Why is that man across the clearing pointing a gun at you?
He's barely a man, maybe not even as old as you
Why are you pointing a gun at him?
You hear the sound of bombs exploding in the distance
He must be able to hear them too
Is he as scared as you?
Did he have to go through a similar eight weeks of training as you did?
Learn how to properly wear the uniform, learn how to take orders
Learn how to salute all the men who wear shiny insignias of rank
Learn how to shoot guns and drop bombs on command?
Hunkered down behind a berm of grass and dirt
Your mind wanders to a time before you knew how to load a gun
Much less how to breathe, relax, aim, squeeze, shoot
Did the man across the clearing work on a farm before the war?
You did, and much as you wanted to leave it, now you miss it
Does he miss the farm he worked on too?
Does he he miss his friends, his family, as much as you?
He must, he absolutely must, no one could not
You were taught to think about them as "barbaric"
Was he also taught to think of you as "barbaric"?
The drone of planes flying overhead interrupt your thoughts
Momentarily
You were ordered to stand ready for the command to attack
Between the exploding bombs and low-flying planes
The noise makes it hard to hear anything
Except yourself
And your heart
Beating fast in your chest
You wonder if the man across the field
Will be able to hear the orders yelled at him
Any better than you will be able to hear yours
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