t have happened. Could it?

No, that didn’t happen. It couldn’t have. The soldiers returned home. They were OK; they hadn’t done anything wrong. But they weren’t OK when they got home. Something had happened to them. What was it? They’d been ruined by the war. One hung himself. One drank too much, did too many drugs, started fights in bars, got killed in a brawl. One disappeared. One sat in a hospital staring at the wall. No, that couldn’t have happened. They were too good. No, that’s not right. It couldn’t be.

OK. I got it now. The soldiers marched down the valley toward the enemy. Yeah, that’s right. Down the valley. All was peaceful until the enemy appeared in the hills. There was a firefight. The soldiers hid behind rocks and fired back. They got a few. Then they advanced up the hill. They killed more but were finally overwhelmed by numbers. They were killed. No, that didn’t happen. They can’t die. That one’s my brother. 

Down Main St. come four cars, each carrying a soldier. The crowd cheers. The soldiers wave and smile. Their wives/girlfriends and parents and brothers and sisters sit in the cars with them. I’m there. They’re welcomed by the mayor who gives them the key to the city. The service groups give them food for weeks. They are heroes. Then they got good jobs in the city, had families, coached kids’ sports, lived good long lives. That’s what happened.

– Bill Kitcher