The Trigger The Insanity
I have no idea how it must feel to pull the trigger of a gun. I have no idea how it must be knowing you are pointing a gun at a man. I have no idea how it must feel to pull that trigger and kill another human. What I do know is there is nothing natural about one man killing another man.
For one man to erase the life of another, something has gone terribly wrong. At times so wrong we might never understand why one man did it to another man. Even the man that killed another man probably cannot explain why he decided to erase the life of another. All he knows is he killed a man. That killing made him feel bad. That killing made him feel good. That killing made him feel nothing.
If he felt nothing that man has lost his humanity. That is he is no longer a full human being. He has sacrificed a part of his humanity that will never return to himself. He has surrendered the part no man can see, no man can touch, no man can know. This is a feeling. This is part of his conscience. This is a prt of a man that inherently knows what is good and what is bad. He has left his true manhood behind. He is now a man that will spend his final days on earth wearing the skin of a demon. He is no longer a man.
War is bastard. It makes no sense to anyone part from those that send others into a war. Only those that have never been to war will ago to war. Those that keep sending others to war are no longer human. They are demons playing the part of a man.
A young man lies in a wet, cold mud filled ditch. He is dying. Another man sees the injured man lying in the ditch. He watches to see if the man will move. The mans arm makes a move. The other man moves his drone towards the man in the ditch. Both are soldiers. One fights for one mans idea. The other fights for another mans idea. Both have no real idea why they fight. All they know id the game of death must be played out. ‘I will kill this man before I am killed.’ That is how the men are trained to think.
In their heads both are defenders. Both have a licence to kill another. The man flying the drone flies over the top of the man in the mud, drops a small bomb. The bombs lands on the head of the man in the ditch. 5 seconds pass and his head has become a nothing.
The man flying the drone jumps and rejoices, ‘I’ve got one he says.’
In reality he has taken the life of a mothers child. The mother lives whilst her son is blown into a million tiny pieces. His remains are eaten by wild animals. Only his bones will remain long after this filth driven war.
The man that killed the man thinks no more about his action. Distance detached him. A screen with controls allows the man to feel nothing. After all he is defended not an attacked.
Alan Forrest Smith
