Blind Noncombatants

The truck gently vibrates beneath me as it hums along the country road. I yawn and stretch lazily. Glancing out the open window, I can see we are still moving along at a rapid clip. The air rushing into the cab is predominantly warm, but an occasional cold gust makes me shiver. Winter’s hold was only recently broken in these parts, and its chill bite still lingers in the shadows cast by the occasional stand of trees. But the sun is warm, and life is good.

I wonder how the men in the back are doing. I lean out the window and see the other three trucks following closely behind us. It’s rather cold out here in the wind, but the men in the back are likely quite comfortable, sheltered as they are by the canvas covering. Reassured, I sit back in my seat.

Today’s mission should be an easy one, if all goes well. The platoon commander and executive officer are both down with some kind of fever, so it fell to me to lead the mission. My platoon is tasked with securing and holding a bridge over a nearby river. Though not technically within our lines, the town guarding the bridge should be friendly to our forces and little resistance is expected. I smile. It’s a good day to be a soldier for the Commander.

The driver slows and I look up, startled out of my reverie. I see we are approaching the outskirts of the town. I check my weapon to be sure it’s armed and ready, and then peer alertly out the window. A moment later, we have reached our dropoff point. I thank the driver, jump out of the cab, and signal to the officers in the trucks behind me. The trucks disgorge their loads, and seconds later, a well-secured perimeter is set up. I peer around the corner of an abandoned warehouse at the main street. No hostiles in sight. The vehicles rumble away and we are left alone.

I motion to my men and we begin a rapid but careful advance toward the river, avoiding the main street. A short time later, we arrive at the bridge. There are still no enemies to be seen, but I will take no chances. I send a sniper team across the bridge to scan the surrounding countryside. The land across the river is open fields, bordered by a dark forest a half-mile distant.

My radio squawks.

“Gold team, clear.” A pause. “I don’t like this, sir. Anything could be in those woods.”

“Understood. Hold your position.” I couldn’t agree more with his assessment. The town was quiet on the walk from the dropoff point…too quiet. I ponder my options. “Red team, set up a perimeter around the bridgehead. Make sure to deploy those heavies. Green team, take up positions in the bunkers defending the bridge. Blue team, hold here, but keep those mortars ready. Engineers, rig this bridge up with all the C4 you’ve got. If we can’t have it, neither will they.” I furrow my brow in thought. “Comm?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me coordinates on that treeline. If things go nuts, I want air support yesterday.”

A few moments later, all is secured. The main column should arrive in less than twelve hours. All we have to do is wait.

“Hey!” A shout catches my attention. A solitary man strides angrily toward us from a bar near the bridge. “You warmongerers get out of here! You’ll scare away my customers!”

“It’s ok, sir.” I step toward him, my hands held out soothingly. “We’re here for your protection.”

“Don’t give me any of that! I know your kind!”

“Sir, please calm down. There may be enemies inbound on this position, and we need to hold this bridge. We are not going to bother—“

“Get OUT of this town!”

The angry barkeeper’s shouts are starting to draw attention. I notice other townspeople beginning to gather.

“You and your kind…” He leans close, spewing saliva on me with every word. “You are so intolerant! Why can’t you just go home?! There are no enemies!” The way he said “enemies” made it very clear what he thought.

The crowd is growing larger and begins to offer vocal support to the barkeeper. I mutter to myself and try to calm him down.

“Sir, I can assure you that there are enemies out there. Please calm down; we are only here for your protection.”

“ENOUGH!” he explodes. Turning to the large crowd behind him, he cries, “Are we going to put up with this?”

“No!” they bellow, and surge forward. I tighten my hands on my weapon. We cannot shoot civilians. At the worst, we would be forced to fall back and abandon the bridge.

“I’ll show you how stupid you are,” the barkeeper snarls at me. “I’ll show you myself. Come on!” Waving to the crowd behind him, he shoves past me and stomps down the bridge. The townspeople follow him, shooting me hateful stares as they pass.

“Stop!” I plead. “The enemy is out there!” They laugh in derision and continue their mad rush. They sweep past my befuddled soldiers and mass at the far end of the field.

“See?!” I faintly hear the barkeeper shout. “No enemy soldiers! What a surprise!”

“Come back!” I shout desperately. “You’ll all be killed!”

“Nonsense!” he bellows. “There is no Enemy, and no Commander! It’s all a sham! It’s all—”

His words are swallowed as gunfire erupts from the wood. He falls instantly. I groan in anguish and grab my radio.

“Red team, suppression fire!” I hear the chatter of our heavy machine guns raking the treeline. Yet the woods still spit bullets. Two more townspeople fall, and then five more. Incredibly, they are still dancing about field, screaming about the lack of enemies and taking no notice of their fallen friends.

“Aargh!” I grit my teeth. “Blue team, fire on the treeline! Comm, get me that air support! Snipers free; green and red teams, advance! We’ve got to get those civilians out of there!” As I finish my orders, I hear the “whump” of firing mortars behind. The rounds emit an unearthly whine as they speed overhead. I grab my weapon and dash madly at the woods with my men, firing wildly. Stealthy shapes scream across the river. The treeline erupts in fire, yet townspeople are still falling.

I nearly curse in frustration as I load another clip. Why are they so blind?

* * * * *

In this great war that we fight, there are many noncombatants. All believers in the King are soldiers, yet there are those that have not believed. These are the unarmed, the sheep of the great war that embroils our existence.

There are some sheep that choose simply not to get involved in the battle. These are the most foolish, because they see (or claim to see) the realities at stake, yet still refuse to join the fight.

There are also sheep that see the battle, yet join the wrong army. These unknowing saboteurs try to join the fight, yet end up doing more harm than good.

Then there are sheep that not only refuse to join the battle, but also deny its very existence. They claim that there is no battle, that there is no Enemy, and that there is no King. They can become very vehement when confronted with the true existence of any of these. These are to be pitied, for they are truly blind.

My brothers, do not hate the noncombatants, especially those that are completely blind. Though they seem antagonistic, the Enemy has covered their eyes and stuffed their ears with cotton. Do not tear them down with your words. Speak to them, yes, but let your speech be gentle and wise. And pray to the King, that he might open the eyes of the blind.

My Captain, make me as wise as a serpent and as gentle as a dove.