All's Fair In Love and War, Part 13/?
I used to sit around after a battle and revel in the fight. It used
to be fun to grab hold of the enemy and rip him to pieces with my
bare hands. You never look your enemy in the eye, darlin'. That's the
first thing they teach you. You look them in the eye, you start to
have sympathy for them. You know why? Cuz you can relate to them. You
see the fear in their eyes, you see the sudden urge flooding through
them, the need to survive. The fear is literally dripping from
them.Fear's a strong sense...sometimes nauseating...especially when
you can smell the fear twenty miles away. You see a whole life
through a man's eyes. You see the family he left behind, the things
he's never had the chance to do...and you get caught, because you
realize that he's just like you. He's got someone waiting at home for
him. You realize he's got dreams and aspirations same as the next
guy. So you focus on something else...the nose, the lips maybe...or
even something lower than the face. But never the eyes.
I looked someone in the eye today. Had the guy by the throat, had him
three feet off the air...almost gone. Then I looked into his eyes.
God Marie, I looked...and all I could see was you. The need to come
out of this thing alive has never been so strong in me before. It's
been three months since I've seen you...three damn months! It's
funny, sitting around here, swapping war stories, and I actually feel
guilty. I can remember the look of each guy after they dropped dead
from my hands. I remember the surge of pleasure that came each time a
man fell after I pulled the trigger of a gun. And you know what? I
was sick, and I was disgusted. Disgusted in myself, mostly. What
normal human being takes pleasure in dominating over another human
and taking his life away? What right have I to play God? Dammit
Marie, I'm so confused. Suddenly, I'm looking through someone else's
eyes. Maybe yours. Maybe I'm seeing war the way you'd see it. I dunno.
Heard there's trouble down where you are. You steer clear of it,
y'here me? Don't go asking to get transfered or anything. Stay put
til this war ends an' I can come get you. Shouldn't be long now. The
Germans are running around in circles, backing themselves into a
Take care darlin',
Time away from Logan had been torture. She tried to busy herself
with her work, but it was no use. Every moment of every day she
thought of him. It had been three months now, just as his letter had
reminded her. Three months to the day. God, she still thought often
of their last moments together. It made her wonder if he heard her.
The noise was horrendous, the trucks starting, the wind blowing, and
somewhere in the middle of it all, it'd begun to rain. Marie knew
that the chances of his hearing her were slim, but she could hope.
The letters were a comfort. He sent them whenever he could. She'd
received the first about a week after he'd left, and so it continued
up until that very day. She hated thinking of him in the horrible
conditions always accompanying war. Knee high mud from the rain
soaked trenches. Long, sleepless, foodless nights spent with eyes
wide open to be sure the enemy could not pull off a surprise attack.
It made her worry all the more for his safety. She never doubted,
though, that he would return there in good time. He had promised her,
and he would keep that promise. He was different. Millions of men
made the same promises earlier on, when leaving their home, and had
failed to keep that promise. He was different. He'd keep it. She knew