Short story of a failed soldier ep 4


“How, do you dear!” I shouted angrily.

Bartolomjei was one of my dearest companions, we used to call each other ‘Sharks’ because we were blind like predators. With him, I felt like I was  growing under a light which his courage emanated, that’s why I could respect even  the most dreadful of his tastes. He used to share with me the pleasure he gained from shooting people and we laughed about how clever we were becoming in the sight and in the sprint.They where intense days, and he was the only one who could always lift me up, a tough joker, with hard balls, he could have been a general, for sure. I reinstated:  ‘You definitely know nothing about him he was…’

“Honestly- the vicious interrupted – nobody cares, he lays in the field of white flowers like everybody else, he did not win a war and never will he be celebrated, but a stone will crush his body. His death is the important thing! For you, only, he became a martyr, because you see the soil of this land drenched with nationalist water.  When you will pass away, who is going to be there to recall his value?  Instead, if you help me publish my words, he will be forever remembered as the purest spirit fighting for the honor of Poland”.

…“the purest spirit fighting for the honor of Poland? No no no! I knew that guy, he was a perverse killer, and you knew we all were, otherwise you wouldn’t have stayed in the back and snuggle up. I find no history in this poems, but only a medieval fantasy and surely not my friend, now, I am tired of you, get out”!

“ I deeply resented that particular soldier” the poet still had the guts to speak “but I now I respect because he  achieved his full duty, to die; to die and to put an end to the war, because when to many dead will occur then we will see the end to this mess”. And left.


Short story of a failed soldier Ep 3

One day I received a visit from Dunajski, he made it too, but I was not very glad he came around. Intoxicated with my new reputation I did not want to be seen with the least honourable of the soldiers, the one who decided not to fight, who stayed in the back lines, recording miserably the orders of the sergeants and the names of the deads. The memory of  him sneaking out and approaching the fallen men, sitting next to them for hours disgusted me.

We had a glass of milk at the kitchen table, but he did not take off his coat, he came there with a purpose. At one point he said: ” ehi, remember that little obsession I had?”, “yeah, the name records” I said lowering my sight,” Exactly! I am so glad you remember- and smiled lovely- Look I know you are now very busy with all your meetings and conspirators planning, but I would like you to have a look at what I’ve wrote while we were at the front one year ago”. He handed my some papers, smooth as they were first taken out from a printing press, ” what is this Alexandre”?

He suddenly stared at me leaning his bold head towards me and he gave me a pitiful look, ” what a problematic person” I thought, “read them please, you are the only one I know who can make value out of this words”.

I panted, but his sorrowful eyes were still on me, so I had to start reading:

….of Bartolomjei whose pain is silent, but echoes trough the mountains,

you died screaming for their sake,

you beloved peaks, where you have never been

and never you will go.

Every step you followed, heavily breathing for the cold,

they brought you to this,

a glorious fate!

In me you met your creator, and from the soil you are now rebirth,

I will sing you your song

and the mountains will finally hear you name. 


Short Story of a failed Soldier Ep 2

“Well, you succeed against war” Mike interrupted, ” Yes, I escaped” he  answered   mechanically turning his head towards my friend and showing him all the languish in his pale eyes. ” Learning to be a soldier was easy, you have to stop to think and start doing and remember! There is not such an easy way of remembering as when learn to be a soldier because each thing finds a link with other things, instructions become mental schemes;     I enjoyed making my bed, washing floors, charging the weapons, marching, peeling, repeating… When I had some spare time, I used to look at the other soldiers, they where as me: strong, ambitious and precise, they could carry out commands as perfectly as I did and that’s what I liked about the competition between such masculine individuals: it lied in their capabilities of adapting to an intensive lifestyle, but it was a celebration of life.

One of those days training, a soldier, Alexandre Dunajski, who came from a nearby village, sit next to me and asked ” What do you think makes a valiant and honourable soldier”? I replied almost instantly with a computational intuition, ” to fight with courage and defeat the enemy”, my assertion was solid. ” What do YOU think makes a valiant soldiers”? I saw in his eyes a sense of liquid loss, ” to die, I think”.

So when the war began, we camped in the field and everyday, 30 people died and everyday I shoot 10 people. We run for the highest, and It felt like a game, as long as you and the boys you knew survived. In the first year as a soldier, I could not succeed but at least I knew I tried to help my country, and I survived! whats more honourable than that? Plus, when I got back home everybody was treating me as a respectable figure to which to refer to for  serious matters such as war, Germany and politics.

Short Story of a Failed Soldier Ep 1

This is the short story of a failed soldier, the smiling security guy told us, puffing out the second cigarette we’d been offering him. You’ve been told little about the war in Poland, and surely this story will not enlighten you but is really important for me, it explains the reason why I am here, in this foreign country, distant to my wife and kids and with a humble job that does not reflect my abilities. We were distant from him, he was so much older than us and from his over friendly tone of voice we felt that he did not offer any compromise, hence, beyond the two cigarettes we offered him we even had to listen to his little tale. “You see” he began ” the world is changed, first you had to to born privileged to study, then you’d be privileged enough to get a privileged job that your privileged education ensured you” his English vocabulary wasn’t really refined, ” today – he continued- you don’t have to be privileged to get an education but you are not sure to get to that privileged job you came to aspire to, and if you do not study, well, lock away all your ambitions”. At that point he got a bit emotional and he stop looking at us, his spirt had transfigured away to a far eastern past, and we had to follow him in this time travel. ” “When I was called to serve the army at the age of 18, I never felt so enthusiastic, of course I was not privileged, and I believed that the army could have given me the discipline , that could elevate me from the tiny boutique in which I ended up working. I was literally looking forward to learn to shoot, to run, to hide and to kill. I think the war was useful to that reason, It eliminated marketplace competition, thus giving others the space and the time useful to succeed, tough many people died and is really sad”.