A/N: War is a controversial thing. Life is not. Life of a soldier is a controversial thing. A soldier's death is not.
This is written in memory of all those who fought, fight and will not stop fighting so that ordinary people, of which I am one, can have the ability to lead their simple lives.
The story is purely fictional and not in any way accurate. I just wish to somehow express my thanks that there are brave people, both men and women, who are willing to stand up for others. The world is not idealistic. But today, I will leave it to God to judge and condemn. Today I want to simply thank and honor and wish for happiness of those involved.
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Journal of an unknown soldier, taken during the Second Great Conflict.
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July 6, 1944
Finally, assigned to my own squad with other recruits. These long six months of training are over and I can finally depart. They gave us several days off to see our family and loved ones. It was a bittersweet time. Judy was still peeved at the fact she was rejected from the army. So funny. She means well, I know it, but hell if I would ever allow one of my children to fight in an actual war...
August 13, 1944
I don't know what to write. When we were in the training we were told to lead a diary to help with stress of the war. But what am I to write about? How it is completely different from the trainings and simulations? How it takes just a single bullet for a mammal my size to just explode? Oh dear Creator, I can still see the image of Jimmy getting hit by one. Squad leader Savage simply said something about bears and gave me a kick to the butt. For standing still while my orders were to advance forward. He is just… so uncaring. We never got any time to know one another in the squad because of the constant assaults and then trench wars. How I hate tranches. When we don't run from one line of tranches to the other we are under constant bombardment and fire. My ears has gotten used to it though. I wonder if it is good?
September 24, 1944
We got seven new members to our squad to replace those killed and too injured to continue. There are eleven of us in total now. A hare, a rabbit, a fox, a wolf, two rams, a boar, a bobcat, a coyote, and two gazelle guys. Our squad commander Savage, he is a hare by the way, is apparently second longest member of the squad. The wolf, Whitefang, or the fox, Wilde, apparently hold the first place. They joke I have to thank my lucky feet for still being alive. What does this have to do with anything?
October 7,1944
They are crazy! Squad commander and our sniper duo are out of their brains! How do they expect to take over a town without any kind of support? We were just sent out to recon the place! I don't want to die! And they sit around the dirtmap that fox just drew and already plan on taking it away! I know they want to free these lands from occupation that lasted more than five years already, but… Told to shut up and that there would be no but's involved. The trio got to laughing after that. What was so funny?
October 8, 1944
We were ordered to keep our position for two weeks and then return to position zero. Apparently the only ones to participate in the operation drawn up by Squad commander is he himself, the sniper duo and the bobcat. The boar, Swinton, is left in charge. We are ordered to hide our presence and not to open fire unless circumstances make it unavoidable. After shooting we are to abandon this place and retreat.
October 11, 1944
I dared to voice my thoughts on the four departed predators deserting. The coyote, Steppenson, just laughed in my face. The others didn't seem to care much. Is this idea that stupid or are they just that naive?
October 13, 1944
I might really be in the wrong here. Savage, Wilde and Whitefang are apparently well known in the army as TNT, short for Troublesome Invincible (or insane, depending on the one who speaks) Threesome. They joined in the 1940, not too long after the war started. Wilde and Whitefang are the original members of the squad I am in. Savage was their third commander, and apparently, he stuck. The squad lived through seven complete reshaffles with the trio at its core over the four years of war. I lived through one of those myself. Anyways, the TNT had a long tally of kills and successfully completed retakes/ liberations of small towns and villages. Strange I never heard of them.
October 17, 1944
We have to retreat in five days and there are still no news from the Squad commander. We can sometimes hear shots being fired in the town, but nothing much beyond that.
October 18, 1944
The bobcat, Anthony, has returned with orders for us to retreat immediately. The enemy presence is apparently larger than expected initially. The trio would try and lure them away from our position. They are truly crazy…
November 1, 1944
Squad commander Savage and the sniper duo have made it back to the position zero where we were waiting for them. And no worse for the wear than when they were leaving. They even sported some new equipment, that I never wish to know where it came from. We are retreating back to the HQ to report our findings. The TNT look more spirited than ever…
December 1, 1944
After our return from recon, the squad was once more thrown into the thick of fighting. How I hate trenches. No sanitary norms upheld, no resemblance to any normal living conditions, nothing. Just dirt, and if you are lucky you can get a patch reinforced with some wooden planks. In the previous month our squad underwent another reshuffle. Seven new members. Could be eight, but Wilde covered me with his body from that small throwstick. Would have ripped me apart with the shrapnel, but only got stuck in his thick winter overcoat. The fox now sports a nick in his right ear that he never tires of joking about. Says it suits his name. Crazy fox. But I am nearly used to this and they consider me to be one of them now. Still, TNT sounds better than TNF that others started labeling us. But… it feels kinda good.
