The War Between The Divide - Chapter 3

FORCED TO STAY AND FIGHT

Jul 24, 2025

Note - This is a free-style writing. Grammar and spelling may not be up to par, since I’m trying to get in the habit of writing again.

In addition, none of these events are factually correct. This is just a fictional story that somewhat deals with a war overseas. None of these characters are real and none of these events are real either. I’ve had to change the names of locations, so this is an entirely fake world. I’ll be making it up as it goes. :)

I was fortunate enough to be able to hitchhike on my way to the Border. A black pickup truck had stopped on the side of the road; an old man, who looked like a farmer, was kind enough to give me a lift. He told me he had been picking up families throughout the day, trying to help out as much as he could despite the soaring gas prices.

“Hey fellow, where you goin’?” he asked, giving me a toothy grin.

“Can you please take me to the Border?” I asked, softly. I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to drive me that far, but it was worth a shot.

He nodded. “Sure, c’mon in.”

There was an eerie silence that I suddenly felt as soon as I entered the vehicle and sat down.

The farmer introduced himself to me, “The name’s Fadey Iwanicki. Yours?”

“It’s just Andriy,” I said, not giving him my full name.

I didn’t know whether or not I could actually trust this individual. I had to be extremely careful now, because he might’ve heard the news about my father’s death and I certainly didn’t want him to be asking me any kind of specific questions. My name is Andriy Victor Kozak. My father made well sure that in the birth certificate that I had his same middle and last surname.

As Fadey drove along the road, he stopped and picked up about six more random strangers along the way––a family with two boys and an elderly couple, who were in their late sixties. I jumped out and helped the elderly couple, assisting the old man and woman to the back of the truck. They were grateful for the assistance.

Once the pickup was full of people, I got back to the front passenger seat and Fadey turned on the radio. He was trying to find some music to calm his nerves. However, we didn’t get that comfort, since all the radio stations were talking about the bombings and the death of my father. I tried to keep my composure, since I didn’t want anyone knowing that I was the son of the assassinated Negotiator, Ihor Victor Kozak.

I couldn’t take the risk. If by chance anyone knew who I was, my name could be used to their advantage. After all, we were in a war. My father warned me many times that I could be used like a pawn on a chessboard. That was how he described it, which is why I didn’t have any friends and was mostly homeschooled all my life.

My father knew that someone might be after me––I don’t know why exactly, because I had nothing to offer anyone. I had no money, no family secrets, and there was no chance in hell I knew anything about politics.

Why did he keep me isolated from everyone? Even the world around me? I thought as I listened more to the news.

The Kingdom of Western Banemark’s international border is 7,845 miles in length and is shared with the following seven countries: the Democratic Republic of Neue Sablic, Slotaibardjiway, Gersosia, Tyrintha, Slovakia, Drakenswald, and Qaldrin. Most of these borders were inherited by the Kingdom of Western Banemark from the Crimson Syndicate after the collapse of the Golden Eagle Army. Part of the border also represents the border (ECA) European Christian Allegiance, since there’s four countries that are members of this region, which is Gersosia, Tyrintha, Qaldrin, and Drakenswald.

It is with the Democratic Republic of Neue Sablic that the Kingdom of Western Banemark shares the longest border. The Banemark/Republic border is the most treacherous and most dangerous of all. The country has a maritime border with the Green Sea, where the Kingdom of Western Banemark has an Exclusive Danger Zone, and Baltian Sea, where nothing survives… not even plant life.

And all of this information can be found with a single Voogle search, I thought.

In a matter of a few short hours, we had reached the Border. There were numerous lines, but all in all it seemed rather calm. However, as Fadey and I got a little closer to the Banemark guards, there was a scuffle and a commotion going on.

“This isn’t fair!” shouted a dark-skinned man as two Republic guards, dressed in red uniforms, pushed him away from the gate.

“Fadey, what is going on?” I whispered in his ear.

“No blacks allowed to leave Banemark,” he said. “Those are the rules. They have to stay or they can fight.”

“And why would they fight?” I asked, giving him a look. “They’re not citizens...”

“They’ll have no choice but to fight. They’ll be sent to the front lines soon enough.”

