The Rain Continues

Alexander Harris wakes from the grave as a ghost. Flashback story.

The Rain Continues

The rain continues.
There is nothing we can do
Nothing to stop it.
There is a rain falling.
The rain is a flow of teardrops
From heaven crying for the fallen on the field.
This rain isn’t the best
Way to look at the world anymore,
And the teardrops flow through the air
And hit the ground.
A tremor rises through the earth
As the dead wake again.
And so this rain continues,
A rain we cannot stop.

A gentle rain is pattering down as I open my eyes. I feel as though I’ve been asleep for days or even weeks. Rain isn’t an uncommon occurrence. It’s just the temperature and environment that really shows how it affects people. I know it affects me, the performance that I can do. All the things I’ve done have depended on the weather and the rain has a particular affect that I can’t seem to grasp as to why it does what it does.
         
I look around and suddenly realize that there’s no one else on the field. I’m shocked to see that there is also an assortment of gravestones placed about the field. Randomly placed, and I finally glanced at the one behind me; it has a name on it. Alexander Harris. May 18th, 1918- February 7th, 1943. About ten yards ahead of me is a sign. “In memory of the dead killed here,” it reads. The printed date on the sign is 1973, thirty years after I’ve died. Apparently.
         
The rain continues.
~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~ 

         “Private Harris!” I hear my name called and I stand abruptly, and salute the Lieutenant General Hollis. He looks me up and down, returning the salute. “At ease solider,” he says sternly, and I relax slightly. I’m always tense around people of high authority, even if they tell me to be at ease.
         
“Sir,” I say waiting for further instructions. He motions with one finger to follow him. I follow at about a yard to the left and two feet behind. Not out of fear, not out of intimidation, but out of respect for the higher authority. The rain is pouring down, a rain that makes my heart feel heavy.  We walk though the camp and the Lieutenant General glances back at me and motions me forward with his hand.
         
I also know that he’s waiting patiently for me to open my mouth and ask the question that he’s obviously waiting for. “Private, you keep your mouth shut until we get out of earshot from all the others.”  So I kept my mouth shut and was told the news. The tears have started falling from the skies again.
         
The rain continues.
~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

         My eyes are lined with a sad, light rain. The sadness of the souls is poured out through the vent of rain. I sit with my boys showing them the layout of the camp we’re going to be infiltrating and taking over from the German soldiers. I can barely keep my eyes open as I get sick to my stomach thinking about those poor people kept in the camps with no food or water and having people dying around them all the time. The children must be more frightened than I can imagine, and are probably crying over their mothers and fathers.

I don’t even want to think about all of this as the rain pours down on the soldiers in my platoon. My eyes scan the soldiers as I ask if they understand the plan. I hear a chorus of “Yes sir” from the men and I motion them forward. I give them the hand signals of keep quiet and show each exactly where to go through motions of my hands. I close my eyes as we plunge forward to take the camp.

The rain continues.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~ 

I watch the soldiers as they fall to the ground. The rain is pouring hard. The anger of the soldiers is extreme; I have never seen anything like it.  The orders I received are from Lieutenant General Hollis, and he told me that we were fighting on the front line now. My boys were not excited to hear about this because it makes us seem like everything that we’ve done over the last four months hasn’t had a purpose. All the camps we captured and the number of Nazis we killed have been enormous. Perhaps that’s why they put us out on this field.

I never thought that I’d have to look my enemy quite in the eye when I killed him. I don’t want to think about all the things that I’ve done as of late that might make me want to give in and let the war take me away from here.  The rain hurts a little as the large drops hit the skin of the back of my neck as I look over our bunker to shoot at the enemy. My boys are spread all throughout about fifteen miles of bunker where they are doing the exact thing that I am.

My throat closes in horror as I realize just how many people I’ve killed on this field today. At least forty people have been slaughtered by me and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself after this war is over. Now, I have lost all hope that I’ll even see the end of this war. Tears silently roll down my face as all the things I’ve done cross my vision in a number of seconds.

The rain has gotten gentler. I turn my head to the sky as I listen intently for more gunshots. I’m one of the few left on this field. The blood-soaked ground has no meaning to me. The only thing that is remotely important to me are the lives that have been lost on the field today. Whether the death be an ally or an enemy, I don’t care. I will mourn for the lost no matter if they just tried to kill me less than three minutes ago. I cry my heart out and I feel the rain against my neck and hands again. It is mourning for the men as well.

The rain continues on.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~ 

The wash of the memories have so significance here now. There is no point to those memories now. The rain is the same as it was then. Before I realized what had happened, I must have drifted off and shot while I was asleep in a tent. I was buried here, and a gravestone now marks my resting place. The sky in mourning again, and I feel as if all the deaths are going to happen again. I close my eyes hoping to rest again.

My eyes open once more, and there are people appearing all over the field. They seem oblivious to everything that I’ve noted and there is another battle on this field. I hear the gun shots, and I can’t take it anymore. I look at the cannons, the guns, the people falling and dying again, and I reach into the pouch I have. I pull out a grenade, and throw it at the enemy. The grenade goes off and my confidence is starting to return. I can’t take it though because I don’t want to endure everything like this again.  I pull my gun to my head and pull the trigger. Perhaps I can rest again now doing this.

And as always, the rain continues to spill its tears. The rain continues it’s mourning and I know that it will always continue like this. There’s nothing that can stop it. It continues.