Sticking here in the grassI was involved in so many wars, I even do not know which was the first one. It was only a trust which kept me on my way. Now I lie here, without any ammo and any weapon. War is a mess. I know it, I live it. Why going this way? I do not even know. It was a surveillance, only a pack of destiny. To go one step after another is nothing, but maybe too much.
I see, there is a friend. Running up to me. He wants to help me. I want to help me. But how? Sticking here in the grass. One shot was already enough.
General!? Corporal!? Sergeant!? Private!? Only a path to fame and honor. But also my way. Now jumping up with the help of my unknown friend. In war everyone is unknown, also your best friend and your greatest enemy. There is no rule. Sticking here in the grass. One shot is already enough.
Now let us stop this mess. Let us get our weapons. Push the ammo and start. Let us do another little shot, to stop another! Let us do it. Let us do it now and stop on this way our war!
Freedom in the cafeIt was Sunday. August 10th 2008. 12:48 am.
That day I met a man. He was about 1.86 tall I think. He looked somewhat taken. Perhaps he had taken too much alcohol. In spite of ignorance, my friends made fun of him. I also could not suppress a laugh. After he sat far back in the café, my friends started to ask
"This one is full. Do we want to annoy him? "
"He knows probably not tomorrow that he was here, right?"
"I think he is crazy, do not you think?"
I did not know what I should reply. Somehow, an inner voice told me that he was not drunken. His eyes revealed it. Small eyes, but large pupils. Do not ask me whether something is normal or rather abnormal. I do not know.
After a short time, I could not hear the insults of my friends anymore. I got up and went to the man. My friends looked confused and perplexed. Near the man was a chair. I took it, positioned it right for me, and sat on it.
The man did not look at me. He looked at his cup of coffee, which he had ordered a
The fate of warGrowl and the hammering of the pistons could be heard. The noise of the engine of the trucks drowned out the conversation of the soldiers.
"So boys and girls. Simple operation. We go in, clean up, and go out!" said Corporal Smith, shaking in the seat and trying to drown the noise of the engine with his language.
"Keep your weapons calmly and Jorge, do not aim friends." warned the corporal a rather small soldiers.
"Standard procedure, sir?" asked Rooney.
Private Rooney was one of the best on the team, a thoughtful young man, perhaps a bit too thoughtful. It could well happen that he forget important safety precautions. Nonetheless, Corporal Smith estimated him much, as he has good ideas in risky situations. Ideas that sometimes decide about life and death.
"Yeah, we pull it through and then it goes for me back home, boys and girls." said Corporal Smith with a smile, "You were really a great team, but now I have to dedicate more time to my family."
"Yeah, we will miss you, sir." said Roo