Prisoners of War

There were three days of solitude in the dark cold cell of mine. Three days of silence, only the foreign muttering of passing guards to grace my ears. They would come three times a day, give me my bread and water, then walk away with a low muttering that probably meant they were pissed off to be given the crappy job of feeding the prisoner. My only source of light in the cell was a single window, three thick metal bars blocking the most of the already very small open hole. The only thing the window really did, was make me able to see the rats a little better as the ate at my shoestrings, and invite the cold insects in at night, so they might sleep in my face and nibble at my neck. Three days of constantly being aware of every single little sounds and smell around you, hoping for something to happen, anything. Then, on the morning of the fourth, something happened.1

I was already awake when I heard the large metal door to the prison being opened. It was the first time it had been opened since I was put here. The prison-guards all mainly seemed to stay inside the prison, and probably had some back door to use whenever they wanted out. The main door was for prisoners, either new ones like myself, or the ones sendt to execution, like the man who had used my cell before me, who was dragged out as I arrived. I heard voices of three men as the door opened. Two of them had to be guards, as I couldn't understand a single word they were saying. The third one was American, no doubt about that.2

"Get your filthy hands off me" he said. Then I heard a sound of leather against skin, the sound of the whips the guards carried around against the flesh of the American. The new prisoner was lucky the guards didn't speak English, cause if they had, I bet they would have done more than just strike him with their whips. I wish I could have seen him then, just peeked through some window on the door. But there was no window on the door, there was no way of seeing this new prisoner. But he had seized talking now, probably grown tired of the constant beating by the whips at his every word. I could clearly hear him being thrown into his cell, forcefully thrown on the floor. He didn't move again before the guards had closed the main door and disappeared out of earshot. Then, as our cells were wall to wall, I heard him get up and sit against the wall, against the very wall I was leaning at.3

"Hey there" I said, louder than I had intended, but still not loud enough to startle the other guy.
"Hey" he said, obviously fatigued.
"So they got you too... What village?" I asked.
"Mai Song" He said. I knew the place, a couple of miles west of here, refugee camp. Left in peace until now, considered neutrual grounds. Something had changed, the war had to be going towards an end. Either they were desperate because we were winning, or they were desperate to strike us down when they finally had the chance. Either way, there was nothing I could do about it.
"Did they take any other prisoners?" I asked, both in hope of few casualties and of more company.
"It was a massacre" the other guy said, as if it answered my question.
"I'm David Daltry, seargant David Daltry. How about you soldier?" I asked, well aware that our enemies would not go through the trouble of imprisoning anyone who wasn't a soldier, and couldn't be used for bargaining.
"Timothy Nigel, private. Tim for short" he said... Tim said. Just a couple of seconds went by before I heard him snore. He had probably been dragged here all the way from Mai Song, beaten all the way down, no wonder he was tired. I was tired too.4

"You've slept for hours Tim" I said as I heard the snoring stop from the other room.
"So it wasn't all a nightmare..." he said, his voice sad, as if he never expected to wake up here.
"They've brought you some bread and water," I said, "but the rats have probably got to the bread by now. Well, there'll be another meal in just a couple of hours"
"I'm not really hungry anyway" Tim said, his breath heavy.
"Trust me, I know." I said, "But it's important to get something down"
"Yeah" Tim agreed. I bet he was nodding to himself. I could hear him put down the glass of water, he had probably had a sip or two. No matter how sick one felt in this place, water was always a fresh relief. And as long as the rats didn't get to it, there was nothing wrong with the bread either. 5

"So, David, how long have you been here?" Tim asked.
"This is my fourth day" I answered. No need to lie there.
"And the guards are treating you alright?" he asked, probably afraid to be beaten. No, not probably, I could hear he was afraid.
"They haven't touched me since they threw me in here" I said, yet again honestly.
"Good... good" Tim said, relief in his voice.
"So, Tim, did you defend the camp for long before they took you?" I asked, not really knowing what else to talk about, but eager to talk at all.
"I was stationed there for months, and nothing happened. Then, last night, I heard one of the sick kids at the camp scream. See, I was in charge of the sick-ward, some kind of soldier-nurse." Tim said, followed by a little laugh. Let it out soldier-nurse, I thought, let it out. That's what one does to cope, either you cry, or you laugh. It's surprising how fast one goes over to being the other. Tim was crying now, I heard that.
"Her name was Aya," he started again, trying to stop his sobbing, "she was eleven years old, and so damned adorable that you wouldn't believe it. She had lost eyesight on one of her eyes when her best friend had stepped on a landmine and a splinter had hit her. Her whole right arm had been scarred and burned by the explotion, but she was the bravest little girl I've ever met. And one of the few in there who could actually talk English, and just got better and better all the time too. I used to sit with her for hours, just talking or teaching her some new words. She was always the first to talk to me in the morning and the last to say goodnight in the evening. That's the girl I heard scream. Then came the gunshots." Tim's words were more and more drowned out, until he had to take a break before he continued. I waited patiently, and listened to his story with great interest and compassion. Poor man. But we had all lost something in the war, and I bet Aya wasn't the only thing he'd lost either. He comfirmed this later, but before that, he finished his story of the previous night.
"I ran to the sick-ward as fast as I could, and I could barely see her and all the others in there before two guards took hold of me and started beating me. She lay there on a bed, her yellow dress ripped, blood all around her. She just lay there, everyone just lay there. So lifeless and still." Right then, a guard came with our last food of the day. We both ate in silence, and didn't say a word for hours. But even though we didn't talk, it felt good just knowing there was someone friendly around. It was good to hear his breath through the stone wall of my cold cell. Good to have a friend again.6

