Between The Birches

I I've come here to get a boulder off my chest, Lord Almighty. I have something that has been bothering for quite some time now, and this is my way of coming to terms with it. This is my way of coming to terms with the devil that resides within me. I feel as if I have a demon sitting on my back. I feel like it is trying to press me to the ground and I can't bear with this feeling anymore, father, please forgive me for the wrongs that I have done.

I served in the military back in the nineties and unfortunately, my term started just six months before the First Chechen War broke out. Out of training, I found myself on a plane to Grozny, the capital of Chechnya about to face a mob of pissed off former Soviet soldiers who called the city their home. Needless to say, being an infantryman during the Battle of Grozny was hell, we've barely clawed our way to victory. I personally lost many friends, mostly because my platoon found itself in the territory of a particularly pesky sniper that kept on picking out our guys left and right for a while. The skillfulness of people like this sniper earned the Chechen guerrilla fighters the nickname "Specters" because they just came, launched a surprise attack and were gone by the time we've managed to figure out what was going on. By the time we've managed to figure him out all the remaining guys in my platoon were so pissed at him, the matter was personal to us at this point. Back then, the rage was fueling me; it was helping me get through the harsh days and the painful realities. I knew that I had to do what I had to do to survive. All of this anger from the war it turned me into a monster. Nowadays, even the slightest hint of ire sends shockwaves of soul gripping terror, I have become so consumed in the past with an anger that now I am afraid of myself. I am truly afraid to lose control again and do what I did back then to my loved ones. Just the other night I was having dreams about the war again. I woke up to my wife screaming at me to stop hitting her. I was beating my wife in my dreams, father! I hate myself, I hate myself father!

I digress now, please forgive my trembling voice… All of this is just too hard. Once we had the sniper in our sights, we broke all protocol. Instead of gunning him down like we should have done, I and some other guys made it our mission to get our hands on the guy and make him suffer as much as possible.

Thus, one night we stormed his home, it was a typical Soviet multistory apartment complex. Once inside the building, we made as much ruckus as possible, shooting anyone in sight pretty much until we got to the sniper's apartment on the top floor. The whole apartment appeared to be redesigned as some sort of military base. I never got to ask, nor did I care at the time but I guess he was either a warlord or someone close to one in the region. Anyway, I digress. After breaking through the front door guns blazing and causing some old man in the apartment to clutch at his chest and fall dead on us we proceeded to beat the living snot out of the people present in the apartment before taking the man himself hostage.

Imagine seeing your kids get the absolute snot beaten out of them by a group of six soldiers in peak physical condition until they are almost dead for no reason; we did that. Imagine yourself seeing your wife get killed for no reason; we did that. Now that I have a wife and kids, I would kill for them, I swear even if it takes me to hell I would do anything to ensure their safety. The specter did too. We killed his wife in what I called self-defense after she swung a kitchen knife at David. I believed that Kostya shot her in an attempt to defend our friend from a terrorist. She wasn't one, however; she was just a civilian caught in something that shouldn’t have even happened. All of this was our fault, my fault, all of this was so stupid and now I'm paying for it with a spawn of Mephistopheles on my back. After seeing the brain matter of his wife get smeared all over the wall the specter snapped understandably, he was swinging at us like a man possessed. Hell, he even managed to cut me across the face, just nearly missing my neck. No matter how many times we hit him he just kept coming back for more. At first, we planned to knock him out and then take him out in the vehicle but his seemingly superhuman outburst we resorted to shooting both of his legs to subdue him. Even after getting shot in both legs he wouldn't shut up, so Vitalik put him to sleep, and we dragged his unconscious body to his car.

I need a moment.

We used his car to leave the city proper and drive into a forested area to carry on with our plan for the specter. Getting passed the separatist outposts was rather easy, considering the fact that among us was Artur, a Dagestani who looked just like the locals and could speak Chechen. Once we found a secluded area far enough from human eyes, we unloaded the Chechen and tied his torso to a Birch tree with one rope and his legs to the car's hitch with another.

After looking around to make sure that we were truly alone, I took a piss on the Chechen to wake him up. He squirmed around in my piss while cursing at me in his tongue while I took care of my business. Once fully aware of his situation, the Chechen began screaming at us and struggling against his bonds. Artur told him in Chechen that he shouldn't resist and the Specter retorted by calling him a traitor, I suppose as I remember Artur telling him he is Dagestani.

I crouched next to the Chechen and told him I know he understands Russian, then I asked him if he knows who Prince Igor was. In response to my question, he spat in my face. The boys wanted to beat the shit out of him for that but I stopped them, instead; I opted to tell him about Prince Igor's demise.

