War and Peace

War, in the words of General William T Sherman, is hell. He knew that. In fact, he knew that even training for war is hell. But what hell is, what war really is, was beyond his worst imagination.

All of a sudden, a smile came onto his lips. A wry smile, emanating from the conflict of thoughts as to whether or not he will have plenty of time to think it over and philosophise about war. For he knew he was about to be taken as a prisoner of war. His post had been destroyed in the enemy shelling and he was one of the only two men left alive. Two out of a merry company of twenty eight young men!! The Lieutenant was not the best of leaders, but he was still an ok chap... May his soul rest in peace... The only other person alive was the signaller, and he would have been better dead. A radio antenna is not likely to be much comfort to a signaller if the antenna tip is securely lodged in the operator's abdomen, or so he felt... Not that there was anything of the radio left...

And he could see the kaafirs advancing now.. They were treading cautiously, not knowing the extent of damage inflicted on his post. Cowards!! But how would they treat him? A royal welcome was unlikely, he thought and smiled again. He had heard stories of torture and abuse of prisoners of war. Hell, he had himself tortured a pilot who had had to eject from his MiG 21 and had landed in their area. At that time it had seemed fun...

The thought of torture was starting to take root in his mind. Initially he tried to think brave. Let them do whatever, I will not say a word. The only things I will tell is my name, rank and unit. If they try to torture me, I will take the name of Geneva Convention. Hell, how many times did we honour it??

One of the enemy was nearing him now. He thought of committing suicide, but he would require the use of his hands for that... And he did not have those, at least not what he could use...

(to be continued...)