Timeless Dreams Read online

Timeless dreams

  Copyright 2013 Irina Bird

  Timeless dreams

  May, year 1809.

  Troops of Italian general Fontanelli.

  Struggle between French-Italian and Austrian troops for Tarvisio.

  I am 18 years old and I was born in Tarvisio in a place forgotten by the world, hidden in the gorge along a stream. This was the only world I had known. Despite poverty those were the happiest years of my life. I am a soldier; they say I have to fight for my homeland and my king. Even if I do not understand everything that they tell me, I obey.

  On the early morning of 16th May, we reached the mountain saddle Samdogan. I feel eagerness and cannot wait anymore to see my family again. Fatigue disappeared, blisters as if they are forgotten. Boots, who long ago served as shoes, have received an incredible force. My step has become lighter and much faster. I have not seen my home place for such a long time, for so long I have not heard what has happened there. The memory evokes an idyllic image of the poor cottage, the woods behind it and wide pastures on which as a child I grazed sheep along with my two brothers. So many beautiful memories bind me to my childhood. Beautiful evenings by the fire, when we baked stolen potatoes, sang songs and with waggishness teased girls. I can still hear frightened screams of my secret love, when I dropped grasshopper behind her skirt. She ran up and down the pasture like if the evil spirit chased her. I had 17 years, when I was torn away from my family. The last memory of home was the face of my mother. In her wrinkled face, framed by too early grown gray hair, showed fear for her youngest son, “Will he be strong enough; am I going to live long enough to see his return?” She has always been so determined, so hard. I do not remember her hugs and kisses, but I always knew that she loves me. When she passed me slices of bread, when she poured soup into my wooden bowl, in this gestures there was so much mildness and tenderness. For me she has always been an angel. I wish to hug her once more and feel that I am her little child again.

  I hear a strict order, which awake me from my dreams. They urge us; they have no time to spare, because they are hoping to reach Tarvisio as soon as possible. They keep telling us that Austrians are weakened and cannot resist our attack. They encourage us, “They will flee, when they will sight us and this will be your final victory. Then you can return to your homes” and this is enough to quicken our pace. They always repeated to me, “You are a dreamer; the military service will change you from boy to a man, to a hero, on which every girl will be proud of. You will grow up and become a strong man.” I believed them, but inside me I feel that I am still a child who wants to chase with peers and tease girls. When they gave me a gun for the first time into my hands, they said, “From now on this will be your girlfriend for better or worse.” I shivered with cold, worn wood and cold steel, the smell of gunpowder and endless cleaning of rifle. Towards weapons I still feel unacceptability and dislike. Although it has saved my life many times, even when we have to fight with fixed bayonets is for me a necessary evil and a burden that I must carry day after day. I feel that I am becoming like my gun, cold and hard. Only moments when I dream about beautiful events from my youth and of my return home, keep a small flame of light, which does not allow me to lose hope and give up.

  They shout again and urge us. I look at my commander. Who is he? Although he forms my days and nights for such a long time now, I do not know him. He is cold, even more than my gun. Sharp lines on emaciated face, curses, masticate of tobacco and spitting, swearing all the time. I know him only for this. And I always try to avoid him, but at the end I always hit on him. I have a feeling that he likes to humiliate me more than all the others, and every time he invents impossible tasks. At least my comrades support and help me. Perhaps because I am the youngest, maybe I remind them on their children, which they left at home.

  They keep saying to us, “Austrians are malicious and they are our greatest enemy.” But I am no longer convinced that they are telling the truth. Especially after I have met a prisoner born somewhere in Austria. They beat him all over; he had to endure many cruel words. When I saw this man’s misery, I took pity on him. His hands were put in chains and he continuously asked for water. When no one was looking, I secretly brought him a cup of water. He drank it up with such a greed, but then he looked at me with such gratitude in his heart... How much warmth was in his look! I still see his eyes; he cannot be an evil person.

  We started descending down the valley towards Tarvisio. The road was in horrible condition, mud everywhere you looked. Everything was soaked. Even though spring should already show its charms, it seems to me that it deliberately delays. I meet with look of my fellow soldier. What is he thinking about? So far from his home. Is he thinking about the sea, about fish he used to caught, or maybe he thinks of the girl who waits for him? He smiles at me and returns his gaze back to the mud. We march in haste and in silence. My sweat runs down my back, the gun becomes heavy beyond words, the backpack cuts into my shoulders. Will I manage? Yet this valley and then my native Tarvisio. I breathe faster and faster and for a moment I feel happy. I imagine how joyful I will be when I will see my home, my brothers and my parents. I will run to their embrace, rock my mother into air, tumble with my brothers and shout for joy. And then until deep night we will tell stories and adventures that have happened to us, meanwhile we will hold each other’s hands with shiny faces and with sparkling eyes of happiness.

