“Let’s go kill some fucking Muslims.” he said, while strapping a kevlar onto his head in a dramatic Rambo-esque fashion. Up to that point, I had heard a lot of agressive testosterone charged statements but mostly concerning hajis, ragheads, towel heads, sand niggers or desert monkeys. For some reason this particular statement was more potent than the rest. Maybe because there wasn’t so much immature hatred in the name calling, but a more focused disgust and deliberate attempt to spotlight the kill and the use of Muslim to focus on the religion.
This was the very moment I realized I was not fighting the pure war that was on the news. I was not fighting a war against evil or terrorism or any single idea. I was fighting a war against people. I was fighting a war against human beings.
I realized that the war that congressmen and senators think we are fighting will never happen. Their “war against terror” exists only in their own minds, for they cannot put a face to it. To them it is a concept. But for the nineteen year old putting on his helmet, its a war against muslims. Its a war against a different culture that he doesn’t understand.
The war on paper and the war in reality are two different realms that parallel each other, yet never converge. And as long as old men plan and young men execute, they never will.