There are numerous lines written on soldiers, on how they are filled with sorrow at the lives they have taken; on how a part of them dies along with the ones they have shot; how they think that if they had met under different circumstances, they would “treat if met where any bar is, Or help to half-a-crown.”[1]
”It was the war.
He was my enemy.
If I hadn’t shot him,
He would have shot me.”[2]
War. Man made. It makes a gem of a person kill or hurt another of the same ilk; the other who, just like him, has someone dear waiting for him to return from war; who, just like him, is ready to sacrifice his life. Who, in other words, would be easier to get along with, if only they met in different circumstances.
War – makes them stand against the other, all for a conflict in opinion or a geographical border. It makes one kill the other, even though they have nothing against each other.
The price of war is too high, if only the ones dictating would know of it and choose peace instead. Every time.
And the unlikely friends would get to meet some day, with no weight on their hearts from the encounter.
[1] from The Man He Killed – by Thomas Hardy
[2] from Murder: Most foul – by Sgt. James Lenihan
