Bare feet wonder listlessly in dust tornados, creating violent storms of circumstance. The children look at me with haunted hollow eyes, as if to ask, why? I walk on, city after city, brought to its knees by man made terror. War games and weapons replace soccer championships and tag football. Dirt floor dormitories' are scattered about like land mines. I reach into my jacket pocket to reveal a piece of chocolate and a stick of bubble gum. Ironically, the child, who yesterday carried a weapon as if he were a militant force to be reckoned with, now pleads with me to hand over the sweet treats. I happily oblige.
In the minds of millions across the world, pictures of the war flash constantly on instant replay. The word soldier, used to describe the most brutal acts of humanity. Yet, without these soldiers there would likely be no such humanity. Our might is established by our ability to destroy the target, regardless of the consequence. We are trained to kill, or be killed. The rules of engagement seem to fall off the edge when a loaded M-16 is pointed at your head. During these moments, we begin to understand the dire need for peace. Torn, limb by limb, mother's and children weep over dead husbands. They, like me, are soldiers. They believe in their cause, and I believe in mine, but afterwards who will glue the pieces back together.
[pic][pic][pic]I stand hand in hand with my enemy, the woman in heavy sash, who is forbidden to show the world her face. Suddenly a bell tolls and she falls to her knees to give thanks. I am astonished at her definition of victory, and although I may not believe what she does, I know, that like me, the sight of death is heart wrenching. She stands back up after prayer, a weak smile on her face, and I help her cross the road. My mission accomplished for today.
With each effort that is put forth by individual heroes, a heart felt thank you stands to prove to the world that we are all human. The country side I was ordered to destroy...