The Foxhole

The earth shakes. Thunderous explosions rend the ground, fountaining dirt and debris thirty feet into the air. Automatic weapons crackle between ear-shattering concussions. A deep rumble announces the arrival of a tank. The muzzle flashes and a shell speeds on its way. A tall pine tree splinters at its impact, the treetop crashing to the earth as its base is suddenly destroyed. Tracers light up the night sky as shadowy shapes scream overhead on their missions of death.

In a small hole in the ground, I cower, trying to fit as much of my body as is humanly possible behind my helmet. Waves of terror roll over me, threatening to overwhelm my mind. I cling to sanity by a narrow thread, my nervous system taxed by an ordeal that it was not designed to endure. For what seems like hours, I quiver in my prison, not daring to even raise my head.

At long last, the hellish nightmare appears to be subsiding. The horrific explosions slow, then cease altogether. No dark shapes blacken the sky overhead and only the moon illuminates the dirt at my feet. The gunfire becomes sporadic, lessening from the constant chatter that it had been a short time before. I muster the courage to stand to my feet and peer over the edge of my hole. The tank burns across the clearing. As I listen, the gunfire ceases altogether. In its place, I hear a faint noise. I cock my head to listen. A faint smile crosses my face as I realize its source. The men are cheering.

Sinking down to the bottom of my hole again, I sit with my back against the wall and breathe a sigh of relief. I take off my helmet and wipe the sweat from my brow. I look down at my shaking hands. A sudden thought occurs to me. Digging in my pack, I retrieve a pencil and a small pad of paper. I chew on the eraser. Where to begin? Ah yes. Putting pencil to paper, I begin to write.

* * * * * * *

A war rages around us. Whether we acknowledge it or not, the war certainly exists. It has gone on since the beginning of time and will continue until the end, a colossal struggle between Good and evil that cannot be avoided.

Humans are swept into the battle like leaves caught by floodwaters. They go with the flow, not realizing they have just sided with the enemy and condemed themselves for all eternity.

All would be lost if not for the Captain of the Light. Picking a select number of humans, he freely forgave their treason, showed them the truth of the battle, and gave them new strength to fight the current.

The war continues. Casualties fall like flies, yet the wounds are miraculously never fatal. Fellow soldiers help the fallen up and they are restored stronger than they were before.

We press on. Ultimate victory is assured. We have a Leader whose face shines like the sun.

Men boast of riches, fame or glory. I care little for those things.

I am a soldier of ONE.