tweedydaddy
Posts: 673
Joined: 9/1/2008 Status: offline
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If, as happened to me, In the Falklands, the guy in question was looking the other way, indeed he was, he was lining up a machine gun against the boys I had spent the last three years of my life with, I was perfectly happy to kill him. His friends too. I had no qualms about that, none whatsoever. I would not shoot any man who laid down his weapons, not even if directly ordered to, as that would be an illegtimate order and although in my opinion I was too young to be there, I was a trained professional. The moment a man surrendered and had been searched he was just another human being and was fed, watered and given such medical assistance as we had. The circumstances where a man would be subjected to deliberate harm with impunity did not exist. They were human beings. They fought hard and they fought well, but they had very poor esprit de corps, the pride we had made us endure further than seemed possible, it's just possible that it was that pride that made us care for their wounded to the same level as our own. I had been trained and schooled in the disciplined application of extreme agression, but the key word was disciplined. War is fought to win. When a contact was over, it was over and I can say that I was as quick to give first aid as I was to fight. I suffer from night terrors and it's not a good idea to play Boo games with me, but that's from things I saw years later in Africa and the middle east, none are from anything we did. I sleep very well about that. Lest anyone accuse me of Jingoism, My Dad watched black and tan irregular troops hang a man from a tree at a nearby farm as a small boy in Ireland. He recoiled from both me and my brother in Uniform and would never speak to us until we took them off. War is a vile business it turns some people into animals, but maybe some were animals to start with.
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