Continuation of the short story: "The Well of Grave" |

SINCE the first day, the residents had been praying that the troops who had only been occupying the post on the edge of the swamp for a month would immediately move. The troops—who arrived with a military ceremony like the previous company—had transformed their village into hell. Not only for the enemy, but also for children, women, and innocent parents who were forced to see the real hell that they had never imagined in their nightmares.

Each troop has its own character which is formed by many reasons, one of which is the behavior of the commander. The command stick is sometimes stronger than the hissing prayers from cracked, bleeding lips. Every time there was a shift in troops, the night prayers groaned for God to send troops whose commander's heart was made from the clear water in the residents' wells.

The village on the edge of the swamp did have abundant reserves of clean water. The residents' wells never dried up and the water tasted fresh even though it was near the swamp. The surrounding villages often experienced droughts because long before the conflict erupted, the residents' land had been turned into oil palm plantations.

Since the armed conflict struck, tears have flowed more rapidly than the springs of the residents' wells. During the dry season, residents of neighboring villages flock to the village on the edge of the swamp to transport water, especially for drinking.

The blessing turned into a curse after an incident where a soldier was found dead (they forbade calling him dead) hanging. Since then, the well that contained clear and fresh water turned into a scary grave. Every time there was an attack, residents who did not know anything were forced to jump into the well to meet their death.

The army had difficulty catching the guerrillas who were said to be as slippery as eels in a pool of oil. So they chose to stir up the oil so that the eels would get drunk, even though in fact it was the residents who suffered. The infantry troops lost their way to catch the guerrillas who often attacked and fled and disappeared at the same time.

The army had to be vigilant at all times, and it was not easy. They had to suspect everything, from children, women, even the elderly even though it seemed impossible to throw grenades in the middle of the night. The situation in the village on the edge of the swamp was very frightening. No one dared to leave the house when the sky started to get dark. The darker it got, the more tense it was. But the fear did not disappear when morning came.

One morning that should have been beautiful because there were still chickens and birds that dared to call, was torn apart with an explosion in front of the command post. The explosion was followed by the roar of motorbikes, shouts and curses, and ended with a series of gunshots. That's the order when an army post is attacked.

To be Continued….