With battle lines drawn, two warring tribes of mice prepare for another day of deadly combat. Aside from a few brief times of peace, this morning will begin as it had every morning, for as long as any one in Patria or Mumia could remember. Each fighting force was made of three parts: a right flank, middle, and a left flank. As the sun rose above them, the leaders of Mumia and Patria would decide how each of their three parts would interact. Sometimes their actions would be met with success, sometimes with failure. The only sure thing in combat for either side, however, was pain and death.
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“Take your soldiers and put them on the right of the Mumin forces!”
“Yes Smer!”
“Gorn, set up your battery of stones on their left. Rain stones down on them and soften their right flank for our spear attack!”
“Yes Smer!”
“Smer, sir, we just received word of a spear attack in the village. The Mumin killed five Patrae soldiers on vacation with their wives.”
“Have they been caught?”
“They fought to the bitter end and none were taken alive. Another Mumin suicide mission.”
“Bah! Those suicide missions do nothing but strengthen our hatred of them.
Send a squad into Mumia and kill that many soldiers, plus two more.”
“Yes sir!”
“Gorn, is your battery ready to begin fire?”
“On your mark Smer!”
“Spears ready?”
“Ready sir!”
“Fire the stones!”
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“It’s getting light as the sun rises. The Patrae will begin the battle soon. If I know Smer he’ll attack our flank. Have we sent along extra shields to the soldiers?”
“Yes Hex, every last one.”
“Commander Hex, the spear attack in the Patrae village was a success!”
“How many dead?”
“Five Patrae soldiers!”
“After the battle I wish to congratulate the brave young soldiers we sent on that raid. Have them wait for me at headquarters.”
“They were all killed by the Patrae, none of them made it back.”
“Six Mumin lost, taking only five Patrae lives?”
“Yes Hex.”
“Hardly a successful raid! Send on the usual message to their families about how proud we all are of them. The Patrae will be seeking revenge, so make sure everyone stays away from the thickets and looks for enemy raiders.”
“Yes sir!”
“Here comes the battery, Commander!”
“Raise the shields and ready the spears! The battle is engaged!”
Etc. The battle unfolds through a few more such paragraphs, giving the reader the style of fighting, some history of the battles and shows that each side uses god to justify their position.
“The Patrae artillery is pounding us as we chase their spears in retreat, Commander.”
“Just chase them back to their rank then pull back. What about our attack on their middle?”
“Weak resistance, sir, we will occupy their middle trenches soon.”
“Excellent work. The sun will be setting soon and we’ll be in a good position to attack them in the morning. We will push our forces right into their middle, and won’t stop until we get to the heart of Patria!”
“Well done sir, God is with us.”
“Indeed”
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“Smer, the Mumin have taken our middle trenches, but we have pulled the spears back. Our right and left flanks are safe now that the fighting has stopped.”
“Did the Mumin fall back to their line after we called our spears back?”
“Yes sir, they retreated back to the trench we tried to take this morning.”
“Casualties?”
“The numbers are coming in now. We lost many spears, but our battery of the Mumin middle kept deaths in the division low.”
“Start the burials, and feed the soldiers. They must be hungry after a day fighting.”
“Yes sir.”
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“Narinda, eat your dinner and stop talking.” Her mother placed another dish in front of her.
“It’s ok Velana, she wants to know the result of today’s battle.”
“You are just a hopeful old soldier, Jorlas, hoping your daughter will grow up to be a fighter like you.”
Jorlas glared over his food at his wife. “There is nothing wrong with telling her the truth and hope she feels pride in being Mumin.”
With a smile on his weathered graying face, Jorlas excitedly described the events of the day’s battle in detail to Narinda.
“So after all that, at the end of the day, it seems our forces managed to rout out the enemy,” he concluded. “Makes me wish I were there again. It’s been awhile since my body was shaken by a satisfying victory.”
“Grampa says there were a lot of casualties on both sides,” Narinda said, picking at her food and challenging her father, “that we only gained back the ground we lost last week. I wouldn’t call that a victory.”