The dark-skinned man started cursing us out. “You fuckin’ whites want me to go to the front lines with no weapons, no armor, and no means to defend myself! You think I’m fuckin’ stupid to fight your war! I WANT NO PART OF IT!”

I felt kind of bad for his race and for the others, especially the women left stranded, who resembled him. They were unable to leave the Border due to the color of their skin. But I also understood that the Democratic Republic of Neue Sablic didn’t want no blacks, no Muslims, no Asians, and no illegal immigrants into their country. They have every right to defend their Borders from invaders.

They are one of the safest countries in the world and my father told me why. The Democratic Republic of Neue Sablic is a Nationalist Country, who cares deeply about their Christian traditions and are very serious about saving what could be Europe’s Last Hope––Western Civilization. Much of Europe had been invaded by Muslims and illegal immigrants, taking advantage of the wealth benefits while as a result turning much of the Christian nations into a third-world shithole.

These invaders didn’t believe in Western beliefs about freedom, democracy, women’s rights, and the founding principles of any of these Christian values. They only cared about leeching off that system, sucking it dry; they didn’t create any new opportunities nor jobs.

Millions of them barely spoke a word of English or even had a basic education. My father told me that the majority of them didn’t work a day in their lives, which was odd coming from him––a humanitarian. Many Muslims had multiple wives, who birth sixteen or twenty children at a time––eventually all of Europe will become an Islamic State. Seeing how the Muslim population was rapidly increasing every year, they’d basically overrun the place, taking full control over every country while destroying everything in its path as well. Kind of like rats.

For once, I had to agree with my father. He knew these leeches well... and he had no regrets calling certain groups of people “leeches.” My father was a kind, generous man, but he wasn’t an idiot either, giving his hard earned cash away willy-nilly. There’s a Bible verse he used to tell me, “Don’t throw your pearls to swine.”

As soon as Fadey and I walked toward the gate, a Banemark guard dressed in a blue/green uniform and with the colors of our flag, grabbed me by the arm. He yanked me away from the Border, away from escaping this Hellhole.

“You stay and fight!” he commanded as if I would actually listen to him.

I was able to turn my arm and break his hold of me. “No!”

Another guard pushed me down to the ground. “Boy, your government is telling you to pick up arms and fight. All the men will not be allowed to leave the Kingdom of Western Banemark.”

I gave him a nasty glare. “So, if a man is eighty years old, you’ll force him to fight your war? What if it’s a child, who’s ten years old?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said to me with a straight face.

“You’re fucking crazy! I don’t know how to fight. Are you going to train us? Give us weapons?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said nonchalantly.

Then, he just walked away.

“I’M NOT FIGHTING YOUR WAR!” I shouted, ramming into him.

He pointed his AK-47 at me, surprised that I’d even get up and start a fight with a man who had a loaded weapon.

Fadey stepped in between me and the Banemark soldier, “Hey kid. There’s no use. C’mon, let’s go.” He patted my shoulder and tried to get me to move aside, but I wasn’t having it.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I looked right at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Fadey lowered his head in shame and nodded. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t want you to give up hope.”

“Hope?” I said, as tears started forming in my eyes. “I already don’t have that––my father is dead!”

Fadey sighed out, rubbing his head nervously. It looked as if he was trying not to be overwhelmed with sadness. “Kid, we all lost someone today...”

He forced me around, away from the soldiers, and we were basically kicked out of the Border by our own government. Even transgendered men, who had transitioned into women, were denied access to the Border. All the Banemark officials, guards, and soldiers told them that they were men and must fight, regardless if they had their genitals or not.

What I hated the most about our government was they didn’t offer any training to us regular citizens and no arms to defend ourselves from the Democratic Republic of Neue Sablic. Our cities and towns had no defense whatsoever, so we were like sitting ducks. The Great Red Army would be here any day or minute now, and we were truly helpless. That feeling of terror and fear was at our doorstep. We were forced to fight in a war we didn’t even start; I knew that my chances of escaping the Kingdom of Western Banemark was slim to none.

I cried on Fadey’s shoulder and he patted my back gently, trying to ease some of my pain. We knew fully well we’d be dead the next day...