I looked the Chechen in the eyes and told him that every year during his reign Igor of Kiev made his way to the capital of the Drevlians; Iskorosten, to collect tribute. I told him this process went fine until one year after already collecting his annual tribute Igor had a change of heart and decided to try to drain some more money out of the Drevlians. He had sent most of his force back home and left for the tribe's capital with a small force of few dozen men. The locals found out about this and relayed the message to their prince, Mal, a man of short stature and high ambition. In response, Mal raised an army and confronted Igor's envoy. He slaughtered Igor's men and captured the prince.

The Chechen just cursed at me up to this point probably not even paying attention to what I was saying until I said, "The Drevlians took Igor to a sacred grove of theirs where blood adorned the trees. It was the blood of men whom they sacrificed to their gods."

The Chechen's eyes turned to me, slightly widened, and I told him, "Legends say Igor had those same eyes you have right now when he saw the two bent Birch trees in front of him as he was being led to his final resting place."

He looked to his left to see a Birch tree standing in front of him and he shot a glance back to me, his eyes were a clear indicator of what was on his mind, he was scared. The Chechen sniper who took, so many lives was afraid of dying. That’s when Sasha, who was seated in the driver's seat pressed on the gas pedal a little, causing the robes to tighten around the Specter's body. The realization that he could be pulled apart then and there sent the man into a panic. He started begging for me to shoot him in a heavily accented Russian.

In response to his begging, I shot back at my fellow soldiers and asked, "Do you guys know what the Drevlians shouted at Igor when he was begging for his life after they tied him between the two bent Birch trees in a Kievan accent?"

The boys behind me began screaming out like wild animals, "Foreigner! Foreigner! Foreigner!"

I grabbed the man by the back of his neck and leaned against him telling him, "They called him a foreigner. They berated him for not being a native of their lands and just before releasing the two Birches to tear Igor's body apart, Prince Mal told him about how he is going to fuck the shit out of his wife and take over his realm."

I can't, father, I can't go on like this… Please help me… These memories they are too painful, father…

I let go of the man and looked at the car behind me, Sasha was smiling like a madman pressing ever so slightly on the gas pedal. I found that moment to be funny and so I laughed, telling the Chechen, "After they let the Birches tear Igor in half, Mal had his men collect whatever remains of the Kievan's body and send it to his wife, Olga; to teach her who was in charge of these lands. Maybe we should send your mother your remains just to show her who is in charge here, huh Specter?"

The man's pleadings had gotten louder and sloppier, I could hear him sob. The quivering in his voice sounded amusing to me, back then. I turned to face him again and asked quietly, "Hey guys, should we send his guts to his mother?"

The boys behind me erupted in cheers, and I simply stared at the man whose life lay in my mercy. Not batting an eye, I roared, "Sanya, tear him in half!"

The sounds of a car engine running at full force filled my ears as all I could see was the slow exposure of the Chechen's viscera. I could see him scream the whole time as his clothes and skin slowly expanded to the breaking point. A second after I saw blood, I could see a mountain of red and moist gut matter peeping through the gapes in his torso. A second later, his lower half was torn out of place as Sasha flew a few meters forward with the car. The ground between the Chechen who somehow did not die immediately after losing half of his body and the car were covered in blood, guts and some other internal organs; like his liver that just fell out of him.

I looked at the somehow still barely breathing Chechen and mockingly said in a forced Caucasian accent, "Now you are a real specter."

The boys laughed at my remark, and we just left the scene.

We got back to our posts just before dawn. No one came to question us about disappearing for a few hours during the night, no one seemed to be bothered even though it was pretty evident that even the officers knew.

I wasn't really bothered by any of this until recently when I heard about how my youngest son saying he wants to be a soldier to kill all the bad guys like his father. That got me thinking were we really the good guys in this conflict and after some soul searching I've come to the conclusion that regardless of who was what I was certainly a monster at a few points back there.

I was so consumed by hatred towards this man that I went as far as to repeat the crimes of heathens against you, father. We were all so consumed with hatred over a war that was not our own, we were just pawns in a war caused by greedy men who know not of your might father, I did not know of it to back then, but now, now feeling all this pain; I know who the true Lord is, father.

I regret everything I did back then, I regret killing that man the way I did. I regret ever enjoying the feeling of another's blood on my hands, you know I did! You know everything, father!

To be honest, right now that my kids are so proud of my military background this notion is killing me. I don't want any of my kids to end up a cold-blooded killer like me. Looking out of the window at my innocent son who seems to be having so much fun on his swing between the two Birches, I'd hate to see his hands get soiled with the blood of another.

Dear Lord, please spare the kids from my fate.

Please, Lord… Don't set my children's teeth on edge for their father's eating of sour grapes.