Changes of Heart

I never really thought much about death. I don’t think many of us want to deal with it. We just want to live out the happy years we have left. Dying would obviously be an obstruction to that wish. The five letter word. D. E. A. T. H. Death. Saying it gives me the chills. And I’ve seen more places ravaged by war and terror compared to any other man. I’ve seen people downright suffer from droughts and such while I could only stand by and watch them all die. I’ve seen friends taken down at any point of the day, at any point of the night. And not once did I stop to think about the possibility of my death. I never really thought much about death until now. I’m afraid my time will come sooner than expected. Maybe plans will get shuffled around by the Big Man upstairs. Will I see my parents up there? Maybe my Grandfather too? Uncles? Cousins? Aunts? A friend once told me a while back anyone was able to go out in public without the fear of getting hurt or killed or stabbed or shot. He can flash the two bills from his pocket and not expect a cent to be stolen. If you did that nowadays, you’d for sure be gunned down or knifed or mugged. Maybe he’s right about the world becoming a place of fear and destruction and travesty. But, should we just lie down and wait for the unexpected or equip ourselves and kick destiny right in the ass? I’ll do the second part and so have another couple million to fend off whatever threatens mankind’s survival. I never really thought much about death until I enlisted, until I trained into this super killer, until I first aimed and shot at a living being until I witnessed the horrors and tragedies of fighting, of human depravity, of human insanity, of war. Ever since I was a child I bragged to my mom about how I’ll one day save the world and how I’ll become the man everyone expected me to be. I wanted to help the needy, save the poor, provide safety for all. How… How can I ever do such a thing if I endanger that safety? I sound hypocritical in the sense that I’m helping the ‘cause’ through the use of violence, but I don’t want to kill others and the thing that scares me, is, what if the things I’m doing now are something God would not approve of and then punish me for? Would He hate me for killing? Or would He take the intent of the killings into consideration on my Day? Hope so. As confused as I may sound, I am fully assured that the fights we encounter and take part in will someway provide safeguard for all of humanity.

The night was warm from what he could remember on the day of days. She wore a pretty blouse. Its emerald sheen embodied the beauty of her eyes. She had wrapped her arms around the man’s waist- his arms respectively enclosing her. “Do you love me?” The woman’s voice sounded strained, maybe afraid of a disappointing reply. He looked deeply into her astounding eyes and told her he did. “Why don’t you ever tell me you do?” At this, he panicked, for he didn’t know what to say or how to answer. Why he never professed his affection verbally was a mystery to him. Since birth, he had always been distant from his emotions. You never knew if he was angry or sad or happy. You kind of had to guess his mood.

“I-I…I lo-“

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Why would you think I’m lying?”

“Because it seems like you never want to be around me.” Freeze here. Why now? Why an inquiry into his heart now? She knew his adoration for her though it was never spoken. Does he really have to say it? Say that he loves her more than the entire cosmos put together or even as much as his master?

New scene. They walked down the trail dusted with sand. Its tricky curves and windy nature played mind games on those who dared to cross. Danger written everywhere they had ever gone in this foreign land; the trail no different. Everything silent. The footsteps of the group strapped with guns echoed and the silence crawled behind. Stay alert, stay frosty. They each told themselves the exact same thing, over and over and over again to ensure readiness and preparedness. Anything and everything were your enemies out here, including the covered hills up ahead and the sun high above. And so they continued, looking for their mission objective. Hostiles surely to appear in minutes, maybe seconds. A few moments to catch a breath were a luxury that couldn’t be afforded. Stay alert, stay frosty.

Weapons held tightly close to the chest, each drew step after anxious step. They are fully aware of the potential hazards to transpire and they wait and wait until it does. Distant figures in armed vehicles rapidly approached from the dunes ahead. Four or six. Difficult to make out. It was time. Nowhere to hide. No palisades. Nothing. Just a full fledge combat about to ensue. “Brigade Infantry D! We’ll take down the gunners on top first. Sue and Rob, shoot the tires as they come closer. The rest of us will scatter. We have to use our instincts, so camouflage if necessary, but do not run away. We’re a team and will either face victory or death as one.”

Flashback. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re leaving me.”

“I have to leave to protect…“

“Don’t give me that bull crap speech about protecting.”

“But I am.”

“How? By killing others? By pulling a trigger to put a riddance to the enemies of the government? It’s like you want to be a puppet.” Argument erupted between the woman and man after news arrived regarding his acceptance into the armed forces. She doesn’t want him to go; he doesn’t want her to not let him go. A struggle for power aroused, moreover a struggle of life and death. To die for others or let others die for you? To be a puppet of the state or send them the finger? This was what the conversation was about, whether both knew it or not. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You do not.”

“I hope you die over there.”

“There’s a good chance of that happening.”

“Don’t come back. Don’t ever see me again.” Tears ran down from her already red eyes. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t accept the stress she’d receive when he comes back. She doesn’t want harm to come his way.

“I’ll come back.”

“Liar.”