  Suddenly whispers among the troops, “Tarvisio has fallen, Tarvision has fallen. The Austrians have withdrawn, they flee and they have evacuated all inhabitants of Tarvisio.” Cold sweat wetted my forehead and my heart stopped. I refused to listen, they must be mistaken. I do not let them to destroy my dreams. It cannot be true. My family is waiting for me at home; mother is putting wood on the fire and I know that she waits for me. My legs suddenly became heavier and minutes became so long. The road stretched into infinity, I can barely hear the noises around me, I can barely hear orders. Just thought, home, home, home.

  Finally I notice first houses of Tarvisio. In the distance you can still hear noise of a battle and striking of grenades. My blood freezes in my veins. Burnt beams, nasty smell of death and fire. View so different from the memories of my departure. But there still exists a flicker of hope. They commanded us to stop and rest. I implore for a moment to go to my home; only forest separates me from it, the wood that I crossed so many times, where I used to know every tree and bush. I run but I do not feel my steps, I bump into trees, I almost fall as if I am crossing this forest for the first time. Only the hazel hedge prevents me from seeing my house. I do not feel branches striking me in the face anymore. Just few more steps and I will see my mother waiting for me in the courtyard. I rush through last remaining bushes and suddenly I stop as petrified. The sight I see is almost unrecognizable; the fire remains coldly rise to the sky. There is no one. I search with my eyes, surprised and worried. My feelings are confused and I do not understand what is happening. I hear a cry, cry of horror, I hear my own cry. I fall on my knees, bury my hands into the earth and cry out of faintness. I only shout. When cramps of exhaustion shake my body, I feel something warm that slips down my cheek. I cry without knowing it, I am crying, crying for my dreams. They live no more, the only thing that has left for me ceased to exist. Died.

  I do not know how I wandered back to the troops. Everyone look at me with astonishment and then they turn again their gazes away. A terrible nightmare lies into my heart. I do not feel my body nor pain as if I do not exist anymore, only the weight on my heart. I do not know what I am supposed to do, I only follow my companions. We are marching again. Over the whole land falls dreadful silence, as if the tribute of blood was finished. But the last beams of sunset seem to announce yet many victims. They command the attack. I hear only t
he crashing of grenades; everything is like a dream, a nightmare. I run up the hill, I hear my breath, the explosions of bombs and whistling of bullets around me. A comrade falls in front of me, I stumble against him and I also fall. The wind carries dense smoke so we cannot see what is in front of us. The awful smell of gunpowder, blood and death all around us. I stand up and look at my fallen friend for a brief moment. He remains lying; I can see the blood slipping down his face. I make few more steps. Then a horrible pain and a feeling as if I could fly towards the sky. Images dance in front of my eyes, I can see figure of my mother and then I fall. The body does not obey me, I feel something warm and adhesive between my fingers. Why? Only thoughts and intense pain left. Why? Why will I not see my beloved ones ever again, why war? All becomes so crystal clear suddenly. All the absurdity of war, which takes away the most precious things in life. It takes away your dreams and ideals. All the pompous words about the sense of war lose their meaning. Nonsense. Why? For whom? The darkness wraps me, I sink and sink. The noise becomes more and more distant. Darkness, end, death.

  As if all this was just a dream, I hear voices again. I hear whispering, I move my fingers. I feel, I am still alive. I try to move, but an unbearable pain in the chest strikes me. I feel the warmth of hand that caresses my forehead. I hear tender voice, “Open your eyes”. I gather all my strength and I hardly open my eyes. A strong light blinds me and the figure beside me seems like an angel, all shine upon bright light. Am I dreaming or am I really alive? Once again I hear sweet persuasion, my gaze clears up and next to me I see a young girl. “Are you an angel?” I ask her. And she smiles at me with warm and loving smile. “Do not be afraid, everything will go well, your wounds will heal”, she responds. Her words calm me down so I close my eyes and the joy of this vision flows through my heart. I start crying. “Just cry, cry out your pain young soldier”, I hear. And I cry of joy and because the pain of the memory that slowly comes back to my consciousness. “My family, where are they?” “Do not worry”, she says, “your family ran to safety already before the war. You will see them when you recover from injury”. I cry even stronger, but this time because of joy. My dreams and faith have saved my life, I am alive, I will see my mother again, I am alive.

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  About the Author

  Irina Bird is a young writer trying to portray that nothing is black and white. Her combination of imagination and anthropology shows differences and similarities between us and the “others”. When not writing she is shaping glass in all possible forms or taking care of abandoned pets.

  Other books by this author

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  To live forever

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