Interview with a Zharai
Good evening. We had the opportunity to sit down for an interview with
Erel Makran, Four-time Senator for the province of Kitenai, Ambassador, Zharai, and nephew of Esik Viras. Erel recently celebrated his 90th birthday, yet he somewhat remains an active voice within politics even though he retired in 1961, occasionally advising Prime Ministers on matters of diplomacy.
(Note: For the purposes of this post, "I:" is the interviewer and "E:" is the interviewed individual)
I: "Thank you for coming on."
E: "The pleasure's mine, shall we begin?"
I: "Straight to the point, huh. Anyways, as we know, you fought during the First Great War. What was it like?"
E: "Simply put: Not great. Lost a lot of good men back then, including my father... Battle off the Akarasin Archipelago, I think? I only found out two weeks later while I was on leave."
I: "I'm sorry if I caused you to remember it."
E: "No, no. It's fine. Sure, it was a nasty sort of business, but that was it: Business. We had a job to do, so we had to get on and do it."
I: "In that case, you have any stories you'd like to tell?"
E: "Oh, sure. Plenty, but I don't want to keep you."
I: "It'd mean a lot... For future generations, you know."
E: "Alright. Well, it was, some time in 1917, June or July I think. Was sitting in my dugout some sixteen kilometers northwest of Taiki. Now, for a bit of context we'd been under frequent raids for weeks at this point, just probing our defenses, see where we were at our weakest. I'd volunteered to stand watch alongside a few of my men, and we'd been having a good laugh. I forget what it was about, much as I hate to admit it. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see something, no,
someone approaching from across No Man's Land. Some poor Ardian sod had drawn a short rod and been sent out for recon, by the looks of it, but we couldn't tell if he was going to stop in a shell hole."
I: "Then what happened?"
E: "We saw him continue his approach, presumably to get a better look at us. Then a gunshot rang out. I had shot him square in the chest without even thinking. He staggered forwards maybe a foot or two, slowly as he clutched the now gaping wound before collapsing. Every so often, I get to thinking about the family he might've had, never to be seen by him again and of how, if he'd simply turned away, he might've been able to return to his lines unharmed."
I: "So you regret it then?"
E: "Oh, yes. Most definitely. Think of it like this: He'd been coming from his own lines into our lines,
and he was wearing his uniform. Didn't even stray, so I, naturally, shot him to protect my own lads. Now, I feel very sorry for 'im; he was only a kid, y'know. I'm so very sorry that I did shoot him, as it happens."
I: "How- How many people do you think you
did kill during the war?"
E: "More than my fair share in a lifetime. At least twenty, probably more that I can't remember. At least... At least I can say I'm still 'ere. *laughter* Still alive, I hope."
I: "Another question, if I may?"
E: "Go ahead, I got plenty of time."
I: "Would you say it was worth it? The war?"
E: "Oh, no. If we'd known the Ardian state would've collapsed in a few more years, we would've just waited and peacefully reunified with our brothers in the west."
I: "I mean in terms of the cost, was it worth it?"
E: "Definitely not. In general, war's something which should be avoided at all costs. Was it necessary from the viewpoint of the time? Sure, after all, we didn't know the future. Can't read the writing on the wall until it's been completed. But let me tell you, if I were called up again, even if I were getting younger, I'd never go. Not me. Never again."
I: "One last question: What are your thoughts on the conflict over in Rusan?"
E: "It was inevitable from the moment ol' Ikir seized power back in '41, if we're being completely honest. Completely unnecessary for both sides to be fighting when negotiations would've worked much better. I don't doubt now, that once the war
is won, which lets be honest it will at this rate, there's gonna be deep scars on the island that won't heal for at least thirty, maybe forty years."
I: "Thank you for your time."
(OOC Note: This post is set on the 9th of January, 1971 and is
not a present event)