'God I feel awful.'
Through his work, he learned the value of keeping things recorded, either in writing or through the small voice recorder he was speaking into. At first, it had just been business things, Transactions, orders, contracts and things like that. When he realized that everything made more sense when you looked at it, or heard it, twice, he started recording his thoughts. Someday, he'd end up dead and there's not much he'd leave behind. You might as well give someone your thoughts.
'I didn't sleep, and I know why. It's not a bad thing, it just feels weird, I guess. It's probably the best thing for me, really. I just....couldn't sleep. I tried, and I hope you understand.'
It's not like she'd hear this, unless he did wind up dead. He'd already made that arrangement, he'd told each and everyone of his workers that she'd get the tape. If anything, she'd probably want to understand.
'So anyways, here I am, standing on a hill looking over where I used to work. It's all gone, or at least most of it is. Fuck, I've seen some explosions in my life, but that was something else, you know" There must have been a few thousand pounds in the back of the truck, and when it hit, all I could see was fire. Everything was on fire, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. I guess all that training really did work, didn't it' Get the hell out of where you are, start looking for targets. No targets" Get off the X, start looking for bodies. You've got to get a count, you know" Those were my guys. I made them all come with me, I was supposed to be taking care of them, you know"'
He blew a long sigh and kept on standing there, just standing in the wind and staring down at the clean up crews removing chunks of concrete and filling in a massive crater. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was something else, but he stifled a shiver.
'This is why I left the Navy, you know" I got sick and tired of seeing them die and I got sick and tired of having to explain to parents, wives and kids. What the hell do you tell someone when you show up on their door with a flag and a few medals" It's bullshit, there's nothing to tell them. That's what I meant last night. I wish I could sit there and tell you it's fine, but you deserve better then that. If it comes to an end, it won't be fine. People always asked me what made us different. Why did we get to have long hair and crazy weapons" How come I could tell an Admiral to go get fucked and just walk away' Well, it's because at the end, we are special. It's not just a title. It's not that we walk into this shit, everyone knows that. It's not the fact that we can shoot straighter, go further, hit harder and come back up faster. It's that we know a few things most people don't. In the end, there's no fucking glory, there's no honor. There's broken bodies and blood. It's all over the place, you know" There's no way to make that go away, there's no way to fill that hole when you watch your friends get cut in half by an RPG. That's why I left. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I hated myself for the mistakes I thought I'd made, and really, I still do. What if I had been better" What if I had done things a different way, given different orders" Would they have lived" Who fucking knows"'
The last words, the question to himself, came out with a mixture of raw emotions. The words were almost yelled, but he was yelling at himself, yelling at the wind and the world in general. He's not home, but this place won't be any different.
'I still dream about it. I don't know if you've noticed, but I do. I wake up at night and it takes a few minutes for me to convince myself that I'm not there anymore. And then I reach over and you're there. That's what I can't tell you. I don't know why, but it's hard for me to say things like this. You're real, you know" You're safe, you're home. You won't try and kill me. You aren't a part of that world, if that makes sense. Fucking God girl, you've got to understand that it's hard for me to step out of that world. That's why I shot at that taxi driver. All I know how to do is lash out in anger or to hide everything. That's why I tell you it's fine even when I know it's not. It's not yet, at least. I said I was sorry, and I am. I don't ever want to see that pretty face wet with tears again, it tore me up something horrible. And that's why I'm here. I said I was sorry to you, and I meant it. I don't say that often, but I think I need to.'
By the sound of his voice, he was close to breaking. Funny, he was a mere hundred feet from the men who died for him, but he couldn't tell them this. That's why he had the recording device. He could tell the machine what he didn't have the courage to tell those who really needed to hear it. Maybe he'd get there soon, but as it stands, the walls came right back up when that inferno exploded around him.
'I'm sorry guys. I fucked up and again, someone else died for it. I really am, and I wish I was better. I promise I won't do it again, you've got to believe me. I didn't want any of that to happen....'
The machine cut off for a few moments, he'd dropped it on the sand and all it picked up was the surf and the wind. When he finally did pick it up again, his footsteps could be heard kicking sand back and forth under the black Nikes he always wore.
'Anyways, I just wanted you to know that. You help, you know" I haven't said sorry in too long, and I think it's about time I started. I'm heading home now, I hope I don't wake you up.'
It's a silly thing to do, recording these things, but he knew that when it was awful again, the next time he was standing in some hell hole of a country and wondering why the bullets didn't catch him, he knew he could listen to it again. No, he'd not listen to it. He'd leave it with her when he left again. That's another first, but one that forced him to smile softly as he thought over it. He's never left a trace before, but now he's going to. Not that he intends on leaving, but insurance is insurance.
