Cognitive State of War
A young man turns soldier on the way to a war, everyday there's more gore and blood then he prepares for, still, he wakes up and makes sure he's still in one piece, while he's told to pay off the Iraqi police. When he still doesn't know if their men he can trust, but he does what he must, making the best of what he has learned, some men he has busted but others have earned some points for the day but you can't say the same guy can be trusted again, you only trust your own men.
Then some journalist asks for your time to look into some crime that will accuse a platoon that could even be mine. Yes, I may know every mans name but I say “no” just the same cuz there's nothin you can accuse them of that I don't share the blame for I rely on them and they on me, so leave us be. I won't help you snoop for some trivial scoop telling lies about a troop that saved my life yesterday.
That's the way the soldiers feel. War is surreal, but you deal with the soldiers like their your brothers and all of the others we call the civilian they too are like you, in need of protection from an insurrection we protect you from the killin, now were called the villain instead of ink from your pen, it's the blood of my men spilled through the hills of Afghanistan, hunting us some Taliban. We didn't ask for this shit, but no way will we quit, we've been through too much and fought for too long, we don't listen to the news cuz they've got it all wrong.
Some kid ran up with a bomb on his chest and blew up the rest of my platoon, just past noon, and the stench lasted miles all the while I wanted to slap the smiles off their faces, nothin replaces, a life of a friend so I'll say it again, Don't ask me if someone broke protocol then. Think of his life, his kids, his new wife and how broken they'll be when they hear nothin but bad news being sent back with me. They'll give me his back pack and a metal of honor then tell me some bullshit story to lay on her. Nothing replaces, the looks on their faces knowin their soldier ain't comin back and that we still haven't fulfilled a democratic Iraq.
So when all that's done, I clean and re-load my gun and wish I could tell her that the war has been won. Or at least worth his life, then I think of my wife, will she still love me when I come home after all I've become this wars perfect drone, a killing machine, full of hatred that's burned in, and turned our men a bit mean. We've all mistreated Iraqi men, by placing black hoods on their heads, removed their women and children, I personally beat the hell out of 8 before 10 today, and all that concerns me is will my own wife love me anyway, what will she say, or what would she do if they sent me back missing pieces, like an arm or two. Then how would I hold her as we grew older, these are the things that run through minds of a soldier.
Tags: War , Soldier , Afghanistan , Iraq , Bloodshed , Troops
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