Blog 14- Revision of Blog- 11- Ironic, Isn't It?

My crew and I were aboard our naval ship, when, far off on the horizon, I saw smoke. I really didn't know what it was. I thought it could have been another naval ship that had been bombed, so I took my time making my way over there, in case the attacker had stuck around. But as we grew closer I realized that it wasn't another ship, it was an island; it was an island that was on fire. But islands don't randomly catch on fire. There was a lightning storm a few days ago but any fire that it would have created would definatly have gone out by now. The thought of an island in the middle of the ocean just randomly catching on fire puzzled me so I decided to take my search further and venture onto the small island.

I reached land and there were what seemed to be inexpertly built huts, and the remains of a camp fire on the beach. But there was no one around. Perhaps they had started the fire in the jungle and were killed by it before they could run away. I heard a faint cry of, "Heave!" And then far off I head a quiet ululation. Perhaps not. Just then a dirty little boy with blond hair came running and screaming out of the jungle carrying a long stick. He had a swollen face with scratches all over. His whole body was bruised and he had a very deep stab wound in his ribs and on his head was a mess of tangled blond hair and twigs. Then another boy ran out out of the jungle, also carrying a long stick sharpened on one end, like a spear. This one had red hair which was tied back and his face was painted with something. I could visualize that he had been chasing the blond haired boy with that spear. He seemed to be very nervous and quickly placed the remains of a black cap on his head. Then some other littluns who seemed to be no older than 6 came cowering out of the jungle. They too were wearing paint, all of them were, except for the blond haired boy; it was approximately 40 against 1.

I greeted the first boy who came running out, and greeted me back very quietly. I asked if there were any adults, any grown-ups on the island. The boy shook his head no.

"We saw your smoke. What have you been doing? Having a war of something?"

The boy nodded. A war. These little boys were having a war.

"Nobody killed, I hope? Any dead bodies?"

"Only two. And they've gone."

I was shocked. Two boys killed! What insanity!

One of them littluns came up to me.

"I'm... I'm..."

The poor little boy couldn't even remember his own name! I told them that we'd take them off now, and asked how many of them there were. Of course, they didn't know how many. I asked who was the boss around there, and the first boy I'd seen said that he was. That little boy in the back with the red hair and the black cap started to walk forward to say that he was in chanrge, but then changed his mind. Perhaps he didn't want to take responsibility for what had happened there on that island. I elaborated on my disappointment in them. Those British boys should have been able to put on a better show than that! But then the boy who claimed to be the boss began sobbing, and then all the other boys followed. They all wept and cried. I turned around to give them time to pull themselves together and began thinking of what I had just heard. Boys killing each other and creating war. How horrible! How stupid! Then I caught sight of my own ship. Ya know, the one that is used for creating wars and killing people?

Ironic, isn't it?