The Purple Patch - Missouri Valley College

Taken Over
by Bradley Baker
Everything is clear to me now. It was no war. Saying
it’s a war implies that both parties had a fair chance at winning.
If it was a war, then it was one we could have never
won.
I slowly and cautiously push aside corpse after
corpse as I crawl away from the skirmish, trying desperately
not to be spotted. Finally, I free myself and stand up. The
horror my eyes catch nearly throws me right back down.
Blood is everywhere. It is the lifeblood of my people. What
I see is horrendous, but for reasons unclear to me, I cannot
look away. Several weeks of constant bloodshed transformed
a once beautiful meadow into a putrid field of rotting
flesh. I gaze over at a river once revered for its purity,
now a river of the deepest red.
Looking down at my side, I watch as a steady
stream of dark liquid flows from me. I’d been stabbed,
but when had it happened? Not once had I felt a blade
pierce my skin. No sharp pain had erupted. No pain at all.
Shouldn’t I be feeling something? In fact, I feel no pain at
all. A sudden rush of sheer tranquility hits me as I hear
a voice in my head whisper, “All will be well.” As I begin
to feel my life slowly begin to slip away, out of my grasp,
more words come to me: “You will not escape this war. Tell
them your story …” Overcoming my nearly lifelong fear of
death, I shoulder my pack and begin walking.
It was a war we never could have won.
I’ll never forget my first week in battle. It was the
first time I had witnessed such immense bloodshed. Unaccustomed
to the hardships of war, I vomited for hours.
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