Consehannon Border, 1948
The resounding thunder echoed through the quiet refuge that housed the Consehannon soldiers assigned to guard the borders.
“Thankfully, we’re being discharged from the borders today,” Major Muller remarked as he sipped his coffee. “It’s not ideal to guard the border in stormy weather.”
A young and relatively new soldier, sharing the sentiments of his comrades, chimed in, “I agree. The woods seem dangerous to trek, especially at night. I’m so looking forward to getting out of this miserable place.”
“Stop acting all mature, youngster. We all know you want to get home because you miss your mom so much, mama’s boy,” Major Klein teased, causing the young soldier to blush in embarrassment as his comrades laughed at him.
Their laughter came to an abrupt halt when their superior, Senior Lieutenant Henry Isenberg, entered the safe house. They all stood up and saluted him.
Henry let out a disappointed sigh at the sight of his troop relaxing and laughing while still on duty. How could they be so careless when defectors had become a current problem? Why wouldn’t they take their responsibility a little more seriously?
“What are you all doing here?” Henry asked them sternly. “Your shift hasn’t ended. What if a defector uses this opportunity when no one is guarding the border fence?”
“Lieutenant Isenberg, it’s our discharge today—”
“Yes, but you are to be dismissed this afternoon,” Henry argued with Major Klein. “It’s still 10 in the morning, so I expect you’d still be carrying out your duties until the last second.”
His team’s faces fell flat at their inability to sway him. He was always so strict when it came to rules and duties. That’s how he was raised, after all—duty should always come first.
His comrades walked out of the shelter to carry out the remaining time of their journey. However, Major Muller stopped in his tracks and looked back at Henry.
“Wait, you said that we’re getting dismissed in the afternoon,” he reiterated Henry’s statement. “We, does that mean it does not involve you, Lieutenant?”
“No, I’m staying here. To patrol until night.”
They all looked at Henry with disbelief, then at each other. Was he really seriously staying at the border in this weather?
“Are you sure, Lieutenant?” the young soldier asked Henry with concern. “The news said that the storm would be strong and last for a few days. What if you get lost in the woods and stranded somewhere?”
“That’s not going to happen,” he replied confidently. “I’ve been trained to endure harsh weather conditions. Besides, defectors could take advantage of the storm to escape from our country to Colsary. I’d rather not waste any chance to prevent any of them from getting out.”
“It’s almost been a month since we got assigned here,” Major Klein said, turning to Henry. “Don’t you want to go home for a while? Your family must’ve missed you.”
Henry thought to himself, I have no family. Technically, he did have a house and a father. But he did not consider that house his home, nor his father his family. Because, at the end of the day, he wasn’t his real father. No one was aware of that.
And Henry knew that his Father, a well-respected Corporal, would prefer him to continue his duty on the borders rather than for him to go home just to visit.
“Not until I finish my duty,” he responded. “I vowed to protect and serve my country from the enemy and intend to fulfill that promise.”
The troop finally relented, acknowledging their superior’s unwavering dedication to his duty as a soldier. They all proceeded to their guarding duty until it was time for their discharge.
As Henry watched their military vehicle disappear from view, he couldn’t help but notice the anticipatory expressions on their faces. The talk of going home dominated their conversations during the remaining hours of their patrol. Particularly, the young newbie soldier couldn’t stop expressing his excitement about reuniting with his mom, while Major Muller enthusiastically shared plans to see his beloved wife again.
For Henry, family was a concept he had abandoned long ago, deeming it a weakness. His adoptive father had impressed upon him that family could hinder a soldier, plant fear in a soldier’s heart. Thus, he was taught never to consider his father as family. Their relationship maintained a distance, and Henry was never allowed to address him as Father but rather as Sir.
As a result, Henry distanced himself from everyone. Getting attached, loving, and caring for someone, he believed, was dangerous—it would only lead to vulnerability and pain. Henry sought strength to make the Colsarians pay for everything they took away from him and his country.
Henry’s mind continued to wander along these thoughts as he patrolled the borders at night.
He looked up at the night sky, its starless and moonless expanse signaling an impending storm. Just as he was about to return to the shelter for a raincoat and a battery for his dimming flashlight, the rain began to pour heavily, and the wind intensified, making it nearly impossible for Henry to navigate to the shelter.
Taking refuge under a tree, he observed a figure sprinting towards the border fence.
Without a second thought, Henry followed the fleeing figure, preparing his gun and tailing the man closely.
Someone had indeed seized the storm as an opportunity to escape to the other side. But what was so appealing about the enemy country? Though wealthier than Consehannon, the Colsarians were deemed monsters, committing horrible acts against those they despised. Their selfish interests took precedence, caring little for others as long as their desires were fulfilled. Could these defectors truly want to live among such people? Henry found it hard to believe.
“Bang!”
He fired his gun behind him as he sensed a stealthy presence approaching from the rear. The shot found its mark, hitting a man who appeared to be fleeing as well. Despite the leg wound, the injured man managed to continue running toward the fence. It became evident that these two were aiding each other and were armed with guns.
Henry doggedly pursued them through the storm, fog, wind, and relentless rainfall. The challenging weather conditions did little to deter him; he was resolute in stopping them from their perilous plan. Henry understood that the authorities in Colsary would likely execute them upon crossing the borders or manipulate them into turning against Consehannon.
“Bang!” Henry fired through the storm again, uncertain if the shot had hit its target.
Darkness enveloped the forest as his flashlight finally gave up, rendering him unable to see. The storm made it increasingly difficult to hear the defectors’ footsteps. Undeterred, Henry ran continuously in one direction, hoping to find refuge from the storm.
He sensed the terrain sloping upwards, prompting him to wonder if there was a hill in this part of the border. The unfamiliarity of patrolling an incline raised doubts, but these uncertainties faded when he heard movements nearby. Following the sounds, he spotted the familiar figures of the men still making their escape. Henry persevered, following their direction and ascending the hill despite mounting exhaustion.
His military attire was drenched, but he paid little attention. His sole focus was on capturing the defectors, who were making the grave mistake of entering enemy territory.
However, a misstep on an unnoticed rock caused Henry to lose his footing, and he tumbled off the cliff. The descent was swift, and his head collided with a rock as he rolled downward.
Henry attempted to stand, feeling a sharp pang of pain in his head. As he touched the wound, his hand came away stained with blood. Unfazed, he pressed on, walking with a pronounced limp in the direction of the footsteps imprinted in the muddy ground.
Squinting through the storm, he realized he was in an unfamiliar setting. Nevertheless, he continued walking, distancing himself from the hill where he had fallen. Eventually, a shed emerged in his field of view.
Without hesitation, Henry entered the shed, hoping to find a first aid kit. To his disappointment, none was to be found, and the shed differed significantly from those he was accustomed to near the base. Searching for a battery, he came up empty-handed. However, he did find bullets. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to reload his gun, he moved to open the box.
His eyes widened as he beheld a sight that filled him with a visceral hatred—a familiar flag of a country he despised.
The Colsary flag.