"So how did you end up here, David?" Tim suddenly asked after hours of silence and countless brief naps that I hoped would soon go over to real sleep.
"It... It was my last day here when I was captured" I said, it was a lot harder to talk about it then I had thought. It had all replayed in my head so many times, still it was hard to say it out loud, hard to accept the occurances of that day as a fact. And still, as it was the hardest day in my life, the worst day of my life, it had also been my best. So I started telling Tim the story. It was easier as I went on, and even though it was hard to talk about, I remembered every little detail of the day.7

I woke up that morning in the village of Bat Son, where I had been stationed for just a little more than a week alongside five other soldiers from my troop. I remember waking up with a good feeling, and a smile on my face. It was early in the morning, five o'clock, but I still went straight to the phone and called the hospital where my wife, Lydia, was at. Luckily, Lydia was at home, far away from the war. Safe. And she was pregnant with our first child. She had gone into labor the previous night, but the doctors had told me to go to sleep, cause it could take some time, and that I should call at once when I woke up to get status report. And so I did. It didn't take me long to realize that something was wrong. The mood became so solemn at once when I mentioned my name to the nurse who piced up the phone. I could feel already then that the day wasn't going to turn out as good as I had imagined.
"Mr.Daltry" said my wifes doctor. He was the only doctor my wife and I had used for years and years now. He had never called me anything but David before. My stumach churned and I felt ill even before he said it.
"There were complications during the birth" he said. My immidiate thoughts went to Lydia and Allison or James. We had decided not to get to know the sex of the child before we had it, but we had the names ready long ago. Girl meant Allison, boy meant James. We had agreed about the two names from the very start. I had no favorites, I would love my Allison just as much as I would have loved my James.
"Is the baby allright?" I almost yelled into the phone.
"The girl is fine" the doctor answered. The girl, he said. Allison. My Allison.
"Then what..." I didn't even think before talking. Lydia.
"Your wife... I am so sorry Mr.Daltry, but your wife didn't make it."
That's when the power was cut, and the phone died. Then I heard gunshots, and someone who barely spoke English wanted everyone to lie down on the ground. I did, but all that went through my mind as I saw some of my comrades being shot while defending the camp, was about Lydia and Allison. I needed to go to Allison, at once. Of course, it turned out that I had been the only soldier to actually lie down, I was the only of the five to live. And then I was brought to the prison. Three days of thoughts about home, about my wife, about my daughter. Then Tim arrived.8

"I'm so sorry" Tim said.
"Thanks" I said, nodding my head.
"I bet we'll win this war soon, and then we'll both be able to go home" Tim said, enthusiasm in his voice.
"Yeah, let's hope so" I said, smiling at the newfound enthusiasm of my new friend. "So how about you Tim, what did you leave back home? Anyone special?" I asked.
"Actually, I've been in a relationship for a while now," Tim said, "and I'm looking forward to seeing my love again"
"So it's the one?" I asked, my smile finally in place for more than a brief moment.
"I hope... I think so" Tim answered.
"What's her name then?" I asked.
"His name is Jonah" Tim answered, a bit hesitant.
"Jonah, a nice name" I said, meaning it.
"Nothing about me being gay?" Tim asked, apparently worried about prejudice, probably from experience.
"You're not the only homosexual I've ever met" I said, a little laugh following my statement.
"But how about the only gay black friend you've ever had?" Tim asked, his tone humorous.
"I actually didn't know you were African-American... Now that I don't approve of" I said, knowing he'd get my sarcasm.
"Should wish everyone were that accepting" Tim said, serious now.
"Didn't use to be like that with me either," I said, "but I found out that my sister was lesbian, and I realized that it didn't make any difference at all."
"I remember the last time I saw Jonah" Tim suddenly said, a minute or so of silence had gone by. "He was so silent that day. The day I went over here. Now I just wish I'd said something... And not just left"
"I know the feeling" I said, "There is so much I wish I could have done and said before I left."
"And now we'll never get the chance" Tim said silently.
"Hey, where did that enthusiasm go?" I asked. But there was no answer, just a sigh from the other cell. And then we both fell asleep.9

