Author: Janna
War was a complicated
thing. Obviously, nobody wanted
it to happen. But it undeniably benefited many people in many ways.
There were those who benefited economically by way of their foresight
and understanding of the markets, and not too seldom a total lack of
conscience as they ruthlessly profited off of the suffering of others.
Of course, it is easy to condemn a man who overcharges groceries
while children are starving on his doorstep, but one ought never to
forget their own role in creating this situation. Few were truly
innocent. Few could honestly claim they weren't putting their own
survival first, yes, even before a starving orphan. And the grocer,
no matter he got rich on it, at least played his part in bringing
food to the population.
War
was business. For the grocer, for the blacksmith, for the landlady,
the innkeeper, and the farmhand. Those who took it serious as an
opportunity would come out on top when the decks were reshuffled
after.
And
then, there were the soldiers. A soldier is never a 'good guy'.
Whether they are sent to kill men and women who were sent to kill
them – all of whom just pawns to a higher power –, or whether it
was demons that were to be slain for the promise of glory and,
eventually, possibly, unbelievably, peace. Soldiers were grocers,
blacksmiths and farmhands and while out there slaying demons, they
were sorely missed at home where their children cried for another
bowl of soup at night.
Morality
had to be put on hold during a war, when there was no right thing to
do. And that experience changed people. The baker who returns from
the front will never look at his work in the same way. Every loaf he
pulls out of the oven will carry the faces of those hungry children.
And yet he knows he did what he had to.
War
was a teacher. It taught a person more about themselves than they
could hope to learn in their entire lives.
It's
your second war that reveals most about who you are. And when the
third comes around – if it comes around for you – there are no
regrets left to dwell upon. You know now that all there is to fight
for is survival, and all there is to live for is another day. You
have lost your fear – not the fear of dying, only the insane could
ever lose that – but the fear of disappointing. The fear of moral
judgement.
And if you reached a
fourth, you'd start to feel as though there were two versions of
yourself, one in times of peace, and an entirely different person
during wartime.
