Chapter 8
The King and I
In war, truth is the first casualty. ~Aeschylus
May 25th, 1944, 2141 hours (09:41 p.m)
Charles had been walking for an hour and a half now, hoping that the night breeze would clear his mind full of troubles. He looked west of him and spotted the water hole and started to walk over to it. When he reached the pool of water, he sat down in the grass and laid down on his back, staring up at the stars. "You should be in your den, what are you doing out here?" said a voice behind Charles. Shelton sat up and turned his body around to see who it was. Before him stood Simba, grinning. "I was...uhhhh...taking a walk, your highness." he said. Simba chuckled and stared off into the stars. Charles followed the kings example and looked up at them too. "Have you ever wondered what is up there?" asked Simba, continuing to look up. Charles was a bit confused by what Simba meant. "Well, there are many human ideas, like religion and stuff." answered the Private. Simba looked at Charles. "Religion?" he asked. "Religion is an idea of belief, like Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, things like that. For example, Christians believe that God is up there in Heaven." Charles said and looked at Simba. The king nodded his head and looked back up. "My father told me something like that. He said that the great kings of the past watch over us from up there." Puzzled by the statement, he eyed the king and back up at the dark sky. "Personally, I don't believe in religion." he said. He closed his eyes. Since signing up for the military, he lost his beliefs thinking that it would not help him at all. He relied on his Thompson and his squad to stay alive. Simba looked over at the soldier. "You know what I have noticed about you?" Charles opened his eyes and looked at the lion, "I have never seen you smile, not even a little bit." Simba finished. Charles did not answer. It was true that he hasn't smiled for a long time, ever since his father never came home. That was three years ago. He decided to answer, "I haven't had a reason to."
May 25th, 1944, 2334 hours (11:34 p.m)
It has been two hours since the two started talking and then started to walk back to Pride Rock. Charles was starting to enjoy talking to the king, until Simba got more into the subject of his personal life, which is something he never likes to talk about, almost like a man running from his past. They reached the entrance to Simba den before they stopped. "Hey Private?" he said. Charles stood at attention like he did for his CO's. "Sir?" Simba smiled at him and gave a small chuckle. "I just wanted to ask you if you and your men wish to join me and my hunting party tomorrow, show us how humans hunt." Charles got a flashback to when he was fourteen with his father going on their first Father/Son hunting trip. He remembered the first kill he had, a young male deer. After seeing what he did to an innocent animal, he never wanted to hunt again. Is war really different?, he thought. He finally said, "Yes sir, that would be good for me and the men, sir." Simba nodded and walked into the den and looked back at the human. "We go at dawn, so get some sleep." he quietly said, trying not to wake any of the other lionesses. Charles saluted Simba and walked out of sight. Charles started to walk around to the back of Pride Rock to where his den was, until he heard a rustle in the bushes. In alert, he reached for his weapon, but it wasn't with him. He remembered that he left it in the den, along with his knife. He looked to the direction of the noise. "Hello!?" he asked, standing his ground. A figure started to come out of the bush. Charles was shocked but ready to fight. The figure came into view, it was a blood covered hyena, limping up to him until she collapsed onto the ground in front of him. He kneeled down next to her, examining her wounds. She was dead almost as if before she fell down. He noticed that she was peppered by bullet wounds. He moved his fingers around one of the holes and pulled a bullet out. His hands covered in blood, he looked at the bullet. This isn't a hunting rifle. This was from an MP40...he thought in amazement. The hyena's were helping the German that he killed, so why would the Germans kill their own militia? He pondered the question until he made it to his den. Everyone was still awake, doing the same things they were doing before he left, O'Brian was still reading, Jackson, Peterson, and Vickers were still playing cards and smoking. "Guys, I need to tell you all something."
