text: Private Collins was just coming out of his tent when he saw a group of his fellow soldiers sitting close together, sharing some great news. Curiously he stepped towards the group. As soon as the others saw him, they rushed to their comrade’s side. Collins was confused, as for what could be worth such a fuss. “Collins,” one of them spoke up, seemingly distressed. “You’ve got to come.” “What is it?” “It’s Fletcher, they say he’s a deserter.” “He what?” Collins exclaimed starting to feel the same distress creep up on him. “Fletcher wouldn’t be able to desert the colours if his bloody life depended on it.” The soldier tried to joke. But the smile froze on his face, when he realised, they were telling the truth. “Where is he now?” Collins asked whilst his stomach sank deeper and deeper. &#x200B; Collins found his friend confined to his tent and guarded by two soldiers from another regiment. Like stone, their faces showed no emotion as their eyes stared ahead. When Collins approached, they reacted by crossing their bayonets. “I just want to speak to him,” the Englishman pleaded. The guards exchanged a glance before replying. “Make it quick,” opening one of the tent’s flaps. Swiftly Collins went inside, finding his friend sitting on the ground. With his knees drawn to the chin, Fletcher was staring at the dirt in front of him. “Fletcher,” Collins uttered relieved upon seeing his friend unharmed. “What trouble did you get yourself into now?” In one motion Fletcher sprung up and clung to his friend. “I haven’t done anything,” he whispered with dread. Collins could feel his friend’s body trembling, despite the other man’s efforts to hide it. “They are going to shot me, once the sun stands highest.” Fletcher’s revelation sent Collins’ own blood racing through his body. He looked his friend in the eye before using a demanding tone. “What happened,” but the stubborn fellow just shook his head and sat back down. With a sullen face he continued staring at nothing, waiting for his end. “What about general Green?” Collins tried to get some information from his friend. Fletcher only shook his head again. Fury rose inside Collins at his friend’s lack of will to survive. Without another word he went outside and towards general Green’s tent. &#x200B; To his luck the general let him inside at once. The man in charge of their regiment was writing a letter when Collins entered. “In a moment,” he remarked without looking up. Laying down the feather he gestured Collins to speak. “Sir, it’s about Fletcher.” A shadow passed briefly over Collins’ superior’s face. “He is been accused of desertion by general Morgan and a sergeant who witnessed it.” Green said in a voice indicating his sincere condolences. “But sir,” Collins continued. “I know Fletcher. He would rather die than become a traitor.” “I believe you,” Green assured him. “But your word counts nothing against a general’s.” “Is there no way to at least lessen the sentence. A flogging.” Collins begged the man in front of him. “It is not in my power to change the sentence,” he replied sympathetically. Getting up from his desk he laid a hand on Collins’ shoulder. “Has anything happened that could have upset Morgan?” Collins remembered his friend’s silence at the topic of what had happened. “I don’t know, Fletcher won’t tell me. Would it make a difference?” “No,” seeing the despair in Collins eyes the general tried to comfort him. “I am sorry, those rules give rise to much suffering for good, honest men like you or Fletcher.” “I volunteer to execute him!” Collins said firmly, although he knew it wasn’t his place to decide that. “I am not going to sacrifice two good men in one day.” “I want to be there for him.” “Be there like the others,” Green dismissed the request and turned to go back to his desk. “I don’t want him to die, feeling like a traitor. I want him to know I am right there with him, until the end. Taking part in his suffering.” The general turned around and took a deep breath. With kindness and worry he looked at Collins. “You can not go back from this. You will kill your friend.” “It is my duty as his friend to share his pain. I will give him mercy, even if it’s not fair.” A hint of accusation had sneaked itself into Collins’ voice. But his superior ignored it. “Fairness is not a soldier’s concern, lad.” Green handed him a canteen, “take it. You both need it more than I do right now.” &#x200B; Outside Collins looked up at the clear French sky. The sun was almost at its highest. Receiving entrance to his friend’s tent once again Collins sneaked inside. “You shouldn’t be here Collins. It’s almost time,” his friend uttered without moving his head. “Here,” Collins gave his friend the canteen which contained rum. Fletcher took a sip, and another when Collins urged him to go on. “I am not going to leave you, my friend.” Fletcher cast him a questioning look. Taking a deep breath Collins brazed himself for any reaction. “I am going to be part of the firing squad.” At once Fletcher got up, his eyes wide with an emotion Collins could not name. “What? You can’t be serious!” “You won’t change my mind in the last couple of minutes now. Might as well make peace with it.” Collins grinned at how his friend forgot to close his mouth at the reflection of his own stubbornness. None of them wanted to end their last conversation with a fight. Fletcher’s eyes beamed with guilt and gratitude, when he handed Collins the canteen. “You will need it when,” his words faltered. Collins hugged his friend one last time. “I will go with you to the end, mate.” &#x200B; When it was time, Collins felt the pit in his stomach growing bigger with each step. Fletcher was about to be blindfolded when the two men said their silent goodbyes to each other. A thousand thoughts crossed Collins’ mind in the few seconds between blindfolding and firing. A hundred scenarios how he could try to escape with his friend. But he knew Fletcher was like him, a man of honour. Life might play dirty, but they would face it nonetheless. Collins had a duty to fulfil. And Fletcher would send him to hell if he would abandon it. The private made an effort to remember their best moments together. Remembered his friends smile when they had sat around the fire at night. Or their jokes, when they had marched together. When the order came, Collins pulled without hesitating. Solemnly he thought, how that half canteen of rum would be good company the coming night.