little soldier brave

behind the wall this little boy crouches, bright blue shirt and checkered shorts, waiting for the enemy to make their move. he knows it’s time, skinny legs straighten to fling him out, missing concrete. and front teeth. small frame rolls up to standing, he advances firing from the hip, the clatter of his oversized machine gun deafening. terrified enemies hidden in waiting, all return fire. young boy dances for them and reaches to his pocket from where he produces a grenade, armed and thrown. they yell and are pushed back, up and down by the blast, the remainder scatter, their commanding officer issues orders no more. wild-eyed running for far cover, cut down by the boy’s gunfire, a last few final breaths. young boy slips under the growth, crawls into the shrubbery unseen. now the boy knows where, and he knows how. backpack hidden at the foot of a tree he begins to assemble his explosive charge. blue over red, gum to hold down the wires. under the cover of trees, through their cold shadow he advances further, all at the ready, eyes and ears alert for movement. puts the charge in the corner, sets the timer and a mad scramble for cover. slim running figure attracts attention they fire as he runs. the boy spots a small depression and dives, explosive charge ignites, enemy soldiers now battered and torn. catching his breath through the smoke returning now with cover fire he hears the enemies screaming: “himmel!” and “aaargh”, just like he has read in the comics. they fling back their weapons and emerge, prisoners of the young boy army. from the house a familiar voice snap back to reality: “supper’s ready!” boy goes down to one knee to reload, “looks like we got ‘em”...“okay, i’m coming mom!”