All was quiet now. The sun was starting to rise, painting the sky the lightest of blues as I picked my way across the field. The ground was strewn with the dead and dying and I stepped carefully looking for the slightest sign of life, ready to help where I could. Some crows had flown down from the trees and were pecking and grabbing at what they found.
The battle had been won but many had given their lives. The earth was pock marked with dismembered body parts already in different stages of decomposition and in between I could see small pieces of coal, a scarf here and there and bright orange carrots which shone out against the white of the snow. There was also the occasional pipe, now cold. The bitter wind brought a tear to my eye or perhaps it was the utter devastation and waste that lay all around.
A call had gone out days before, a call for an army of the brave and the valiant to rise up and fight to save the mother country from the impending and inevitable flood and they answered in their thousands from all corners of the land. Some had travelled days to get here, brave and noble warriors from the north with their gruff and weather beaten features. Others had travelled less far. They were more rotund, more comely and had clearly led a more sheltered life but they were all welcome.
The battle was to take place on the plain where the river curved as it made its way to the sea. No one knew exactly when it would start but everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time. At first they arrived in small numbers, making their way down from the hills or across the fields from the nearby villages. Individuals became groups, groups became crowds and the crowds grew bigger and bigger until eventually they became an army, a legion, a defending force. A leader appeared amongst them and organised them, drilled them, prepared them and gave them their orders.
And then it came. The water had been rising steadily for some hours but now the roar could be heard, the roar of water streaming down, racing faster and faster, boiling with fury and crushing anything that dared to stand in its way.
A trumpet sounded and the men stood to attention. Each knew of their duty and each took their place without question or dissent. Arm in arm they locked themselves together along the river bank creating an impenetrable wall, a defence against the inundation. And then the water was upon them. The roar was deafening. The first men did not stand a chance and were ripped apart by the current but there were others to take their place. Over and over again as the defences were weakened reinforcements would inch forward to do their duty and to take their place. And so it went on, hour after hour, soul after soul until it was over and the water had subsided and the river had been tamed.
And here I found myself in the cold light of dawn in a wet and muddy field, distraught at the death and destruction that had gone before me but thankful that I would be able to tell the tale of those shining white and valiant knights.
Thoughts from a Guerrilla Worker 