I remember watching my brother leave on a big, brown horse.
Along with him, other boys were riding away.
Too many to count.
I remember my mother yelling out his name until we could see nothing more or hear the horses.
Until there was nothing to see,
Nothing besides the green mountains and dark blue sky.
I remember hearing my father say how proud he was of my brother.
How strong and bold one day he would be.
How courageous and how trilling and fascinating adventures he would have.
I remember crying and begging for him to return home.
I remember feeling jealous of the things he would see.
The places he would visit.
Of the heat of war he would feel.
Of the feeling of life that would run all over his body, mind and soul every time he killed, saved or protected another soul.
I'm not so sure that he deserved such jealousy.
The war has no heat other that the coldness of battle.
Taking another souls life for your own deserves no honour.
Such adventures deserve nothing but pity.
In my own life, I have seen things that no person should ever see.
It does not matter the age.
If it's a woman or a man.
How long was his life experience.
All those things do not matter.
Because when'd you see the craziness…
The coldness…
The mental torture…
The pain…
The hate…
The tears…
But most of all
The despair
Of war
Every time you see it
Bit by bit
You lose you're hope…
You're self love…
You're self respect…
You're beliefs…
You're honour
You're sanity.
End of Chapter
This is Ira point of view of war and her own life.