Aim. Pull. Recoil. Move. Repeat until targets are eliminated. Reload when appropriate. What to do and how to do it was hammered into each head. Kill or be killed. They don’t want to die, thus fighting is the only way to prevent the miserable outcome. Within minutes, the combat concluded. Casualties: every boogey insight, two comrades wounded. It’s heart breaking. Like you’re taking over Atlas’ job, like you, the stress ball is being squeezed to death until you can’t be squeezed no more and no longer. It’s like the air replaced its contents with purely carbon monoxide and suffocates you. It’s like that feeling you get when anger blossoms with no way to escape and all there’s to do is scream at the top of your lungs. It’s like those shivers you experience after finishing a warm shower and then going out into the cold. That’s how death is, that is how a soldier feels night and day. That is how he feels insurgent after insurgent, kill after kill, explosion after explosion, refugee after refugee. Fatigue. Frustration. A sense of frigidness. Unable to understand death’s ways, but forced to embrace it.

“Good work team. Targets have been neutralized. Let’s rest at a nearby base. You deserve it.” Deserve it… Deserve it… Deserve it? Deserve it! How can I ever deserve something in turn for killing another human being? Why am I here? What am I trying to accomplish, trying to bring about? World peace? Order? Justice? Equality? Or am I simply the puppet she once said I was, only furthering the interests of white men in suits? I’ve had my fair share of regrets and pains in the army, similar to every other person here. I knew the consequences before coming and I have to accept them. If anyone were to be blamed, it would be me for believing I can change the world.

“You are destined to change the world, babe.”

“You’ve never said that to me before.”

“You know I’m proud of what you’ve done no matter what, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know why you must go.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay.”

“Had a change of heart.”

“A big one I can see.”

“They do because they think they can. Don’t forget it. As long as you follow that saying over there then you can help make the revolution the world awaits to embrace. Come back to me in one piece. I can never hate you and I’m sorry for that.”

“I love you so much and I promise I’ll come back.”

The promise he had made- what seemed an eternity ago- pushed him to go on. Questions about his presence in the foreign land still lurked in the dark, but he knew his job and what was required of him. Kill to protect. Kill one, save millions. Remember, in times of distress.

“Give a man a gun and he’ll use it. Give one to a coward and he’ll ‘misplace’ it.” Laughs roared from across the man’s table. He peered in the eyes of a person who calls himself a hero to the world: Commander Dale. And maybe he is, but it is not his place to judge. The thing that disgusted the man the most was the commander’s love affair with violence. Every word that came out of his mouth dealt with killing and you wouldn’t believe it until you heard first hand. The man saw the Commander’s nature clearly during a training exercise.

As privates, they were expected to run training courses to prove they’re ready to go overseas. The Commander watched each private go mercilessly. One by one. And each failed to accommodate his wishes by not finishing in a specific time period. After another disappointing run, he did the course himself to prove acquiring such a time was possible. And he finished in the time constraint. But during those seconds, he committed the biggest overkills known to man. This man not only shot every target in sight in the head and heart, he also got their private parts. He said those bastards deserved it. Imagine what he would actually do to a real hostile.

And he wonders for the third time today whether his destiny includes the military. It’s becoming a worrisome annoyance which could have been easily avoided. But he knew deep down inside the effect their mission will leave. Then again, he missed her famous beef stew or her slamming breakfast or her smile that glowed in the darkest times or her selfless nature towards helping the world become a better place. She believed in diplomacy. The path to true peace she nicknamed it. It’ll work between the open minded - ones who are weak and insignificant to the international community. Their existence changes nothing and the balance of power will remain untouched. Powerful nations forbid to lower themselves to the likes of a minority. But it was her idealistic approach that fascinated him and her attitude that caught his attention.

The circle above radiates in the sky covered by puffs of smoke. Grass nowhere in sight- only rubble and dirt everywhere you turned. Shots could be heard from afar, something normal to the common around here. It was too hot to be wearing a thick uniform and heavy gear, but it protects against runaway lead and shrapnel. He wishes to be at peace.

Not long after, Intel came in regarding an unidentified group of men heading this way with armed vehicles. The shots he had heard miles away were in fact shot within the base’s perimeter. Kill or be killed.

He didn’t know what happened next. The feet of men ran across his view heading westward. His vision blurred in and out as he tried to remember where he was. Sleeping bodies laid on the ground- some to the left and others to the right. Once he’d come to, the sight of a charred head brought back the child resting in his heart. He rapidly skated backwards, far from the horrors of death. With hands crawling faster than the speed of light, he began to drift away from the battle. Getting out of here was his only goal. In what direction? Not westward.

Private Russ… Private Russ… Private Russ… The call for his name became fainter and fainter until the call could be heard no more. Fear prompted him to run, calling for a retreat from the grasps of death. Honor. Valor. Manhood. They all told him to pick himself up from his disgraceful position and get back onto the battlefield. He looked at his comrades. They fell like a stack of cards in the slightest of breezes. He looked at his comrades. They panicked at the surprise attack and hurried to retrieve their weapons. He looked as they took their last gasp of O2 as if they were starving Africans. And he looked at the dauntless Commander, standing, in shock, and for the first time, in apprehension.

I never thought much about death until now as I run away from the people I once called friends. I don’t turn back and not a single drop of regret reaches my way. I run into an unfamiliar, nearby town. The people there look my way, watching a soldier, their mortal enemy, run from battle. It was what they waited for. To see a coward. They laughed and threw rocks at me, one knocking my head and another at my shoulder. I fall. They continue to laugh hysterically. I try to pick up pace, but I fall miserably yet again. Before I can come to, they all surround me, offering their assistance. Only my imagination. I want to go home.