MARCH OR DIE

MARCH OR DIE

“March or Die! March or Die!” Bob Roberts whispered fiercely into the ear of each man along the ragged line. They were stragglers who had met by chance whilst trying to find their way back across enemy lines to the relative safety of the prearranged meeting place. They had little time left before those already gathered there continued on their way under special orders.

Roberts wondered what motivated these exhausted, emaciated and pain ridden men, to continue forward through the jungle, despite infected wounds, monsoon and mud,

across rivers, through acres of bamboo which tore at their clothes and cut their bodies.

March or Die.

For Roberts it was hate. Hate for those who had murdered his innocent family in Singapore, hate for the sniper who had killed the friend who walked ahead of him, hacking a way through the jungle. Hate of the very jungle itself. Hate of the invisible enemy who may, at any time, mow them down where they stood.

March or Die.

For Williams it was pride. Pride he knew his father would feel when he returned. Pride his mother would show as soon as she spotted him getting off the train in London. Pride he would have for himself for having survived so much for so long.

March or Die.

For Miller it was fear. Fear of the dark, fear of the creatures he could only hear screaming in the jungle, fear of death, fear of being left behind once again. Fear of being thought a coward.

March or Die.

For young Lasiter it was love. He visualised the outstretched arms of the girl who waited for him. He visualised her lovely face, her deep, dark eyes, her lips that parted a little when he kissed her. He promised that should he survive this hell he would ask her to marry him.

March or Die.

For Bates it was ambition. He was never meant to be a soldier. His future was to take over his father’s business and make it successful. He would survive, whatever it took, just to get back and show them and when he had turned his father’s business around he would begin another and another and become rich and powerful.

March or Die.

For Jones it was determination. Nothing was going to stop him surviving. He would go through whatever hell was thrown at him. He was strong and his sense of self-preservation was powerful. He would focus on every step that took him further along the path to the meeting place. He would not weaken.

March or Die.

Last in the line was Ellis. For him there was little motivation. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to rest. He wanted just to lie down and let sleep wash away the pain of his rotting feet, his suppurating wounds, his mind which he felt was on the edge of madness.

Roberts spotted him falling back. “March or Die” he whispered fiercely, giving Ellis a rough shove forward, but Ellis just stopped.

“Leave me” he said weakly. “I’ll take my chances”

“If you stop now you will be found and the enemy will surely kill you, but worse than that, they will know the path we are taking and it will not be long before they catch and kill all of us. Pull yourself together, man. For God’s sake is there nothing you want to live for?”

Despite his weakness of mind and body, Ellis began to think. Little by little a picture came into his mind of the small chapel in the village where he lived. There he had found peace, there he had found God, there he had been happy. Yes, for God’s sake and with His help he would carry on and should he survive, he promised, he would dedicate his life to Him. He would March or Die.

Ellis found a new strength in the first of many steps which would take him closer to the meeting place.

March or Die.

The line, which had stopped at Robert’s command, picked up their packs and began to march forward once more.

Suddenly there was an almighty explosion. Bodies were flung into the air and pieces rained down into the crater. Then silence. Then the screams and calls of the jungle crowded over the moment and all appeared back to normal among the trees.

In the crater a body stirred. “March or Die” it whispered fiercely.