Through his work, he learned the value of keeping things recorded, either in writing or through the small voice recorder he was speaking into. At first, it had just been business things, Transactions, orders, contracts and things like that. When he realized that everything made more sense when you looked at it, or heard it, twice, he started recording his thoughts. Someday, he'd end up dead and there's not much he'd leave behind. You might as well give someone your thoughts.
'I didn't sleep, and I know why. It's not a bad thing, it just feels weird, I guess. It's probably the best thing for me, really. I just....couldn't sleep. I tried, and I hope you understand.'
It's not like she'd hear this, unless he did wind up dead. He'd already made that arrangement, he'd told each and everyone of his workers that she'd get the tape. If anything, she'd probably want to understand.
'So anyways, here I am, standing on a hill looking over where I used to work. It's all gone, or at least most of it is. Fuck, I've seen some explosions in my life, but that was something else, you know" There must have been a few thousand pounds in the back of the truck, and when it hit, all I could see was fire. Everything was on fire, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. I guess all that training really did work, didn't it' Get the hell out of where you are, start looking for targets. No targets" Get off the X, start looking for bodies. You've got to get a count, you know" Those were my guys. I made them all come with me, I was supposed to be taking care of them, you know"'
He blew a long sigh and kept on standing there, just standing in the wind and staring down at the clean up crews removing chunks of concrete and filling in a massive crater. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was something else, but he stifled a shiver.
'This is why I left the Navy, you know" I got sick and tired of seeing them die and I got sick and tired of having to explain to parents, wives and kids. What the hell do you tell someone when you show up on their door with a flag and a few medals" It's bullshit, there's nothing to tell them. That's what I meant last night. I wish I could sit there and tell you it's fine, but you deserve better then that. If it comes to an end, it won't be fine. People always asked me what made us different. Why did we get to have long hair and crazy weapons" How come I could tell an Admiral to go get fucked and just walk away' Well, it's because at the end, we are special. It's not just a title. It's not that we walk into this shit, everyone knows that. It's not the fact that we can shoot straighter, go further, hit harder and come back up faster. It's that we know a few things most people don't. In the end, there's no fucking glory, there's no honor. There's broken bodies and blood. It's all over the place, you know" There's no way to make that go away, there's no way to fill that hole when you watch your friends get cut in half by an RPG. That's why I left. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I hated myself for the mistakes I thought I'd made, and really, I still do. What if I had been better" What if I had done things a different way, given different orders" Would they have lived" Who fucking knows"'
The last words, the question to himself, came out with a mixture of raw emotions. The words were almost yelled, but he was yelling at himself, yelling at the wind and the world in general. He's not home, but this place won't be any different.
'I still dream about it. I don't know if you've noticed, but I do. I wake up at night and it takes a few minutes for me to convince myself that I'm not there anymore. And then I reach over and you're there. That's what I can't tell you. I don't know why, but it's hard for me to say things like this. You're real, you know" You're safe, you're home. You won't try and kill me. You aren't a part of that world, if that makes sense. Fucking God girl, you've got to understand that it's hard for me to step out of that world. That's why I shot at that taxi driver. All I know how to do is lash out in anger or to hide everything. That's why I tell you it's fine even when I know it's not. It's not yet, at least. I said I was sorry, and I am. I don't ever want to see that pretty face wet with tears again, it tore me up something horrible. And that's why I'm here. I said I was sorry to you, and I meant it. I don't say that often, but I think I need to.'
By the sound of his voice, he was close to breaking. Funny, he was a mere hundred feet from the men who died for him, but he couldn't tell them this. That's why he had the recording device. He could tell the machine what he didn't have the courage to tell those who really needed to hear it. Maybe he'd get there soon, but as it stands, the walls came right back up when that inferno exploded around him.
'I'm sorry guys. I fucked up and again, someone else died for it. I really am, and I wish I was better. I promise I won't do it again, you've got to believe me. I didn't want any of that to happen....'
The machine cut off for a few moments, he'd dropped it on the sand and all it picked up was the surf and the wind. When he finally did pick it up again, his footsteps could be heard kicking sand back and forth under the black Nikes he always wore.
'Anyways, I just wanted you to know that. You help, you know" I haven't said sorry in too long, and I think it's about time I started. I'm heading home now, I hope I don't wake you up.'
It's a silly thing to do, recording these things, but he knew that when it was awful again, the next time he was standing in some hell hole of a country and wondering why the bullets didn't catch him, he knew he could listen to it again. No, he'd not listen to it. He'd leave it with her when he left again. That's another first, but one that forced him to smile softly as he thought over it. He's never left a trace before, but now he's going to. Not that he intends on leaving, but insurance is insurance.