Drafted

Nude's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. The

postman muttered something about wishing he could go too

and handed over a yellow envelope.

It was a command long overdue that called for healthy,

young men.



In reply to your request,

please find...

I hereby protest.

To the ways and means you use

you know...

I cannot refuse.



So I'll take this vow

of Loyalty.

Fight for the right,

You have said,

To be free.



When this time has run it's course,

I must...

Live without remorse.

For the deeds I'm bound to do,

I know...

it's all the same to you.



But I won't forget

the memory...

Taking a life,

for a life...

to be free.



Nude's life revolved around orders. He found himself pushed

and pulled onto a crowded deck of uniformed figures who

shared the same expressionless faces. Loved ones stood

anxiously on the pier as the transport faded into separating mist.

Water and night seemed one. Nude was going to war...



Thunder cracked. Ramps hit the beach and countless boots

assaulted the shore. His heart punding, Nude stumbled

headlong into the undergrowth in a desperate search for

refuge. Sheets of rain drenched the sunless forest as the skies

opened raging down on the tiny island. Panic-stricken, Nude

staggered forward and fell unconscious.

Raindrops spattered from the trees onto Nude's face.

Startled and confused, Nude listened in the humid silence; he

was alone and had no idea where he was. Worst of all, he didn't

know what had become of his Regiment.

The setting sin left Nude with the growing darkness of his

fears. He made camp and slept with dreams of a dawn rescue,

unaware that his Unit had already left the island. In wartime, one

less soldier is hardly noticeable.



Seasons turned with time. Nude had given up the search for his

Unit but continued to move through the jungle, bayonet poised,

as if a thousand eyes were upon him. Home was a cave in a

hidden lagoon with abundant vegetation and fresh springs. The

highest point of the island provided shelter from annual

monsoon floods and sanctuary for his soul.

His military duties consisted of a monthly visit to the

mountain top whereupon he ceremoniously croaked the

national anthem and fired one precious bullet into the air.

In the loneliness he endured, Nude found an inner strength

that flowed with the rhythm of instinct.