December 25, 1944
We are winning. We all feel it. They fight desperately, but it becomes less and less efficient. Their forces run out of ammo and retreat much more often than not. No more yiffing trenches, now its field and city fights. Our squad is much more busy with covering Wilde and Whitefang while they are playing with their sniper rifles, rather than actually advancing in the frontlines, which suits me just fine. We get our share of action when we engage antisniper squads sent out by the enemy to neutralize the threat of our canine duo. Oh, this is the first Christmas I am spending away from my family. I wonder how they are out there? Dear Creator, do I miss Bonnie.
February 9, 1944
It isn't strange for mammals to fight. I mean, just look at how numerous the differences between us are! Tall and small, wide and lean, living in packs or solitude, farmers or hunters, predators or prey… Few against the masses. I believe it is an actual miracle only so little of us has actually gone extinct with how much hatred has been actually turned into killing. This war is no different. Dreams of deluded grandeur simply obscure the true reason for our killing. The hate towards everything and everyone around us. Or is it just me? I thought I joined this war for my brothers and sisters, my family and loved ones. But… I don't know anymore. Dear Creator, why do we keep wishing to fight?
April 6, 1944
They got Savage. Whitefang shielded him from the worst of the explosion, but the hare's sensitive eardrums burst. Our Squad commander is no longer fit to carry out his duties. He will be sent to the closest hospital army can provide, given his service record, but there are no replacements available right now. The fox will be promoted to Squad commander. The TNF, once more becomes TNT. I wish it wouldn't though, no matter how lame TNF sounds. The squad will not be the same place. We tell Savage as much, but he just flipped the three of us off and told us to come visit him once this war is over.
May 1, 1945
We are so close to ending this war. Yet still I can't let go of this awful feeling of disappointment. What have I done through it? Have I saved anyone with my actions? With the tens of other mammals I killed personally? Wilde keeps telling me I did. That the difference between victory and defeat oftentimes is decided by a single man. Even as seemingly insignificant as a rabbit. I wish I could simply shrug it off as he does. Wilde is a funny fellow. Red fox, presently in his late twenties, coming from a family of a tailor who died in the first war when he just turned three. Raised by his mother and a family of wolves, who helped them out. Wilde is a sniper, operating in cooperation with Whitefang, the wolf he grew up with. Both have no reservations when it comes to killing, though it seems to have something to do with the place they grew up. Zootopia, Happytown. Apparently, all the happiness of that district and all the utopia of the city were only enough for the names. I am glad I grew up in Bunnyburrow.
May 2, 1945
The duo are veterans of this war. When I asked them why, they just answered with sad smiles with "who but us"? Both left their dreams for this. Wilde had just opened an attraction park for predators, but left it and his mother without thinking much. Apparently his friend Finnick is managing the assets for now.
Whitefang, a tall black furred wolf, was in a relationship with a lovely lynx girl, who he wanted to propose to when he would be able to support a family. But when he told her it was his duty to fight, she didn't want to wait for him. He was also hoping to open a self defense school for small and middle sized mammals. He is actually the youngest among us at just twenty years old. Apparently, Wilde played the role of an older brother. I can see that in the way they both behave similarly, that half-lidded gaze and infuriating smirk practically identical, despite how different their muzzles are. I envy them. Wonder how my brothers and sisters are? How is my wife and children doing? Especially Jude the Dude with her dream of being a sheriff. Dear Creator, give me strength to live through this.
\m/ Three years later \m/
- Well, for being pretty brief and writing on his knees, he sure had a nice pawmanship. - A tall black wolf, sitting in the driver's seat of a dark green Willys MB, told his fox partner currently reading the diary aloud. They recently entered Bunnyburrow county and were now trying to find a road that would lead to their destination. The road was bumpy, but well trudged so it was almost no problem for the army vehicle. Still, the wolf kept a slow steady pace.
- And a much nicer voice than any of yours. I am trying to sleep, so shut up, pelts. - An irritated nearshout sounded from the backseat of the MB, just wide enough to allow for a hare to almost comfortably lie down.
- You are supposed to be deaf, Savage, so why don't you consider yourself blessed being able to hear my wondrous voice, ungrateful rabbit stew?
- Wilde, I have been listening to you for a good half of a decade, and was finally able to enjoy some quiet until those yiffing doctors decided it was more fun to see me suffer again! In your constant presence, being deaf is a freaking blessing!
