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I used to get a plastic bowl shaped detergent box and use it as an helmet. Get my moms lengthy and thin pasta roller and wait infront of our door for hours playing sentry. Everybody in my family thought I was gonna become a soldier it being the family profession and all. Hell if I knew that US armed forces were training personel in Hungary with Kurdish and Turkish backgrounds in 2000 (Wov gee what a big suprise there whopping three years before the actual invasion) I would have probably been one of them. The extends we go to get that evasive green card eh? But fate took me somewhere else. Now I am looking back and thinking to myself. I still do respect the concept of comraderie a lot. Soldiers are professionals they know what they are gettin into before they sign up. Than I remembered the talks I had with my American friends back in the dorm days. I used to insult them all over the place cuz they kept sayin why should I go 8000 miles away from my country and fight for somebody elses purposes which I don't want to have anything to do with? In those years I was getting ready to fight the rebels/insurgents/terrorists/seperatists in my country as an enlisted officer as a part of my mandatory service. Than I met books, people from different cultures and slowly the words of those Americans who I blamed with cowardice started to echo in my head. They started making sense. What is so sacred about comraderie, esprit de corps when the war is not just? Nothing. Who decides if a war is just? Neo-Aristocracy. Who is Neo-Aristocracy? Only people who won't die in a war. Post a comment in response: |
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