Fiction

Final Victory

The war started in the twentieth century and ended in the twenty first.

There were two nations. Let us call them A and B. Nation B had been oppressed in the past and were almost exterminated but its people managed to survive and flourish. When they became resourceful enough, they went and occupied land belonging to Nation A, pushing its people out of their homeland and cornering them and crowding them in a small area. So the oppressed became the oppressors.

Nation A was outflanked – physically, strategically, and economically. It was on the verge of destruction but it held on until one day, it managed to throw its shackles off. How did it happen? Well, you could say it happened because of a small girl close to your ages. A six year old girl. Yes. It started small.

One time, Nation B attacked the settlements of Nation A, threw bombs and missiles on hospitals and schools, killed civilians included women and children. One of the children to die was the six year old girl. Shrapnel from a bomb hit her, cutting off both her legs from ankles. Her father ran to her and picked her up.  She put her arms around her father’s neck.  Her father cried in agony. She opened her eyes and looked at her father. I am pretty sure she must have tried to wipe her father’s tears with her hands. That is how little girls are, you know. Then her hands went slack and she died. And at that moment, a journalist snapped a photo of the father and daughter and the photo circulated through the world. Wherever people whose feelings had not been ossified saw the picture, they wept. Many prayed – some of them for the first time – asking God to deliver Nation A from oppression.

That was the first victory.

There were countries neighboring Nations A and B. And these countries outwardly professed friendship to Nation A and denounced Nation B but the denunciation was nothing but empty word. With their oil resources, they controlled the world economy and they could easily pressurize Nation B into giving up their oppression but their governments and rulers preferred to sit on their plush behinds, rolling in money and enjoying all the intoxicating pleasures money entailed. The people of these countries saw the little girl’s picture – and surrounded the palaces of their rulers, demanding action, or else… Forced this way, the rulers finally came around and applied pressure where it needed to be applied, getting results.

That was the second victory.

The son of the leader of Nation B said to his father, "The thought that I am your son sickens me. I wish I was born to parents from Nation A."

That was the final victory.