"So where do you live, back in the states?" Tim asked after we had both recieved out breakfast the following morning.
"Sunny California" I said, sweet thoughts about home entering my mind, before the sad thoughts about Lydia came again, and of Allison, lonely Allison that might not ever have her real mom or dad around.
"Then we might be neighbors," Tim said, "That's my hideout as well"
"Really, where then?" I asked, and at that point we exchanged adresses. Turned out we lived some distance from each other, but still, it was in the same state.
"You a religious man David?" Tim asked after a while.
"Agnostic" I said.
"Isn't that some kind of Atheist-alike?" Tim asked. Nobody ever hears about agnostics anymore.
"Well, not too far from it, in my case. But it's really more about being unable to believe, because there is no way to prove or disprove certain things. If some God poked me on the shoulder and talked to me however, I would have proof, and I would have a reason to believe. Now I have none" I said. Religion wasn't my favorite subject, but I had my thoughts about it. Sometimes I call myself Agnostic, sometimes it's Atheist, for the sake of simplicity.
"How about you Tim?" I asked. In reality, I couldn't imagine an African-American homosexual soldier as the most religious of men, but I had been wrong about many things before.
"Christian, catholic since birth" he said.
"And what does your parish think of you? I'm sorry to say, but the christian church seems unable to accept a great number of things" I said, it was my view on things. I could be wrong.
"I'm well accepted, thank you" Tim said, "my parish is of the best, and I consider myself lucky to be able to worship God alongside my neighbors and friends back home"
"I'm glad" I said, and I did mean it.10

Before 'dinner' came that day, I had almost fallen asleep. Tim and I had stopped talking a little while ago, in favor of trying to get some rest. Thoughts about Lydia became hard to control as I lay there. I remembered so well the last time I saw her. Only a couple of weeks ago, it seemed an eternity. Her long brown hair flowing in the wind as she waved goodbye outside our house when I was picked up by a taxi, going to the airport. She was wearing a long red silk robe, and she held one hand on her stomache the whole time as she stood there. Allison was kicking a lot those days, a healthy sign, and Lydia loved the feeling. The last thing I saw before we drove out of sight, was Lydia throwing me a kiss. Then I waved a my beautiful girl, and was, unknowingly, never to see her again. Then I fell asleep in my cell, and all my dreams was of her, her and Allison. I imagined us, all three, as a family years in the future. Allison was a beautiful teenage girl, and Lydia was pregnant again. If only I had woke up then, inside my dream.11

And I did wake up, but not in the dream. No, something was strange, there were strange noises from Tim's cell, and there was that foreign talk again. I could hear two guards being in Tim's cell.
"Go ahead, take me, and let him alone" I heard Tim say. One of the foreign men answered in English, so it was someone else than the guards, someone from another part of the camp we were in, I guessed, maybe some superior officer.
"We're giving you the chance option to choose between yourself and the other, and this is your answer? Very well" the foreign man said, his English was good, the pronounciation not so much.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Nothing much" Tim answered at once, he sounded to be in a good mood.
"Your friend here is going away, permanently" the guard, or officer, said.
"Where are you taking him, are you letting him go?" I asked, hoping the answer would be a plain yes.
"No" said the English-talking man.
"They're just going to take some pictures of me" Tim said.
"Shut up, prisoner" the officer said, and there was the sound of leather-whip against skin again. And then I knew what was going on. This wasn't the first time they would kill some poor American soldier in front of the camera just to send some message.
"No, take me instead!" I shouted.
"Quiet!" The officer shouted back. But I didn't stop, I repeated my cry again and again. The other man I had heard earlier, probably a guard, opened the door to my cell. His whip was in his hand, and he started swinging it at me. Then, briefly, I saw Tim being dragged by two guards right past my open cell-door, going to his own execution. He looked at me and smiled as he passed. It was the first and only time I ever saw him.
"You just take care of your little girl, and if you can, tell Jonah that I'm sorry. Good luck David, good luck!" He shouted. His words not subdued by the constant beating of whips as he talked. But then, silence, as I heard the big iron door to the prison being opened. My own assaulter had stopped hitting me, and now walked out and closed the door to my cell behind him. I could hear a singly shot from outside about half an hour after they had dragged Tim out there. The shot ecchoed in the air for what seemed to be hours.12

*13

The camp was overrun by allies about a week or two later. I had lost count of days by then. Tim was the only other prisoner to ever be there alongside me. I was the only one there. I was sendt back to the states the very same day I was freed. Allison got to grow up with a dad after all. And my dreams were partially true, cause she is a beautiful young girl, and I love her with all my heart. I've also befriended Jonah, he turned out to be a priest. I am still not religious, but I can't help but think of Timothy as being anywhere else than in some sort of heaven. Right there alongside Aya and Lydia.