I once killed a man. Didn't know I killed him until I saw his body. He wasn't moving as I stood over his body, but of course he wouldn't be moving, I shot him. He looked like he was asleep, which I would have assumed if there hadn't of been two entry wounds in his neck and abdomen. I often wonder what happened to his body, who he was, if he had a family and if he believed in what he was fighting for. I question what I was fighting for. I have dreams that that person I saw lying on the ground was me. Maybe I would have been better off being the corps lying on the ground rather than the person who has to live with the knowledge that he has taken another life. Better him than me right? I'm not so sure. When you are in combat you don't give any consideration to your enemy. You just do your job, which is all and good in the moment. What happens after the moment and the smoke has cleared is where humanity lies. He is dead and I am having dreams about it and currently writing about it. Why is he not writing about my death? Was my purpose more righteous than his? Should I assume that since my rounds found him before his found me that my life is worth more than his was? Maybe, or I was just a better shot.
Pieces and Creases
TBN
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