That last, long, ETERNAL walk down the path...  

ByteChaser2 52M
2834 posts
4/14/2006 4:15 pm

Last Read:
4/17/2006 5:11 pm

That last, long, ETERNAL walk down the path...

So, I alluded to this paragraph in the Gregg Hurwitz book I'm reading. That frightening visual of the doomed and their steadfast belief in surviving the immediate eventuality...

It struck me. Hard. Right in the middle of the chest. So hard, I had to read and re-read the same couple of paragraphs. Such an emotion that the flight attendant asked if I was ok...

I wont ruin your reading experience by announcing the title of the book. It's on bookshelves now though. If you like the murder/detective mystery genre, take a drive to the book store and pick up a copy of Greggs latest. It's worth the read...

But I digress... as oft I do. I blame the wine lol

Back to this passage.

The setting is a cult compound. Our hero is atop a building in the main quad complex, having narrowly escaped detection in his snoop and surveillance activities. (I know... heart pounding) A crowd of vacuous cult zombies - initiates into this world of psychological control and submission - has gathered in front of the "Teachers" residence... A recent escapee having returned as her programming instructed...

One of the cults "Guardians" has handed the poor woman a spade and prods the damned into the woods. The purpose is obvious... She's being lead, as cattle are, to the slaughter, heels nipped by the resident guard dogs. Her time on the earth draws to it's end...

But the look. It's always the same. That weeping look of hope. Faith that the reasoning, the begging... the screams and gnashing, the violent thrashing defiance could give hope for escape from deaths hand.

In the book, the end is what's expected. She has no hope at all of survival. She's already dug her own grave and is dead... she just doesn't realize yet the eventual outcome...

What double drop kicked me in the chest was reliving the looks I'd seen in the eyes of so many - the enemy and non-combatants alike - while in the Corps. The vacant stare of a child who just happened to be in the wrong place at the worst possible time... watching as a squad of cammo clad demons skulked up an alley, all rifles and razor sharp edges, looking to spill blood into the dusty road. That look... Seeing their own mortality and still holding onto hope...

Wondering why they decided to venture out that day at that precise time to find they'd passed control of their lives over to anonymous, green and tan colored killers.

From the earliest memories, they each recall the "monster come to get you" bedtime stories their parents, elders, priests, leaders had told of the Americans. How thirsty they are for the blood of innocents. How they creep into a bad child's bedroom at night to slit their throat...

Propaganda obviously... but so deeply ingrained into their very soul none the less. That look...

Imagine that early one morning you walk into the street, pulling a hand cart on your way to the market, and suddenly before you is the Bogey man! The hairy and fanged troll your parents warned would take your soul if you were bad... Standing in the shadow, eyes locked on you, you staring into the eternally black and circular void of the narrow end of an M-16, as it sweeps inexorably to center of your chest.

Simultaneously knowing you've seen the very last hour of your life but still filled with the faith of the damned that somehow, some way, you'll find some argument, some plea to salvage the hour and live to see just one more sunrise.

It's not true of course. Military men and women are some of the most compassionate and caring people I've ever known - bar NONE. With only a bare few rare exceptions, a Soldier, a Marine doesn't want to kill. We hate death. I've held them as they retched their meals into gutters and been comforted as I did mine... We abhor the thought of killing another. Life is far too precious.

We all have mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers... Imagine the pain a soldier feels having to kill another while images of their own families rumble about in their thoughts. It's the hardest thing to have to endure. And the pain compounded and tripled by the look in their eyes - the innocents...

They truly personify love and devotion. Wishing that they didn't have to kill. Knowing that scene will return night after night to haunt them, they yet and still persist... they continue on, obedient not to a Government that knows them only as a number in a spreadsheet but to the man in the position next to them, the one to the left and the other to the right... Save them and they save you. You get to see your son or daughter because they have your six - and you have theirs.

But that look.

digdug41 49M

4/14/2006 9:51 pm

jeez byte I disaapear for a minute and ya scaring the bejesus out of the freaky chicks that come to peep ya out, lol. sounds like an intersting read I'll have to check it out if it had you travelin at the speed of thought like that

roaming the cyber streets of blogland

ByteChaser2 52M

4/15/2006 10:53 am

You been gettin intel from a cute redhead have ya lol

Ahh it's nothing really. Just gettin it all out before it started to corode my insides is all.

And get the book "The Program". Well worth the read.

papyrina 50F
21133 posts
4/16/2006 6:56 am

happy Easter hun and i'll look out for the book

I'm a

i'm here to stay

ByteChaser2 52M

4/17/2006 5:11 pm

    Quoting papyrina:
    happy Easter hun and i'll look out for the book
Back atcha papy!

ByteChaser2 52M

4/17/2006 5:11 pm

    Quoting ShayeDK:
    Just came by to wish you and your Koi
    Happy Easter!

I and the koi wish you happy Easter back hun

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