“Well Grampa Bonfiglio knows nothing about this war,” Jorlas said rolling his eyes. “If you want to know what language God speaks, or what God thinks about Mumia, then seek out his wisdom. If you want to know why we aren’t safe in our own homes anymore, ask me.”
“Jorlas! You’ll scare her to death!” Velana looked angrily at her husband. “Now tell her the truth!”
“The truth is we won’t be safe until Patria is destroyed,” he shot back. “Those mice are monsters.”
“Jason was telling some of the mice today that Mumin and Patrae mice are equals. He said that the war wouldn’t be over until both sides realized it, or destroyed each other.” Narinda ate and refused to look at her father.
“We’re not equals, Narinda, even your Grampa would agree that we are given this land by divine right. In his eyes they are trespassers.” Jorlas looked at each member of his family. “Even the Patrae agree Mumia virtually dropped out of the sky. We were put here for a reason, as God’s chosen mice. We are smarter then they are and we have better tools for combat. It’s just a matter of time until we crush them.”
“Well Jason said . . .”
“Jason! You’ve been spending too much time listening to this Jason boy. He’s of the age where he should be joining the military soon.”
“Jorlas, please,” Velana shook her head.
“Jason won’t join. He doesn’t believe in this war.”
“If he won’t defend his fellow mice he’s not welcome in our house, have I made myself clear?” Jorlas said angrily. “There’s nothing wrong with being Mumin, he should be proud! Why does he hate us so much?”
Narinda was defiant. “He doesn’t hate anyone, just the opposite. He loves all life—our lives and the lives of our enemies.”
Jorlas sighed.
“Jason is a . . . he’s . . .”
“Young and tolerant,” Bonfiglio finished for him, just coming in from his evening walk. “But I wouldn’t expect a single-minded old warrior like yourself to understand that Jorlas.” He stared at Jorlas through his squinted, happy eyes, smiling.
The tension in the room suddenly disappeared. Velana walked over to her father and hugged him. She could hardly reach around him due to his large size. He often joked that he was as wide as he was tall.
“Jason is a fine Mumin,” Bonfiglio continued, patting Narinda on the head. “He just can’t understand that we were given this land, and they were not. They don’t deserve to die for not accepting God’s will, but they should move on. God made it for us, or Mumia wouldn’t be here.”
Narinda’s mother changed the subject.
“Did you enjoy your walk? You’ve been gone for ages! Where do you go day after day?”
“Just get some exercise,” Bon said, patting his large belly, “and get away from all this war talk to quiet my mind.”
“Well I wish you didn’t,” Velana said. “The Patrae are sending soldiers into the thickets looking for spies.”
Bon picked at some leftover food. “Well I don’t think someone my age could be mistaken for a spy. The white hair on my body might make me easier to spot, but it also tells everyone I’m a Grampa.” He smiled at Narinda.
Narinda smiled back then looked at her father. “Jason walks through the thickets unarmed because he doesn’t believe in fighting.”
“We’ve heard quite enough about Jason for the night, Narinda,” her father interrupted.
Narinda stood up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked angrily as she walked outside.
“I’m going for a walk like Grampa.”
“No you’re not, you’re just a little girl. It’s getting dark out, it’s too dangerous. Go to your room.”
She looked to Bon, who nodded in the direction of her room. She stormed into her room in tears.
As she sat in the corner sobbing, she wondered why her father was so hard on her. He just didn’t understand her. He was so old and stupid! She wished she was a grown up so she could do what she wanted.
In the front room where her parents were finishing dinner, she heard the familiar voices of her neighbors. One of them had a dispute with another mouse, and as all Mumin mice do in this kind of situation, he needed Bonfiglio to settle it. This could take hours. No one would notice if she sneaked out of her room again. She dried her tears and set out for her favorite stream in all of Mumia.
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The clatter of battle over, the night was filled with the groans of injured mice and the digging of graves. Smer walked among his Patrae warriors, congratulating them on a brave fight. It was his tradition, assuring the soldiers that they had done well and that he cared about them. In return, his troops loved him. Smer was a veteran of war. Scarred with injuries he received in combat, and missing one eye, he had given all he could for the Patrae cause. His patches of bare skin, his wiry graying hair and painful limp gave hope to those that had been injured. If he had survived his severe injuries, so could they.
