Ash and soot stained the eyes of uniformed men trudging through the mud, the taste of dried blood on their tongues as they ventured north. The soldiers were ordered not to look down, not to look back.
The heat and exhaustion got to Benedict, his eyes slowly straying from the path his vision was meant to follow. His feet began to swell, his toes bulging at the seams of his thick, leather boots. He remembers the moment he first put them on, when they had fit perfectly.
“Eyes up,” the general ordered efficiently, Benedict snapping his neck up almost instantly. His eyes watered guiltily, washing away the ash that had stained his green eyes to a dark, apricot brown. “No looking down, now.”
In a fit of unconscious emotion, a soft whimper arose from the crowd of men. The general halted, looking back towards his soldiers with an intimidating glance.
“What was that?” he growled, spotting the splotchy red eyes of Benedict, heavy with an unknown sadness that silently plagued the rest of his men. “Private Richards, a word.”
Benedict inched forward, his head down. When he reached the front, the general grabbed him by the chin and forced his attention up.
“Never look down,” the general scolded, Benedict rubbing his chin. “There’s nothing for you down there.”
Benedict was a rather short man, the general crouching down to meet him at eye level. “What are you, son?”
“A soldier.” Benedict answered swiftly, the same answer he had given every commanding officer with no qualms before today.
“What else?” the general urged, Benedict not shy to show his apparent confusion.
“I’m sorry…?”
“Well, there must be something else,” the general shrugged. “What made you a soldier?”
“I just love my country, sir.” Benedict saluted him.
“I see…” the general mumbled, rubbing his hairy chin that had sprouted patches of dark grey. “And what does it mean to be a soldier?”
“To die for your country,” the answer had slipped out, not a thought put behind his words. “It’s an honor.”
The general shook his head, disappointed. “There’s more to being a soldier than dying, son,” the general corrected. “And if you asked me the same question, I’d have you boys clear out your afternoon.”
For the first time, the general looked towards the ground. His eyes were blank, hollow.
“These men died fighting for us, and yet you remain standing,” the general spoke aloud. “What does that mean to you?”
Benedict shrugged.
“Well… only you can decide that, I’m afraid,” the general huffed, looking out towards the rest of his men. “And that goes for the rest of you.”
“I want to be a soldier, sir,” Benedict raised his voice, his back straight and arms to his sides. “I want to die for my country and live out a legacy.”
“Then answer me this, son. Would you rather die honorably,” there was a slight pause. “Or live honorably?”
