On the Field of Battle

A variety of short tales from the myriad battlefields past, present, future, factual or fanciful. Mankind doing what it seems to do so often, and oh, so well.


______________________________________________Recovered

We stood in silence as Gregor walked toward Us. He was carrying Jan, his kid brother, I knew that he would not say anything to us, but god help the hapless bastard that did this to his brother. Gregor's fury won't stop with simple death...


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Double Exposure
Derry cautiously approached the doorway, knowing that there was someone inside.
"Come on out." he said "I won't hurt you."
He saw a figure in the darkness moving toward him with his hands up.
"Come on out where I can see you." he ordered. The dark figure stopped short of the light. One of the hands moved quickly and Derry felt the sudden impact in his chest.
Stumbling back into the daylight he fell to the ground hitting hard on his back."What? ... Unhhh..." He saw the blade fully half way through his body in his chest. The pain mocked him as he found he could not even hold his head up without utter agony. His attacker smiled down at him and said nothing. He knew that he was already as good as dead, and returned to the darkness of the doorway. Derry lay his head down for the last time. The searing pain was thankfully fading away, along with everything else.

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The time for extraction was near,the boat was going to be at the extraction point in just a few minutes. As he hurried toward shore, he passed the wreckage of his helicopter again. It lay on it's side in the thick branches, almost invisible from the ground, let alone from above. The thick trees hid everything from view... Including the native warriors that had killed the other three members of his crew. One by one they were hunted down and killed, leaving the others in escalating fear. It wasn't until a few minutes ago that he actually saw one of them. He was trying to get the radio working to tell his rescuers to please hurry, and bring weapons, but to no avail. The batteries were dead. He just barely heard the warrior before he turned and the savage was right on top of him. He stabbed him several times in the gut before the warrior fell. Now Wes was left with just minutes to get to the shoreline and hopefully, be there when the rescuers arrived.

What was that? . . . A ships horn! They were signaling to him! He broke into a run in the direction of the signal. He was sure that he could hear someone running through the thick brush behind him. Not looking back, he pressed on even harder. This was his only chance!

There - The blue of the ocean was now visible through the trees ahead. Got to hurry. . .

As he broke through the last of the brush at the beach edge, he could see the ship, sitting in the water several hundred yards out and a small boat about halfway to shore.
A sudden burning pain erupted within his gut as he spotted the painted warriors standing between him and the water's edge. Grabbing at the arrow in his gut he gasped with pain and dropped to his knees.
"Noooo!" he cried out. "Please! Nooooo! Unhhhhh!"
The second arrow struck his chest and Wes knew that he too was about to die. Already pierced through the heart, the next five arrows rapidly struck an unfeeling target as his limp form fell back in the sand in silence.

The warriors quickly ran into the brushline and carried their quarry with them, leaving only a blood smeared knife in the sand as any evidence that anything might have happened here.


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"You stick with me. We're in the best place we can be here, Up on this roof we can pick off any of them before they even know that we're here." Dagon said. He had chosen me as his and I really felt good about it. One of the best archers here, he had taught me carefully and lovingly, everything he knew about archery. I was honored to be his disciple and lover. The enemy was within the city but we were stationed up here to keep watch and defend our location.

All seemed clear as Dagon retold his favorite battle tales. I didn't mind, in fact I liked listening to them again, it helped keep the long boring hours from putting us to sleep. These long night watches were tedious. Nothing ever happened and we had to stay on duty until relieved.

"We walked down the hill after the battle and counted over nine hundred bodies that were struck down with our arrows!" he boasted, (last time it was six hundred bodies) "We proved that a good squad of archers were - agggkkkkhh!"

"Huh?" I said. I felt something warm splatter on my arm and face. I had been watching over the ledge and I turned to see what was wrong.
Dagon was struggling to get a breath. An arrow had pierced him through the throat and the tip was sticking out of his neck, dripping blood. He looked so helpless, even afraid, not quite understanding what was happening to him. Before I could react, another arrow slammed into his back between his shoulder blades and he toppled over dead at my feet.

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Gaius, Paulus and Flavius have always been together. Called sons of blood by their fellowsoldiers, they had a reputation for standing firm and fighting like they cannot die. Fearlessly they had stood together and held the line in battle many times now. They had won the favor of the ladies in the Coleseum defeating the fiercest of foes that the gamesmen had thrown at them. At the same time they were still very young, and with that youth comes speed and agility. Too often the bigger, stronger opponent had misjudged them to their fault and it had led to their demise, as they skillfully dodged and darted about and pounced in for the kill.

Today, however, the battle was different. The Sythian tribesmen were incredibly fierce fighters and most of the Roman soldiers wondered why they were stuck here defending Moesia Minor but it must be important because Emperor Decius and his son Herennius Etruscus were both here and they had to defend the emperors at all cost. The honor of guarding them fell to the Sons of blood.

Paulus was first to fall. A Sythian arrow to his throat as the invaders stormed up the steps. No time to mourn now. Paulus' grabbed the arrow shaft and yanked it from his throat just as a sythian spear plunged into his belly. He would have died anyway but Flavious was enraged by the brutality of his friend's death. Flavius drove his spear completely through the Sythian dog's chest and the manbeast's blood gushed out front and back running down the steps of the building and he was dead before he fell.

Gaius was next. Running to put himself between a Sythian sword and Herennius, his emperor, the blade opened Gaius like a butchered lamb and he fell, writhing in his own entrails. That same blade then pierced the heart of the Emperor's son. Flavious' spear then took the life of the assassin, going in through his back between his shoulder blades and splitting his chest right in front of Decius as he rushed to his fallen son.

Now an arrow stabbed into Flavious' thigh causing him to fall to his knees. Three more arrows then took the life of the Emperor right before Flavious' horrified eyes. No Roman emperor had ever fallen in battle before!

"Nooooo!!" he screamed struggling to get to his feet again. "I've failed you!"

Turning toward the noise of Flavious' agonized cry, the huge Sythian hefted his spear and threw it deep into Flavious' chest.

As the world dimmed and the sound of battle faded, Flavious saw his emperor fall atop his dead son as the exuberant Sythians repeatedly plunged swords and spears into their bodies in a blood lust celebration of their victory.

-----------------{The Battle of Abritus (modern Razgrad, Bulgaria), also known as the Battle of Forum Terebronii, occurred in the Roman province of Moesia Inferior probably in June, 251, between the Roman Empire and a federation of "Scythian" tribesmen under the Goth King Cniva. The Romans were soundly defeated, and Roman Emperors were both killed during battle. They became the first Roman emperors killed in a battle with a foreign enemy. }

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If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when everything in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming eventually to hopeless misery.  He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does.  In place of this we have death.  ~Charles Sanders Peirce

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On the field of Battle - Part 1
On the field of Battle - Part 2
On the field of Battle - Part 3
On the Field of Battle - Part 4