Thoughts!Non-ThoughtsThoughts
| Down the Barrel of a Gun[1999-02-14]He stared down the barrel of his gun, aiming in the general direction of some bushes further down in the terrain. He wasn't quite at ease with this assignment; after all, it was his former neighbours he was supposed to track down and execute. "Surgical cleanout" was the term the staff had used, but was was surgical about a uncontrolled slaughter of unarmed farmers? His stomach took a summersault, but with some effort he managed to keep down the can-food he'd eaten a few hours earlier. He was definitely not at ease with this. Sure, all had felt so fine when he got drafted: "Your country needs YOU!", "Patriots wanted!", "Do you love your country? Help defending it!" and other arguments had been used in the campaigns to recruit people to the army. And he had bought their propaganda without questioning it. Why should his own government lie to him? But now, he wasn't so sure anymore. This far, he had only killed two people, but both of them had been young boys, probably not older than fifteen. "Only two?" he thought to himself and felt disgusted. After all, he was talking about human lives. And the value of a human life couldn't really be measured in figures. Now his stomach gave up. And his knees too. Totally out of controle, he sank down to his knees and emptied his stomach. Then he threw his rifle as far as he possibly could, and began crying. Tear after tear fell down his cheeks. And for each tear, he thought of the two young boys he had shot, how each of them had been down on their knees - quite like he was right now - begging for their very lives. He just couldn't bear this burden on his conscience. Still, death was a too easy way out. He wouldn't be able to resurrect the two boys by committing suicide. But all of this were questions for another day, another day filled with pain, fear and remorse. |
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