February 10th Aftermath

Write about Peace

“Peace, a time when there is no war, when war has ended. Its tranquil and free from disturbance.” The man sat by a fountain, a few gathered around to listen, but most just passing him by without even a passing glance. To be fair it was hard to actually tell if the man was even talking to the crowd or just one of those who murmured to himself out in public. The attention he was receiving though leaned most that didn’t know what was going on to at least heed the words of the man for another minute or two. 

“They tell us we are blessed to be at a time of peace, finally free from the shadow of war that loomed overhead. That those who were lost in search of this tranquility would want us to move on, to survive, to be better.” There was the hint of anger in his voice but he was keeping it just below the surface. “We celebrated the day the war ended, with white flowers, releasing of doves, air shows, and gun salutes. But did you look at the eyes of those who signed that treaty?” 

There was a pause as though letting everyone remember, but how could they it had been a year ago, exactly one year ago when the treaties had been signed. It was the anniversary of the end of The Great War. “It wasn’t a peace treaty, it was a surrender. Those men were willing to sign anything, make any consolations for what we were doing to stop” The man had risen to his feet. 

“History is written by the victors. And not yet a year later we have omitted from history what we did to earn this peace. We left fields of white flowers stained red with blood, and black with ash. The forest and homes of doves burned and bombed. The planes that flew the airshow over the capital were the very ones that not days before had leveled the capital district of the enemy, and those gun salutes were from the same armories where firing squads took arms to execute traitors and deserters.” The man hadn’t raised his voice but he had spoken clearly and as more and more people had fallen silent his voiced had traveled till he had the attention of quite a crowd. Not bird, or child broke the silence, only the fountain behind him.

He eventually sat on the edge of the fountain. His voice softer and the crowd all moved in closer to hear what he had to say. “They say peace is bought with the blood, sweat, and tears of soldiers, and that’s not wrong. Families pay the price, factory workers, even reporters. But is sometimes the price of peace too high?” A deep breath and everyone waited to see if he continued. “We paid dearly for peace, nearly a generation of men leaving children to grow up in broken homes. But worst, they will grow up under a government who paid for peace with their conscience, with their humanity, with their souls.” 

A murmur went through the crowd, confusion, agreement, dissent spreading as people were made to think about what exactly had happened. Yes they’d heard the news but had it really been that bad. It was the people at the front who were the first to fall silent as the man spoke, his voice just audible to them before those behind them fell silent to listen. “With a stroke of a pen they ended the war days before the show they broadcast to the world. They say they discussed it, they say they argued against it, but it would save lives. Yeah the lives of our men. The estimates say if we hadn’t used it first, they would have used it. They say if they hadn’t used it, it would have been tens of thousands of more soldiers' lives lost taking the capital. They dont say the soldiers would have given their lives to not watch a city of two hundred thousand, men, women, and children vanish in a flash. It only took the stroke of one man’s pen, and another man to press a single button to bring peace, and erase a city. We justified it as the cost of survival, but what did we save? Was it worth saving?”

A whistle sounded from a dozen yards away and the crowd quickly dispersed but the man kept talking, now mostly just to himself and a few standing right in front of him as he opened his hands and stared at a pair of pilot’s wings. “We used to be, we had stood up for what was right. We took care of our neighbors, built monuments and museums instead of weapons and shelters.”

“Alright break it up.” A peace officer was now standing next to the man still seated on the fountain. “Come on let’s get you home sir.” The other officer dispersed the crowd. 

Across the park stood two men in uniform who watched the whole thing keeping to themselves. “Captain, will he be alright?” the younger of the two men asked. “They’ll help him, you know the weight of what we did, it just weighs heavier on him Sergeant.” With the crowd gone they walked up to the fountain and picked up a set of pilot's wings, it must have been dropped. The captain used his handkerchief and wiped off the placard that had been under where the man had been speaking.

Major Wesly Jones
Bombardier
The Man Who Ended the War

2025 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 10 - Writer's Digest