reply to post by 27jd
I said I'd never give up my weapons many times, because the law of the land says I have every right to keep them, and that no one has a right to take
them. I mean every word, and apologize to no one.
Look. I'm American. I enlisted, spent my combat time in elite units, and volunteered three times for combat, and even voluntarily extended each of
those tours. I've seen just about every trick in the book. I've seen just about every DIRTY trick in the book.
I've used about every trick, dirty or otherwise. I've taken prisoners who were in uniform. I've run across those armed combatants who weren't in
uniform, and they weren't taken prisoner.
Call me a liar if you want, but you develop a very good sense of guilt and innocence when it comes to young men of fighting age, caught in very
compromising positions, especially when you find their concealed weapons.
Does that constitute proof? Nope. But it would be good enough for me AT THAT MOMENT in the struggle.
Boom! You feel the heat and the hot wind on the side of your face as the concussion pounds deep in your chest as you're almost knocked off your
feet. The third time this month. One brother soldier gets shredded, others are wounded and moaning, and though you normally never see anyone nearby,
THIS time you see rapid movement in the structure immediately to your right front.
You instantly open up as does everyone else. In combat slow is dead, so fast is good, and for the next few moments, fast rage rules.
Everything goes on automatic, and all movement becomes a target. If it moves, you kill it. God help any bystanders who may wander into the
engagement zone as there is no time to verify friend or foe. You actually rush forward in a frenzy to engage moving target after moving target -
mindless of any conscious thought or personal danger - shooting and killing everything that moves until there is no more movement. Movement -
reaction. Movement - reaction.
It's over.
Your conscious awareness begins to reappear. You slowly begin to take stock of your surroundings as your reason returns with your breath; your limbs
grow suddenly weak as the adrenaline evaporates, and it makes you a little sick when you see what you've done. In fact, you are shocked at the
deadly, reckless, uncontrollable burst of violence you discover you are capable of.
This happens day after day, week after week, month after month. What's it like here? We go out, kill a few of them. Then they kill a few of us.
Next day, same thing.
In war and in a war zone, there's a lot of things that happen that shouldn't happen. But they happen.
Atrocities are thrust on both sides.
I don't know where these pictures were taken. So far, I don't think anyone does.
When day after day, you see your friends being picked off, killed and maimed, your natural gentle disposition gets a bit frayed.
You guys are much better humans than me.
You can sit in peace, behind a computer screen, and make your crystal clear determinations and certain judgments over those who live in a constant
state of chaos and uncertainty.
My hats off to you.
