Unknown Soldier
The grave is marked with a simple wooden cross. In some few years, it won't be marked at all. The wood will succumb to the elements, rot away in the rain and hail and snow and sun. Soon, someday, a child will shriek and trample over the same spot, peacefully, happily unaware of the sleeping head over which he laughs.
Until then, in the crisp November air, the slim body of another soldier stands outlined in the dying red orange sunlight, giving way to the pale blue of twilight. He remembers telling the one sleeping blissfully beneath the dirt that everything would be alright. That he could close his eyes, just for a little. Rest, because England acknowledged him. That all of England was proud. Remembers the smile that pulled at deathly pale skin, even as the dying soldier coughed up blood and admitted in a hoarse whisper that he was scared.
The soldier is joined by another, who stands sombrely just behind him with nothing to say, watching the grave that will someday not be a grave.
"I didn't know his name." The first soldier admits in a soft grunt, shoulders hunching as though it wounded him somewhere deep to say the words. "B-but, I told him…I told him-."
"It wasn't a lie." the second says gently, hand reaching out to comfort before thinking better of it, arm falling limply back to his side, silence engulfing them once more. Around them, a breeze whispers over the barren field, betraying the horror that occurred mere hours ago, forgotten as the battle moves on. Pushes west.
"He was just a boy." the first grouses, voice rippling with weakness that the second recognizes but doesn't comment on. A boy. The thought strikes deep. A boy younger than him. Far younger. "He must of enlisted and then -…" He stops, turns around to look at the second soldier with wet green eyes. " What's wrong with this? They pledge to help us! Fight in our name! Fight for our sake! For everyone's-!"
He's cut off by a fierce hug, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders before he can work himself into a state of depression, and tries not to see the smile of that boy, that soldier who believed him when he said everything would be alright. Everything wasn't alright. He sinks into the hug, takes the comfort where it's offered because there's precious little. He doesn't know that soon, someday, he'll be doing the same. That this man will understand more than anyone else.
"I told him England acknowledged him." he murmurs, and gets only a deep hum in answer. "And I didn't even know his name."
Owari