Letters to a Courageous Coward Part 2
February 21, 2018
Dear Glorious One,
I don't understand this. What you call 'glory'. What is it? What does it do? What is it worth and why is it worth so much? What IS it?
This is what I know about wars; in wars you fight, you kill, you die or earn scars. That's about it. Just death, scars, casualties, and a big 'Sorry' from politicians.
So what's the glory in dying. For your country, eh? Did you know that most soldiers in war don't make it home to their families or even given a resting place.
Then what's glory? Lots of people die each day, week, month, year. Do they get glory too? What if they die on accident, like a car accident, do they get glory?
Will I get glory even though I never fought? This sounds a lot like the Crusades. My tutor told me about it. Under God you stand yet you kill under him as well. Why?
The Knights of the Crusades killed because of God. Or was it because of pride? Was it because of glory? Did they please their bloodthirsty God or bloodthirsty selves?
Millions of innocents killed because of a god they didn't believe in. Seems like murder to me. Seems like injustice, seems like glory.
It seems like Child's play. You wanna be a toy soldier, one of the hundreds yet stand out. Toy soldiers are so easy to break, and even easier to knock down. Where's glory?
I still don't think I'm understanding this concept. You want glory but glory means death if not yours then someone else's. So what's the glory in death? It's not right to shoot someone and feel good about it, you'll be labeled a monster, yet if you kill someone in the color green under a red, white, and blue flag you are a hero.
What's glory? Think about this while you long for it so much that you start to think that glory can make you something. Can make you someone.
March 28, 2018
You wouldn't understand. Glory is something only for soldiers, it's what pushes us to fight toward the ending. The glory is always on the horizon rushing us forward at gun point.
Glory is not killing. It's not murder. It's the winning that counts. We're responsible for them, the murderers on the enemy field.
We fight for the defenseless, young and old. We fight for those who can't fight back against injustice. We fight for glory. The righteousness that comes with shooting an enemy comes second to none.
How can you argue that we are similar to the Crusades? In the great Ancient Rome the army was most important and the people second.
Those men took great sacrifice in order to protect the ones that could not protect themselves. Woman, children, the elderly, babes. All would have been slaughtered if not for the army.
So is it wrong to be proud and want to be a part of that? A part of an unbeatable force that protects the weak? Your argument is childish. Of course, there will be bloodshed. That is just war and is a perfect reason why we are needed to handle what the weak can't.
You know nothing of true suffering and sacrifice. So next time you write about murder learn about sacrifice, righteousness, and honor. Then you'd understand.
My first week here has been tough. There's nonstop training until the wee hours and three hours of sleep. The food is terrible here and barely tastes edible. It's probably not.
There's an endless cycle of exercise and after that is done we exercise some more. We run miles for warms ups and get yelled at for even breathing the wrong way. Many have already given up and went home. But I'll make it. I have to.
Im behind in my troop but I know we'll catch up soon. We still have nine months before the big battle and have little ones in between. We won't even get to Iran until another two months.
Punishments here are cruel. Eighty push ups for a toe out of line and you have to do it in front of everyone. I should know. It's happened twice.
But I'll keep going even if it kills me. At this rate it will.
Letters to a Courageous Coward Part 1
January 12, 2018
What's your name? I don't think you'll like me calling you soldier. It's kinda weird. Like it could be anyone, not just you. There's lots of Soldiers...
My name is Emily, but you can call me Em. I don't mind. It's only a name after all. Only a title you'll use until the end then you'll get a new one. I wonder what mine will be...
My doctor said that this would be good for me. Fun too. I think it will. Exciting even to read about what the war is really like not just its righteous or they're brave. I want to hear about the fears the overcomings.
Your suppose to write about what it's like fighting in the war. It scary, right? You must be brave. Or maybe just stupid.
What do you aim for? What are your wishes? Why do you fight? What do you get in return?
I'm suppose to write about my life as well but I don't wanna do that. I don't really like doing what I'm suppose to do. So I'll write my stories instead.
In my stories, my name is something cool. Like Serenity or Grace. I don't like those. They're normal and normal is boring. Those names are black and white and I'd much rather like a name with color.
So my name will be Anarchy, it fits me, my life, my thoughts, just right. Not black and white but a bright crimson red mixed with yellow and orange. Like fire.
Have you ever been scared of anything? I am. But not in my stories, in my stories I am fearless and naive. Because if I knew nothing then I'd have nothing to be afraid of.
I've always associated the words brave and foolish as one of the same. Courageous and naive. A fool. To rush into the unknown without a clue what to do and how to do it.
I wish I was a fool like everyone else. My parents are fools. So are my doctors, nurses, and everyone else that comes into my room. Lucky them, those ignorant fools.
Are you a fool?
Or are you brave?
Till next time,
January 30, 2018
It would be weird to call me soldier. There's hundred of soldiers but then there's me. I wanna be different than all of them. I'm going to be a hero someday.
My name is Will. Will Lance. Just call me Lance.
My first day is in a week. Finally here in the glorious army. My old man was in the army you know. Fought for years. My destiny was set the moment I was declared a boy.
'That's my boy.' He'd say, 'that's my little soldier'. He'd brag about me to his friends and look at me with pride in his forest green eyes.
Now here I am, earning my badges and making my Dad proud. I made it here after finally getting my diploma from high school. If I can get through that I can get through anything.
The bus is very packed, lots of small town boys trying to be something. But I am going to be something. I'm gonna be someone. It's going to happen someday.
Blank terrain is the training arena. I just want to get to the exciting part. Taking down enemy soldiers and being a hero, you know?
Ma would've wanted this for me too. She's probably up there cheering me on. Just like always. She was beautiful you know, pretty blue eyes and red hair like mine. She always did cheer me on, always will.
There's not much to say just yet. We haven't done much. We signed up and waited for a day or two then we packed up and headed to the bus. We've stopped a few times but not very many.
To answer your question, I'm brave. The bravest of them all. One day I'll go home to Dad and show him all my medals and awards. They'd be saying 'War Hero' and 'Saved us All'!
I just can't wait until I go home and make my father proud. I think pride is the best present any man could earn. Because that's the one thing you can't be given but has to be earned.
I won't say much in my letters to begin with. I haven't got much to say just yet. But I will, just you wait. Just wait after I've earned my glory to take home to my Dad.
In the end
Hurts more or less
Which one is this again?
I think I've lost count
Now I'll say my last words
Take my laugh breath
Take my last sigh
Don't cry, we're all born to die
In the end.
In the world of sane
Sunny and grey
The night never comes but nether does the day
The joy just won't go away
They tell me to smile and so I do
But under that I cry with no tears
There's four walls yet no doors
I use to be able to see the sky but not anymore
Here it's so dark and candy is no longer sweet
No more lullabies only fearful screams
The monsters wear white coats here
And they make me think I'm a monster myself
I guess this is what it's like to be in the world of sane.