He awoke to another cloudless day. The sun had not yet come up, but the sky was crystal clear. It seemed all the days were cloudless. At least in nature.
But this day was not like the others. This was THE day. The day he had long feared would come, and today it had.
Sighing, he began his morning ritual. First a shower, shave, then donning of his uniform. The others were not stirring, but there was little doubt that many were still sleeping. Finally, at 0530, local time, he emerged from his hut and addressed the guards on duty. Eating just did not appeal to him. Not today.
At 0600, he found the battalion bugler, and together they went to the parade ground. 4 hours till the appointed time. 4 hours left of his command. Sounding revily, the camp was brought to waking, and all the men fell out into formation. All that is but the guards, who would be relieved in a couple of hours for a little sack time.
The platoon commanders called their rolls, and all answered present. No one had thought to desert. But then where would they go to? Not like they could just up and run to another place. Swimming was another matter, but not many would even try certain suicide. Besides, it was not honorable, and that was what they were all about. Honor. Funny how the word sounded on this day.
After roll call, he assembled his staff and told them "one more inspection of the base". One more. For old times sake? No. For his denial of what he knew to be about to occur. Still, the mind had a way of trying to hide the most distasteful of activities. A way of prolonging his denial, that was all.
The shore guns were clean and ready for firing. Searching the horizon for an enemy that no longer existed. An enemy they had fought long and hard. At the start it had been a noble endeavor. One that they knew they were right! How dare they try to dictate to us how to run our country! How dare they try to strangle them economically! They were a proud and noble people! No one should ever dare to question the rightness of their cause! And so it had begun.
At first, the news was always good. The men were in high spirits, if bored on this out of the way post. But soon the news became infrequent, and then there were whispers. Whispers of things not going well, although no official word came.
Then, about 6 months ago, the supplies had stopped. He was so sick of the local food they had made do with. He vowed never to eat another fish for as long as he lived! But they were not wanting for food, and the weather being temperate, nor clothing.
Then the new orders had come in. Barely 7 days ago. 7 days ago the world had changed, and not for the better. 7 Days ago, they had told him it was over. They had surrendered. Unconditionally. And he was to turn over his command to the enemy commander at 1000 hours on this day. They would be arriving by launch.
0930, and the inspection was over. His last he knew. He took the remaining time to thank his officers and NCOs. They had served well and long, and never complained of their lot or the post. He wished them well, but knew not what would become of them.
1000, right on time. Those damn people were so damn punctual! But best to get it over with. Denial time was over. He stood at attention in the middle of the parade ground, with his adjutants lined up behind him. Up walked the enemy - he corrected himself - the victorious commander. He saluted and it was returned in kind. After the formal words were spoken, he offered his sword as the symbol of their surrender.
The commander of the "victorious" side, refused it, and bade him keep it. That was noble. At least the enemy seemed to share his sense of honor and duty to country. After a few more words were exchanged, he arranged for his adjutants to show the others the layout of the camp and where all ammunition stores were kept. There was no use in any more killing. There had been enough as it was.
Thanking the commander, he took his leave. But instead of feeling like the whole world was coming down on him, he felt like a great burden had been lifted! For the first time in many months, he no longer felt the pressures and stress of command, or of winning and losing. It was freedom that he felt. Freedom from responsibility.
Without another word being spoken, he went back to his quarters. He removed his tunic, and donned his ancestors sash, A very honored sash it was. And kneeling at the small shrine, the only luxury he ever allowed himself, he bowed, and thrust his sword through his body.