Alma 57

where I got a letter from Ammoron offering to trade our prisoners of war for Antiparah.

I wrote back that we could easily take that city. We’d only trade the prisoners we held for those he held.

He declined that and we started arming to take Antiparah. But the citizens of the city found out and beat it to other cities. So we took the city without the people. Which was better anyway. Infrastructure without rebels or sycophants.

So that was the end of the twenty-eighth year.

As the new year broke we got new provisions and reinforcements—the war effort was everything in those days of the military-industrial complex. We were up to six thousand troops, plus sixty more Ammonites to add to my original elite strike forces (“The Two Thousand,” as they became known).

We were itching for a fight. Give us a city and we’ll take it down (i.e., take it back). So we targeted Cumeni. We pulled the old standby: surround the city at night, though don’t sleep, because we might get caught and massacred from all directions. We knew the Lamanite army was expecting a fresh shipment of their own provisions. When they arrived, we hijacked the shipment outside the city.

The Lamanite forces found out, but steeled themselves. No way they’d surrender just because they were starving. Meanwhile, we split the goods and sent some back to Judea, the rest to Zarahemla.

But as their bodies went into starvation mode, the Lamanites did give the city up. We won. Yay.

But then we had the problem of all these prisoners. We had to devote all our time to guarding them. Or just kill them. A tough call.

They were dogs, fought like dogs, dug their way out of our prison holes like dogs. So we had to kill them—over two thousand of them, actually. No biggie. All in a day’s work.

Those we didn’t kill we sent under armed guard down to Zarahemla. The hardest part of that was deciding whether to send our best men as guards, given the ferocity of the prisoners, or send lesser soldiers with a shoot to kill policy if any prisoner broke away.

The ones we sent (a mix) made the trek in one day. But we didn’t ask what happened on the way. We really didn’t want to know. Besides, we had our own troubles. Ammoron had sent new troops, provisions, and ill will. Fortunately the guards who came back arrived in the nick of time. We won largely because of their return.

The Two Thousand (plus Sixty) sowed the fields with carnage. No one better for promiscuous gore. Kill, baby, kill.

What I like about them, too, is that they followed every order I gave to the letter. Though their mothers seemed to get credit for every kill. (“Our moms taught us to fight and never stop fighting if we think we’re right,” etc. Which I personally think all teenagers do instinctively.)

Anyway, my helmet goes off to them and the returning guards. I’d be too dead to write this if it weren’t for them.

We beat the Lamanites at Cumeni and drove them back to Manti, though we lost a lot of men. When the fighting ended I immediately ordered that we separate the merely wounded from the dead and try to keep them alive. Among the wounded were two hundred of the Two Thousand (plus Sixty) who had collapsed from loss of blood. We splinted their limbs, stopped the bleeding, and, by God, literally, none of them died. Badly wounded for life, yes. But still.

This was as close to a miracle as we could boast of. Which we did. Yea, verily, we lost a thousand men but none of them were from the mighty Two Thousand. Legends are like balloons. Sometimes you have to keep batting them up with your hands to keep them afloat. Yea, verily, these Two Thousand were more godly than those who were killed. That’s why they live, despite the chronic and insufferable lives they will lead henceforth. Praise God for his justice and marvelous power.

This is what they and we kept saying. They are young, mind you, closeminded and stubborn, especially for God.

So after we were done bandaging the incisions and mopping up the open sores, we decided to ask Gid— captain of the guard team—what was going on with the prisoners he’d taken to Zarahemla. He said, “Well, we started, but we met the spies you’d sent to watch the Lamanite camp and they told us the camp had broken up and the army was headed for Cumeni to retake it. The prisoners heard this, got jazzed and started to mock us. So we just held our swords out and said, ‘Bring it on.’ They ran right into the blades. Stupid Lamanites. They think they can shed their lives in the cause of liberty? Oh wait …”

After a pause, he continued. “Anyway, we were able to back up the fighters at Cumeni. Needless to say, we’re here, so guess who won. Bless God. Praise God. He’s always on our side, no matter the fight.”

Well, when I heard this, I got euphoric. God really was on our side. He only lets some of us die: the less righteous ones. And those of our troops who’ve died still get some heavenly compensation. So—it’s all good.