Duty
"Go to sleep, little one."
Ertha looked up at the battlefield and the incoming soldiers.
"Daddy, when are you coming back?"
Ertha took out his gun.
"Ertha, I will come back very soon.
"Daddy, why do you have to leave?"
"Ertha, it's my job. But, better yet, it's my duty. It will be yours too, someday."
He climbed on top of the tank.
"But I don't want you to go."
"I have to. It's what I do best. One day, you'll be a soldier too, it's family tradition."
"Yeah, that's right! I wanna be just like you!"
Ertha bent down, balancing on his knees on the roof of the tank.
"No, Ertha. Be better than me. When I get back, I'm gonna tell you all my mistakes on the field, and you have to promise not to make the same ones later. Understand?"
"I understand, Daddy!"
He left a few days later.
He returned. Eventually.
"Daddy, why are you so dirty?"
"I'm dirty because we won, Ertha."
"You won? Yay!"
"Remember your promise? We have to work on that now."
Ertha grimaced as he looked down at his soiled boots. Knees, feet...
"...shoulders apart. Don't forget that, Ertha. One off foot, and you're down. That's how I fell off the tank!"
Ertha giggled.
He looked through the eyepiece of the gun. No hesitations necessary.
It was his tenth birthday.
"Daddy, what if I don't want to be a soldier?"
His father was appalled.
"What are you saying, boy?"
He only called Ertha 'boy' when he was angry. Very angry.
"I mean- I don't wanna hurt anyone."
"Then they will hurt you first. Protect yourself and your team first, Ertha."
"Okay, Daddy."
Sentimentals were weak. He could not afford to lose anymore.
They were playing paintball.
His sister and mother on one team, his father and himself on the other.
It was a fun game, with lots of shooting and laughter.
He could still remember when his father had shot his sister and she was rolling around in fake pain.
He had run to her, thinking she was really in pain.
"Oh, are you alright?"
Afterwards, his father had rushed over and slapped him.
Looking up at him in shock, pain and confusion, Ertha clutched his cheek.
"Ertha, boy! You cannot help the enemy, no matter what cost!"
"But Dad, Emlyn was-"
"I don't care whether she was in pain or not! When you go out in war, all you have to be aware of is yourself! Your team can take care of theirselves. No matter what you do, what team you're on, you cannot help the enemy, understand?"
"What if the enemy is nice an-"
"There are no nice enemies! All enemies are enemies! Understand?"
"Understand."
He swiveled the gun around, trying to find a possible target.
"Dad, look! It's an ant! It's injured! We've got to help it!"
"No, we don't."
His father then stomped on the ant.
"Ertha, anything that is not superior to you shouldn't be saved. Ants bite things. Ants hurt people. Ants should not be saved."
"What if this ant didn't bite anyone?"
"Then, it will, one day."
"But ants only bite when provoked!"
"Ants are ants, Er. Ants are like enemies. They don't deserve to be saved. It is our duty to make sure they will never be saved."
He locked his aim on one particular soldier.
"Ertha, you have to decide, which comes first?! Compassion or duty?"
"Compassion, Dad!"
"Ertha! How dare you! Duty always comes first!
He was fifteen at the time. Young, naive and innocent.
He was hesitant to become a soldier.
He didn't want to hurt anyone.
"Ertha! When will you learn? Enemies deserved to be punished!"
He tightened his grip on the gun.
"They deserved to be punched, kicked and beat to the pulp!"
He steadied himself.
"They deserve no mercy!"
He squeezed the trigger.
He fired.
He missed.
The enemy soldier then fled.
Letting out a sigh, he reloaded his gun. He hadn't shot anyone yet. He hadn't killed anyone yet. Father would be disappointed.
Suddenly, he saw his chance. An injured soldier. Crawling on the ground. Trying to get back to his base.
His perfect chance.
But... There was hesitation. He looked so vulnerable. He looked so easy to kill. He looked like...
Emlyn.
It was the start of the war, and Ertha watched from the shadows as his sister, his only friend, was taken away.
She struggled against their restraints, but alas, she was defeated.
He could still remember that look of pain on her face. That look of fear and terror.
He had been a coward not to fight back then.
He could not be a coward now.
He aimed.
No hesitations now, Ertha.
"Hi Emlyn!"
" Hey Ertha! Dad's on duty today, so I have some secret info to share with you!"
She plopped down on the chair next to him, her cheerful aura suddenly turning grim.
"The soldiers that were drafted weren't volunteers."
"What?"
"Yeah, I know. They were picked and taken against their own will. I know Dad really hates enemies and all, but I can't help but feel bad for them. Maybe they are just like us. Maybe they like war as much as we do. Maybe they're innocent."
Ertha just stared at his sister.
"Maybe Dad will one day see that violence isn't everything."
He couldn't do it.
He couldn't pull the trigger.
He was such a coward.
He lowered his gun, looking at the soldier, still crawling.
It was a miracle no one had shot him yet.
"Maybe they're just like us."
What would Dad have wanted him to do?
No.
That was wrong.
What would Emlyn have wanted him to do?
"Maybe Dad will one day see that violence isn't everything."
He kept on staring at the soldier.
"Ertha, you have to decide, which comes first?! Compassion or duty?"
Duty always comes first.
But...
What was his duty?
"Ertha, I want you to be better than me."
Slowly, he lowered his gun even more.
He placed it on the tank.
Okay Dad, I will be better than you.
Just in a different way.
Slowly, he made his way to the injured soldier.