Cold

His feet were the only thing that he was able to see. And at times, not even that. Beyond that, everything was white. The ground was white, the horizon was white, the sky was white. But white was good. White told him that it was still daytime, which meant hope.

He had been walking for what seemed to be an eternity. But he had no other choice. If he stopped he would never walk again. It didn't really matter, it was not a conscious effort anymore. His whole body had ached at first. Specially his feet. For a couple of days moving felt like walking on needles. Every step was an agony. At least that was over now. His whole body was numb and he couldn't feel a thing.

It was a Sunday the day the officers came. “Men in uniform, nothing but trouble” people at the village used to say. They had a list. “The motherland is in danger, the motherland is calling upon her sons” they announced to the townsfolk gathered in front of the churchyard. Then, they proceeded to read the list.

Of course he was named. Every man of age was asked to come forth. They had no choice, they had to accept the honor of serving. They knew what had happened elsewhere. Those who refused where shot on grounds of treason and their villages put to the torch.

Ideals, country, honor. Just empty words for him. He knew the phrases, he knew the words, and he repeated them out loud when he was expected to. Like a dog trained to bark on command. But they were still empty words. At least for an simple man like him.

When questioned about his duty he would answer that he was defending his homeland from the monstrous enemy. It was the answer they wanted to hear, so it was the answer he gave. All that was irrelevant to him. He was fighting an enemy he had never seen, never heard of and who had never done any wrong to him. In all likeness it was just another peasant from another village of some other country repeating his words for ideals, country and honor.

It had been bad from the beginning. There were never enough provisions, although they were used to that. Forever battling cold and hunger. But when orders stopped coming, they knew something had gone wrong. Coming back he saw naught but burnt fields and ruin. Enough to make any man despair, but his thoughts weren't on that. Not this time. All that mattered was reaching home.

This wasn't even his coat. He had took it from some commander or another. A corpse now, he wouldn't mind. He had to be close now. If only he could see something, some known terrain. He knew these lands after all, but he also knew that it was a fool's hope to be exposed in the out, this time of year. "I am close now" he told himself as he walked on, he had to be.