With the first boot on the ground the Commander looked around the ruins and at our men getting breakfast. I waited for him to give him my report, so I saluted him and cleared my throat. He didn’t minded the number, he was more taken by the image that captivated him.
– My God. What did you do here? – he asked, his mouth opened wide in horror.
– It wasn’t us Sir. It was the enemy. They just didn’t wanted to give it to us that easy so they ordered their artillery to fire as they pulled back. They’ve been doing this for some time Sir. Don’t you read the reports I send you? – I tried to clean my face from all of the dirt that stuck on it, and made a resting grimace he didn’t care to look at.
The Commander started walking toward the building, stared at the side of it blown off and showing homes of the people who lived there. He couldn’t peel his eyes off of the things he saw inside, an image so haunting he never could have imagine before.
His boot kept walking, bringing him to the base where all of the rubble slided down to a hill that if he would to climbed it, he would be inside of the children bedroom. Right there at his feet, he saw a fabric, a dirty old rag that was covered with concrete dust and holes when fire burnt through here.
He lifted the fabric and shook it to see the flag of our enemy. He stared at it like to an artifact and he then turned to me.
– All of this to make a nation. The destruction, the blood, the lives lost.. All because of the blue piece of fabric? – he murmured to himself, but I heard him.
– It is not the fabric that they adore Sir, it is what it means to them. That brings it value. Apparently it is worth more than life, when they keep watering it with blood. – I said and the heavy silence that followed remained all the way when the Commander got back to his vehicle and drove away.
And some stories I fabricated myself.