The Call to Adventure

The call has gone out. All who are able must come and fight. Messengers are being sent to the far corners of the land to gather all able-bodied soldiers to the training grounds. It is impossible to refuse the call. Even as the words reach across the abyss of time, I can feel them pulling at my soul and telling me my destiny lies upon the field of battle.

You, my son, you are too young to understand. Even your sister, with her fresh, young face and innocent eyes, can comprehend a little bit about the fear spreading in the world. I think she can sense our fears, mine and your mother’s. It is too much for her little heart to take. I understand when she wakes up in the night, crying out for fear of the monsters who destroy her sleep and threaten her peace. No soothing words or checking of the dark hiding places assuage away the terror coming for her in the night. I wonder who she will call out for in the night when I am no longer here to comfort her?

They are not calling for me, yet. There is time for us to be together, to be a family. The war is far away and does not touch our shores. As long as we stay here, quiet, and don’t interfere in other’s battles we will be safe. This war may be over long before they call for me. They are calling for the young, those without families, those without responsibility to come first. Like any war, they will take all who come to fight, but they don’t need me, yet. Maybe they will never need me.

When will this war be done? What damage will be inflected upon the world by the mechanisms of battle? How many young lives will be sacrificed upon the fields of glory before they call ‘mercy’ and beg for peace?

There was war in my grandfather’s time. There was a great battle and it was fought only a few days’ journey from here. My grandfather fought in the battle and he was left with scars upon his body and mind we could never understand. He took us there once and showed us the ground where his generation watered the crops with their life’s blood. I was expecting to see deep trenches lined with the bones of fallen soldiers and the dark stain of pain and suffering marking the ground where an entire generation lost their innocence, instead we found a field of grass and cows placidly chewing their cud.

I asked the farmer “where are the battle scars? Why are there no monuments giving homage to the unnumbered dead?” The farmer looked at me and said. “Why commemorate the battle field of a lost war?” My heart broke in two as I thought of the loss my grandfather suffered and realized the world would forget the pain war causes if they refuse to remember.

The world has forgotten the pain of war. Even now I can hear the hateful words spewing from the mouths of those who should know better. The names they call the enemy vibrate through the air, warning children to fear anyone and anything that is different.

“They are not like you. They will take what you have and destroy your way of life.” The words seep into the minds of the future generation, teaching them to hate. We are not born hating another. We need to learn hate and fear. I learned the hateful words as I sat at the feet of my grandfather and listened to the stories he told of battles fought so long ago only to be relived in his memory like a diseased fog taking over his mind.

I do not want to be my grandfather. I do not want to hate for hates sake. I want to teach you and your sister of nothing but love and peace, but how can I teach you a concept I barely understand myself.

I can hear the war drums beating. They are not beating in the streets or calling from the shore. They are vibrating in my chest and pulling at my gut. I want to answer their call and drive the enemy back into the hole they climbed out of before they tear apart the world.

Would you be able to forgive me if I went to battle when you needed a father to show you what it means to be a man? Maybe we have moved past the time when a boy needs a father. How many generations of fathers before us have been claimed by war and yet we still have an entire world full of boys who learned what it takes to be a man without their fathers to guide them.

I will not go away tonight. This will be our time together. Maybe I will be able to stay forever. They haven’t called for me and I will try to find a way to stay.

Come to my arms and I will tell you the stories of my father and my grandfather. They proved themselves in fields of battle so the future generations would not have to fear the evils of the world. But, now we are here again. The next generation being called to action. I will answer the call, if it comes and hope you will never hear the drums of war.