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was focused on his job. His heart was centred 
on his illusions. Lonely soldier in a uniform 

without a mind of his own. His officers 
received their orders from somewhere else, 

from men and women who were fighting a 
war of greed. Death was nothing more than 

a statistic which would be tabulated and 
toned down for the media. Not good to let 

the world know the actual cost of human 
life in the adventure. A tear fell from his 

eyes at the thought of how many men he 
had killed. He remembered sitting in his kitchen 

talking to his wife and making plans for 
the future. That was until somebody 

somewhere far away had determined 
the future was not his to plan. So he worked 

at his task in mind of constant wonder at 
the waste he was trained to create. His 

entire purpose in life was to kill and so he 
killed as best he could. The faces of the 

enemy reminded him of himself. Other men 
who had sat at home with their wives talking 

about their futures together. Such a waste of 
young ambition by the old men and women who 

sat comfortable in the governments of life. 
Lonely soldier surrounded by his comrades 

all of whom equally trained to hate and kill. 
Ah, but the bands would play and the magic 

of hero dust would fall upon the shoulders 
of the men at arms. How brave they would 

be in the battle with their blood splattered 
all over their clean uniforms. The soldier knew 

he fought for a cause but it was odd that 
the cause was never quite explained, save 

for speeches on freedom and destruction 
and illusions of happiness when the enemy 

were all dead. Lonely soldier was startled by 
an enemy as he cleaned his gun. The two 

men glared at one another wondering who 
would die first. Soldier and enemy came to 

a major decision. Each stripped off their clothes 
and stood naked in front of one another.