a house divided
fiction
edward wpritchard
By then, that is now, I wasn't like a typical veteran soldier who liked to reminisce with the unit by mail or newspaper over the battles we had been in or scars and wounds psychological we had suffered.
In my memories I recalled a literal interpretation of events, vivid memories of the battles and the wars. For that conflict had been fought house to house and room to room. Our country back then was a house divided.
Daily I strained not to remember
Holidays are worse In the middle of the night I awake. I am back, then, again on the steps headed for the second floor. Reluctantly I peer into to the darkness clutching the m-1 rifle.
Dog faced soldiers never understood what it was about or why we fight.
Battle fatigue, post stress syndrome.
Then its morning here and now. Another day of little busyness. Everything is totally still, everything is eternally calm. The country is at peace.
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