A Winter Story
The army is a men’s world. It is the place where boys become men. Between the Christmas of the childhood and the New Year’s Eve of the maturity, they must learn to kill. Who doesn’t, is eliminated. Or eliminates himself.
The red colour of the blood, the white colour of the snow, the blue colour of the sky. Snow, fog, arms. Among them, people. Officers, caporals, recruits. Among them, feelings. And a dream, from the white pram of the childhood: the flying-girl, the moon-girl, the bride-girl…
Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, the dream becomes a nightmare, the rebellion is put down and the lesson of friendship is paid with a life.
Smiler dies because in the army there is no place for smiling. The army is not a game of power, as Pip thinks. It means rigour, discipline and hierarchy. It means having fun when you are ordered to have. It’s a place where puppets become people and people become puppets.
A story about childhood and maturity, power and friendship, dream and reality, life and death.
A story about men, told by a woman.
Alice Barb