War - Andras Pinkava

It is a bright, clear day. Men stand in rows, sweating in their heavy boots and uniforms. They stand at attention, at the ready. Today, they go to war. At the end of the last row, a singular individual stands also. She is not tall and strong like the men around her. She is not going to war. She is here with her father, who stands at attention next to her. Quietly he takes her hand and whispers- “Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy will be just fine. OK?” She looks up at him, her eyes squinting in the sun. The whistle sounds and she hurries back to her mother. She watches her father march away onto one of the planes, then she watches the planes as they disappear into the blue. The sun is bright and hot. The men, proud, strong, and tall, are gone. The cement bakes in the midday sun. The girl has long since gone home with her mother. And still, the sun shines on.