The snow was blinding, a total whiteout as Barry trudged on with his heavily padded feet. He was on a mission as usual. A troop of travelers had gone missing, buried under the treacherous avalanche which had come cascading down with a relentless fury.
Barry with his highly sensitive senses to sniff out frozen bodies went about his task with great devotion. His handlers followed close behind him, every hope pinned on Barry as he dug out chunks of snow with his strong paws. The Alps resounded with his victorious howls when he succeeded.
Barry belonged to a breed of Alpine Mastiffs, who later came to be called as the St. Bernard after the St. Bernard Hospice where the injured or unfortunate travelers were brought in to be bundled up in warm clothes and to be fed steaming broth.
Barry, in this fashion had saved over forty lives. He was a cuddly pup who was brought in from a nearby farm and adopted by the St. Bernard monastery. Watching a long line of mastiffs rescuing people, he had grown to love his job.
Sporting a saddle pack of bread and a barrel of water tied to his collar, this valiant canine hero set out everyday, scouting for potential pilgrims in an ill fated accident of their carriages or infamous avalanches which came without a warning.
His gorgeous pools of eyes, a well rounded bear-like appearance and friendly demeanour appealed to children and grown ups alike.
A great furore arose one day at the hospice, that a child had been failed to be brought in from a group of rescues. The parents were frantic and inconsolable. In a trice, the mastiff rescue team set out, Barry taking the lead. Innumerable digging attempts drew up a naught.
Barry bounded ahead of them.Huffing and panting, Barry brought down his burly and robust legs, prodding and jabbing at the heavy snow, a stream of icy spray flying in all directions.
Whimpering at a possible failure to bring out a human alive, Barry yelped when he struck a tiny frozen body. The team rushed to the spot with as much speed as they could muster, but Barry had done the unimaginable.
The rescue team couldn't help but watch in awe, for, Barry had surpassed his duty and performed a deed which he wasn't familiar with or trained in. Hauling the puny toddler on his back, Barry had raced down slope and back to the hospice to the amazement of all.
But what's a hero without the sacrifice of a martyr? Barry met the razor sharp steel blade of a bayonet valiantly when he was mistaken for a wolf in the frosty blindness by a soldier he had set out to rescue.
Scarlet pools spread fast on the pristine snow and Barry lay torn and ripped in the cold. With every breath leaving his body faster than an inhale, Barry soon succumbed to an excruciating end…
Holy are the grounds stained with the blood of a hero.
(496 words excluding the title)
©️ Sangeetha Kamath
Pic Courtesy:Image by Šárka Jonášová from Pixabay
Comments
Post a Comment