A small apology

I'm sorry to have left you sensitive types who relish a good ending out for now. But I feel what better way to start an analysis of literature's elements than with the last thing you'll read? The ending after all can make or break a book.

For the meantime, I'll offer you a little story instead. Let's imagine we're a few years in the future, in a country not at all unlike Russia...

Anyone who says this place has a “majestic” landscape is a liar. Those “wonderful” cliffs took out three men. And guess what? We can’t cross the “amazing” river. Oh, and don’t forget the weather. Rain, all the time. We get dry and then it’s raining again. It’s a wonder our kit doesn’t rust, it’s so wet. And then there’s the enemy. Who know this place. Our maps are wrong, out intelligence is days old, we have no cover and we’re alone. And we’re surrounded. There’s no chance of getting supplies unless we can steal some, and we can’t do that unless we can find a lone camp or patrol. And guess what? They haven’t got any lone units. They outnumber us ten to one, and yet we were told they were on the point of defeat. So, a recap of our situation. We’re in a cave, surrounded, they don’t know exactly where we are. We haven’t eaten for a week, there’s no supplies anyway and I’m watching a woman bleed to death in front of me. There was a sniper, you see. Well, I’d better tell you the whole story. Sofia was one of our newest, part of the great drive for manpower. And she was so hungry, you see. Hadn’t eaten for days and all that. So she thought she would foray out of our safe little cave. Hadn’t got a hundred yards and then – bang! – they shot her in the leg. And I know that was intentional. So, she’s pretty much immobilised, ‘cause the grounds so slippery and there’s this sniper, and we can’t raise a white flag ‘cause we haven’t got one. And the scum wouldn’t respect it anyway. I mean, they could have killed Sofia but no, she’s lying out there on the rocks crying. I can just about hear what she’s saying, and it goes like this. “Why does it hurt so? When will they help me? They will help me, won’t they?” She’s been repeating that for the two hours she’s been lying there. The water’s quite red around her, it’s a bad wound. No-one has the heart to tell her help won’t come, but it won’t, not ever. Oh, and she’s only gone and given away our position. God, she screamed loud. And the sniper must have seen where she came from. So, I’m in a cave waiting to die while I’m watching a woman bleed to death from a leg wound. War is great, isn’t it?