Fighting it was all I ever seemed to do, but my hostility to who I truly was would evaporate in the instant that I saw his smile; the smile that only I would ever receive from his lips. He was stronger than me; more confident to be who he was despite the constant disgust that came his way. I was weaker, unable to tell people who I was –because, if they didn’t agree, then was it truly who I was?
There is not a more difficult task to perform than leaving the one person you love with all your being, the one who can make you feel happiness with every one of your senses, your soul mate. No war can compare to the agony a single heart can feel when it leaves the person it beats for, the one it fights for; but war called. I was called, and I felt my heart stop beating, stop fighting.
I had to leave him at our oak tree, and as our tears fell I saw the ivy start to break. We were falling apart. Nature seemed to fall apart at the mere sound of two lovers being forced away from one
another by something as grotesque as war. Soldiers had to leave within an hour of their call and so there was no time to show him how much I cared or tell him how much his love would push me to fight and carry on living no matter how close to death I came. We kissed one last time and the last words either of us heard together was the sweet vow my lips whispered, “Till death us do part”.
My name was called and my heart agonized over the danger a foot soldier faces over those in other branches. Was this fate informing me that I was unable ever to return to the one man I would ever love? It never felt real; it never felt as though this would be my life, it never felt like I deserved this dreadful and unknowing fate.
I ached and ached to speak to my love. He was the one concrete part of my life and I had been forced to leave his side, to leave his protection and I was uncertain of whether or not he would wait for me. I was unsure of how long this horrific tale called war would last; I prayed that it would end quickly and if death found me then that would be quick too. We had no way of communicating and this merely made our state of mind grow worse and more nervous. Did any of us have someone to go back to? Or had the war taken not only our pure minds but our families too?
Witnessing death is testing and surreal. You can see and hear and smell everything so much clearer when someone you know and have grown to care for is lying on the ground in torment as they wait for God to come and free them.
We could not feel hope any longer; it felt as though this war would never end and that death and tears and screams would be our last memories. I came to realise that my love was no longer my first thought… had I been sent to this hell on earth due to the act which others saw as so wrong? Was this my punishment for going against the will of both the Church and society? I started to hate his existence, to wish that we had never met for then I would have had nothing to of been
punished for but also, no one to miss so terribly.
My humanity was escaping me as shouting and murder became my daily exercise, my life. There
was nothing here to suggest life could endure, but we did. I lost sight of what I was fighting for because my hate had grown so severe that I no longer remembered my beliefs, feelings or dreams.
But one day it all ended. The sun shone down on us all and awakened us from the trance-like state we seemed to have existed in. I remembered I could feel and talk calmly and smile and be happy! The sun made us all realise that we didn’t have to fight anymore, that the world could work things out without blood or tears or damage because we all had feelings and beating hearts and working minds which, no matter if lost, will always return to us. Our war was over.
The last thing I saw before leaving my camp was a swallow flying over us. Nature had returned,
showing me that it was safe and clean enough for life to survive once again. I felt my heart beat without effort or strain. I was going home.
The feeling of going home and holding him again were the most real and pure thoughts I had had in my whole war time experience. It was surreal to be leaving and as every hour passed, though slowly due to my anticipation, my realisation of how pure our love was overwhelmed me. I cried tears but tears of joy for I knew that he would be there waiting for me, my eternal love would have been waiting for my homecoming.
He was there, he had waited all of this time for me to return and take back his hand in mine. We sat at our oak tree but didn’t speak for there were no words either of us needed now we were
together. It was surreal to touch him and hear him breathing and see into his eyes; to see the agony I know he felt just as much as I did. He was
mine and forever will be for not even something like war may tear our hearts in
two. We were one.