The Desserter and the Kitten (Part 1)

Duck Park had become a sort of sanctuary for Wilhelm.  As the war had localized itself in a battle in the nearby town of Bulls Creek, Wilhelm would walk as far as he could during his R & R.  He would walk until he no longer heard the unmistakable sounds of battle.  It was a calm place near an isolated water fountain.  As fighting raged on, he found sleep to be a distant fantasy, but on his one day of leave per week, he managed to allow sleep to take him near the isolated water fountain.

Years ago, he was a strong, proud soldier.  At the very moment he stopped to question why he was even fighting, his sense of purpose began to erode.  Bent and miserable looking, he let his hair grow out into a salt and peppery mess.  He had been walking back from Duck Park when he noticed a small black kitten had been following him, although his attention had been stolen away as he approached the southern gate to Bulls Creek.

"You always look ten times more cheerful when you return from leave," said Sir Neal.  "Where is it that you go?"

"If I told you that, I wouldn't be so cheerful when I returned," Wilhelm replied with a grin.  "It's the solitude for that one day a week that makes me cheerful."

"Looks like you brought a friend," said Neal, pointing to a stray cat.

"Yeah," puzzled, Wilhelm scratched his head looking at the cat.  "Weird."

Neal was the pride of the regiment.  Not as tall or broad shouldered as Wilhelm, he was able to glow with confidence which was seriously lacking in his long time friend.  Once upon a time, they both were glowing representatives in her majesties army in a distant land, in a distant war.  Neal shooed that cat away while Wilhelm approached the encampment. 

For weeks, the battle was a stalemate.  It felt to Wilhelm that he was destined to fight this battle until his death and in the end, how will he be remembered?  In the end, that's the most important question, right?  Will we be remembered as heroes or villains?  Or worse, thought Wilhelm, will we be remembered at all?

As he sat on his cot, he felt something rub against his leg.  It was that darn kitten.

"This is no place for a kitten," he said picking her up and stroking her head.  She purred and pushed her head back against his hand affectionately.  "Let's get you somewhere safe, ok?"

In the darkness, they stole off into the night.  He carried her through the forest to the east of Bulls Creek.  He walked her halfway back to his favorite place to relax and then put her down and walked away.  Within fifteen paces, he had forgotten her and began to focus on the upcoming battle the next morning.

When he returned to camp, no one had noticed he was missing.  He walked past a tent where Sir Neal was preparing strategy for tomorrow for some of the other commanders.  Wilhelm thought back to the days when he was a commander.  When did he change, he asked himself?  When did he become amongst the defeated?  Sir Neal would occasionally share tales of the "Great Wilhelm" single-handedly holding off an oncoming hoard.  Neal always seemed to conveniently leave out the part where Wilhelm also was wounded so severely in the onslaught that it was near fatal.  With a sardonic smile, he continued walking back to his tent for some much needed rest.