Faceless

He is standing in front of the military court, looking down at his feet. Cold sweat is dripping into his eyes and lips, blurring his vision and mind. All around, he feels tension in every corner of the room, in every breath he takes, in every sound he hears. The air feels thicker than usual.  

Suddenly, he hears a frightening sound of the hammer. He feels shivers running through his entire body. He feels weak. 

“Silence, Everyone!” screams the judge. “We gathered here to conduct a trial regarding the persecution of Alexander Belov, with the rank of First Lieutenant, from active service. 

Unexpectedly, Alex feels dizzy, with all his memories flowing into his brain, unable to control himself, he suddenly sees a place from his childhood. He opens his eyes, and instead of seeing the court, he sees a village where he grew up. It was summer two years ago. He sees his mother baking his favourite apple pie, her eyes observing all like a mother bear. He sits down next to her, gazing into her eyes, and sees the history of her soul, which she hides within. 

“Alex,” she had said, with a voice as soft as silk, “loving your country, your motherland, is not the same as worshipping the wars, but protecting its soul, its history.” 

He remembered how the wind tickled his cheeks, the smell of the pie, and her words digging inside his heart. 

“But, mother,” Alex replied, “in school, they taught us that we must fight for our country. They said it’s our duty and we should sacrifice our lives for the greater good.” 

His mom laughed softly, while her heart ached deep inside. She understood that her son was destined to accept such a destiny. But she didn’t show her sorrow to him. She laughed brightly. “Duty is not always what they tell you it is. Our duty is to remember who we are and not lose ourselves when the world tells us to. 

Her words sink in, and as he closes his eyes, he shifts back into reality. The voices are getting louder and louder, accusations keep pouring in, and testimonies keep being said. His mind drifts from reality to hallucinations. 

His friend near him leans in closer and whispers, “What’s happening, Belov? What terrible thing did you do to deserve such a trial?”

Alex’s response was as silent as a snail during the rain. “During the battle, I chose to save a life instead of killing one.” 

The room gets smaller and smaller, and Alex feels he is about to faint due to claustrophobia. He lifts his gaze for the first time and sees judgmental glances. He looks at all the court members, trying to understand their hearts. The court was divided into two opinions: one part understood the moral complexity of saving one’s life, and respected this decision, while the other part respected a blind obedience to the rules of warfare. 

The judge’s hammer strikes again.

“Soldier Alexander Belov,” the words caught his ears and sliced into his chest, “you stand accused of…”

The words that seem so far away do not enter his ears. He shifts back into the village, looking at the old houses, and glancing into the windows, seeing happy families gathering for lunch. Birds were singing brightly, and the sun burned harshly on his pale skin. While roaming through the city, he notices a group of soldiers walking towards the village's central square. He runs to catch up with them. While running closer to them, he notices that these are soldiers from different nations, but they are all bleeding and harmed. They do not have faces. 

A voice that seems familiar yet distant whispers: “These soldiers failed to comply with their duty. They have killed. They have lost themselves. That’s why they’re faceless.” 

Then he tells himself: “Remember, your duty is to protect the soul of your land, you gave a promise. You have a choice. Killing for your land is not your duty; it’s murder justified by the government. Remember!” 

He opened his eyes again. However, he gained back his confidence. He is back. He is ready to fight back.