Daniel Davis was born and raised in Central Illinois.  His work has appeared in "The Ampersand Review," "Bartleby Snopes," "Necessary Fiction," and elsewhere.  You can find him at www.dumpsterchickenmusic.blogspot.com.

Deserters (April 20, 2011. Issue 27.)

It was the middle of the night when the General heard someone outside his tent, clearing their throat. He roused himself, slipped on his spectacles, and sat up. "Yes?"

A Major opened the flap. "Sir, I've captured a Private in the act of deserting."

The General sighed, stood, and grabbed his pistol. He joined the Major outside, where a pale, half-naked man waited. At the sight of the General, the Private stepped forward and said, "General, sir, please, let me explain—"

The General shot the man in the face. The body fell to the earth, and the General said to the Major, "Deserters are to be shot on sight. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The Major hesitated. The General was walking back to his tent when the Major said, "Sir?"

"What? Do you have any idea how late it is?"

"The officers, sir…"

"Surely the officers are not deserting as well, Major? They are all stout men."

"The battle has been very hard, sir. The officers have been talking of going home. They want to see their families, sir."

The General sighed. He tried not to laugh at his men, but sometimes it was hard. "Very well, Major." He could not suppress a smile, tired as he was. "If any of the officers try to desert, you have my permission to shoot them on sight as well."

"Yes, sir." The Major saluted, turned, and left.

The General returned to his tent and fell into a dense slumber. The day's battle had indeed been rough; he could feel it in his bones. He was no longer young; he'd been a General too long, had ridden too many horses and fired too many pistols. He was so old that nights were no longer for sleep; they were for deep, unsuppressed memories, which came in the form of dreams and robbed him of his senses. He had been known, in the last few years, to awaken mid-scream, soaked in sweat or urine. The miles had not treated him well.

He awoke an hour later to the sound of gunfire. He sighed. "More deserters," he mumbled to himself, and slipped back into unconsciousness. He was awakened not much later by still more gunfire; again, he drifted off. He did not come fully awake until a third time, which came from nearby. He leapt out of his cot, grabbed his pistol, put on his spectacles, and went outside.

He met the Major, approaching from the officers' quarters. The Major was reloading his pistol.

"Major," said the General, "what in the blazes is going on?"

"Deserters, sir." The Major finished reloading the pistol and holstered it at his waist. He ran his fingers over his mustache. The General remembered what it was like to have such a fine mustache. "Quite a lot of them, I'm afraid."

The General shook his head. "How many, Major?"

"All of them, General."

The General's eyes widened to the point of bursting. "What? All of whom?"

"Your men, sir. It seems that they all were tired and wanted to see their families. Down to a man, sir, they tried to leave."

"And the officers?"

"Them too, sir."

"You shot all of them?"

"Per your orders, General. We had barely enough ammunition."

"What? Are there no soldiers left to fight, then?"

"Just you and I, General." The Major dug his foot into the soil. "However…"

"Say it, man!"

"However, General, I regret to inform you that the front has moved forward three miles since you and I last spoke."

"Indeed!"

"But General…we are currently behind our own lines. As per your own orders, sir, we are both currently deserts."

The General smiled and shook his head. But the smile slipped from his face as he thought of the Major's words. He said, "Dear God."

"I'm sorry to inform you, sir…"

"No, no." The General lifted a hand—the one holding the pistol. "No need, Major. I know the laws. As a general, I am entitled to carry out the requisite actions myself. You'll carry on, won't you, Major?"

"Indeed, sir." The Major saluted.

The General returned the gesture and shot himself in the head. He fell to the ground.

The Major frowned at the body, which happened to land immediately beside that of the Private who had been shot earlier in the night. The Major remained standing there for a minute longer, before he turned and went to find his wife and children, hundreds of miles away.