Life of a Soldier #3: The War Has Begun

“We are defending not only the honour and dignity of our country, but we are also fighting for our children and their children, and their children’s children. For justice, for our people, for China!” The steadfast voice of Song Zheyuan sounded, unwavering as an age-old rock against the overwhelming wave of Japanese soldiers.

Today is the 7th of July, 1937, and perhaps one of the goriest annihilation of the whole entire mankind.

A gash of radiant light broke through the cauldron-black sky. Dawn was approaching, and the horizon was dyed blood-red by the rising sun, not a cloud was in sight as both armies readied themselves for the battle looming over them like a raincloud. Following the first fade of the dawning lights, we clashed, screaming bloody murder as the banging of guns and the cry of wounded men rang over the raging Yongding River, fueling the ongoing battle with a new ferocity.

Our men fought gallantly and bravely, but it wasn’t enough. The Japanese were too strong, too strategic. They fight in sections, while we fight as one, bound by our mutual love and respect and the need to protect our country. Bullets ricocheted off the dull grey granite, demolishing pieces of the bridge and pieces of our hope was lost with it. Men around me, friend and foe, screamed and cried as they took their last shuddering breath before closing their eyes. You’d think after what was seemingly endless battles, I would have a stomach of iron and a heart of stone.

Mercury-red blood showered the ground, the septic smell of death hung over the battlefield. Blizzards after blizzards of bullets rained down on our troops, picking off men like pesky flies here and there. The Japanese troops took advantage of the upper hand and advanced, pushing us back against the currents of rivers. Enemies in front, humiliation behind. What would we choose?

We are authentic Chinese people, and we are not going down without a fight.

And just like that, the raging battle of the troops came to a sudden halt.

The battle was over.

And the battle is lost.

My eyes welled up with unshed tears as I surveyed the bloody bridge. The battlefield is covered in blood, gore, and amputated limbs. The gruesome sight was enough to make a well-trained doctor who has seen it all scream and hide. Vultures and crows gathered, landing on the bridge, watching carefully and making sure their prey is dead before swooping down, ripping an arm or a leg off or the nearest body and gnawing on the fresh and tender meat and bone.

Lone survivors staggered around, dazed and confused, eyes dilated and shattered into pieces like coloured glass. The collateral damage was deep to the marrows of our bones, beating me down and forcing me to my knees. The rifle clattered out of my hands as a tear fell to the smooth surface of the bridge, blossoming like a delicate flower of life, yielding against the cold hands of death and destruction. It’s a beautiful thing, the balance between life and death, yet a cruel action, how death takes so easily and so quickly until nothing but broken hearts and souls remain.

Hatred and anger burned in my eyes as I clenched my fists and stood up.

This war has begun, and we will rise like the blood-red dawn. And there is going to be hell to pay.

Author Notes: Sorry I didn't post more often. Even in quarantine, I am really busy with schoolwork and other issues. I'll try to post more often, all right! Thank you!

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