“Take care of that injury,” he said, kneeling next to a mouse whose leg was shattered. “You are no good as a fighter anymore, but your kids need their father.”
“Yes sir, thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Smer patted the soldier on the shoulder then moved on to another.
“Good job out there my friend, God is proud of what you’ve done for Patria!”
“God bless you Commander Smer!”
“We’ll make sure they pay for what they’ve done to you,” he assured one soldier, badly wounded and not expected to live through the night. “It’s ok, don’t try to speak.” The young soldier’s eyes said more than enough.
Smer moved on.
“Has that baby of yours been born yet?” he asked one of his wounded troops.
“Not yet sir, any day now though.”
“Well we’re sending you home. You earned the right today to go home and raise your child.”
“Thank you commander,” the soldier nodded.
“What’s the word on your family?” he asked another. “Is your son doing better in school?”
“Much better sir, he started to learn about the history of Patria. It’s a subject that interests him.”
“Very good, when you see him again tell him how you made Patrae history today!” Smer smiled.
“I will sir, thank you.”
“Prevari!” Smer called out to one of his trusted officers. “Have you finished the casualty count for your unit?”
“Yes sir, I have. 32 spears lost. The Army’s loss is God’s gain.”
“What were their names?” Smer asked, deep in thought.
Prevari read the names as Smer listened and thought about each soldier. The two leaders walked through the trenches to join the others eating dinner. Smer stood behind Gorn who led a heated discussion about Patrae military tactics.
“This back and forth is pointless!” Gorn growled. ”We make some progress and they push us back again. Generations of fighting and what do we have to show for it?” Gorn was frustrated. “We need to make a big push, and get near their homes. My batteries can launch stones right into the neighborhoods and soften them for a charge by our troops. We can make their neighborhoods battlefields and their parks cemeteries!”
“Agreed, Gorn, and we’re working on such a plan right now.” Smer walked in front of his dining troops. “What might seem like a defeat today can be used to our advantage. In the morning the Mumin will surely reinforce their position in our middle. They will strike at our weakest point in an attempt to drive their forces right into Patria. We will let their scouts find a good direction to do that.”
“You plan on giving up more ground to the Mumin army, commander?” Gorn couldn’t believe what his leader was saying.
“No, they will meet resistance from our troops, but not enough to keep them from going further into Patria.”
“We will strengthen our right and left flanks in hiding, let the Mumin Army charge past them and into Patria.”
“But those troops today will have died for nothing!” Gorn shouted.
“When most of the Mumin troops are heading to Patria,” Smer continued, “our flanks will close in behind them. They will not be able to retreat, and we will have them surrounded. We will crush their army in the morning, and begin the battery of their homes in the evening.” He turned to Gorn and added, “I would not send soldiers in to die except to further our cause.”
“He is a traitor for thinking otherwise, Smer!” Prevari yelled, jumping at Gorn to attack him.
“No Prevari!” Smer pulled the two mice apart. “Gorn hates to see Patrae blood spilled needlessly because he is a true patriot to our cause. No one will harm a true patriot in my name,” Smer scolded. He turned to the rest of the mice gathered for dinner. “Death to anyone who would harm a true patriot!”
Smer laid his food down in front of him. He remained standing and spoke to his troops.
“We are all brothers here, all fighting for the same cause. Each of us wants to push the Mumin off our land and take it back. Most of you have stories like mine—how my family lost our home generations ago to the Mumin. Since then, our families have given everything to get that land back. While it might not happen in my lifetime, I would die happy in battle knowing that one day my daughter will live on the land of my ancestors. With God’s help, we will prevail and right the wrong that was done to us. We will wipe the evil Mumin from existence!”
The Patrae soldiers cheered loudly. Smer hushed them.
“Has everyone else received their dinners?”
“Yes Smer, everyone has been served,” Prevari responded
Smer nodded in approval and as he always did, ate last.
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