- Now you are just being mean, former Squad commander. Aaaaand, why don't you show some of that respect towards your senior officers, you always preached about?
- Oh, look who's talking. How about you get some of your own medicine, blockhead?!
As the other two kept their bickering, the wolf just smiled and kept his eyes on the road. Surrounded by open fields of different crops, it being early in August some already cleared and others being prepared for harvesting, he wasn't able to see too far and the map of the district didn't help much. They would never find their destination like that. Good thing there happened to be a produce stand slightly off the road they followed.
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Stuart Hopps was a hardworking mammal. He loved his wife, his children and his life. Yes, the life he led as a farmer was quiet and mostly devoid of excitements, but he could honestly say that he prefered it that way. The buck was fed up with adrenaline and risks. No more. Peace and quiet were the true way to lead a life. Being surrounded by his family and the earth he was cultivating with great results was more than enough for him to be totally fulfilled. But, as he was enjoying the view of his fields, children playing and bunnies caring about the plots assigned to them, leaning on a wall of the main entrance towards their burrow, the buck was drawn out of his musings by the voice he sometimes dreaded to hear. And judging by the excited and eager tone, one of his children, the young and impulsive doe he lovingly nicknamed Jude the Dude, found something to pester him about.
- Dad! Dad! Guess what?! - The gray furred bunny, aged twenty four, was a deputy sheriff of Bunnyburrow, on her forced vacation after four years of uninterrupted work. She was literally dragged out of the sheriff's office with orders to stay away from it and her badge for at least two months. The active bunny did not take kindly to such an act, but after several days of brooding, she returned back to her bubbly self and started once more terrorize her father with crazy ideas and stunts. Stu hoped this she didn't have some other "innovation" to implement in the field that would "really help everyone".
- Hey, Jude the Dude. What's the fuss about? - Regardless, Stu loved her, and the smile on his face was genuine, if a bit strained with worry.
- There are three soldiers asking after you. At least, I think so, judging from their description of the rabbit they've been searching for. There is a hare, a fox and a wolf. I believe they named themselves Savage… - The buck, seemingly doubtful after her first words, set off in a flurry of dust after hearing the name, leaving behind his dumbfounded daughter. But, Judy was not the one to stand still for long, so she ran in the direction her father took several moments later.
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It happened on the fifth of May, year nineteen forty five. The last day of actual mass fighting, he learned a bit later. As usual, the buck and his squad were occupying a position chosen by the squad's sniper duo. At some point they were spotted and shot at. But just when Squad commander Wilde gave an order to regroup, the brick building was hit and collapsed. When he awoke in a hospital a week after the final assault his squad took part in, the buck was told he was the last survivor of the squad. No one else was found in one piece or alive under the debris of the building that collapsed from a direct hit of a megatank shell. To say that Stuart was devastated, was an understatement. He mourned for his lost friends, but he knew they would not care for this much. Wilde would claim that he always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Whitefang would simply wonder if he would be confused with a bear. And Stuart actually never got a word back about Savage. The difficulty and bierocracy of armies of so many nations… With several years passing, Stuart lost all hope to ever get in touch with his former Squad commander. After all, it was nearly impossible with just a name.
Yet, here the TNT stood, in his parking spot, surrounded by several of his children, that were curious about the soldiers on their farm. They were just as he remembered when he first saw them. Grumpy looking Savage with his hands crossed and an air of foreboding surrounding him. Smug Wilde, helping the bravest of his younger sons by holding them up, so they could grab onto the stretched out hands of Whitefang, the wolf sporting a trademark Wilde smirk while pretending to be some sort of a bunny workout machine.
The hare has noticed his former subordinate first and was just about to jump away, but was too late. With a resigned look on his face, Savage found himself being stuck in a strong hug, while the slightly shorter buck just weeped. Soon after, to the hares great horror that bloomed on his muzzle, the wolf and the fox joined in, both lagomorphs and the vulpine hefted into the air by the much stronger canine.
This was a reunion that Stuart dreamed of sometimes. When he could not sleep. When the buck was traversing the memories from the longest year and a half of his life. The time that he survived thanks to his fellow brothers in arms. Who never cared for the differences that their species, their birth, established between them all. Who just were there, who got his six, while he watched theirs, shared the same dirt and planks that he slept on in the trenches. Who covered him from certain dangers that only the buck would have to face during the war. And he covered them from certain dangers that only he could spot. All for one, and one for all.
As the four soldiers remained in a silent hug, they all had but a single prayer in their minds. "Dear Creator, bless every soldier with such siblings in arms and a happy ending after war."