Killing
a Man: A Ranger Reflects
It’s
not that you think it won’t happen, but maybe you just aren’t quite
anticipating it when it does happen. I always thought I would know when the
moment was coming… like the men who stormed Normandy. They knew they were going
to kill someone that day. They knew as they were crossing the English Channel
that they were going to fire their weapon, and chances were that they would
find their mark at some point. They knew that, and were probably prepared for
that to some extent.
When
you button hook that corner, in what you assumed was a dry hole, and you see
him standing there… you don’t have time to think about it, to contemplate philosophy,
right or wrong, or is there a God? The left forearm engages, lifting the front
end of the rifle while the right hand tightens around the pistol grip and the
thumb moves to the selector switch. The eyes… the eyes move to center mass of
the target. You don’t look in his eyes and see his soul like they portray in
the movies. It is a reflex as old as mankind itself, you see a threat, and you
eliminate the threat.
The guy
is scared out of his mind though. You realize this in retrospect, but even though
he had that shitty AK-47 in his hands, he never stood a chance. He was
terrified of the situation he found himself in. From the moment he felt the
over pressure from that little strip of hydrogel, 100 mile-per-hour tape, and
triple strand detonation chord, he knew he was fucked. He maybe had time to let
the adrenaline flood his body, but not much else.
Adrenaline
affects both parties though. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, the
supply of oxygen and glucose to my muscles and brain increased, my blood
vessels and air passages dilated, and the muscles of the iris contracted to
allow my pupils to expand. Kill or be killed, right? Something like that. Human
nature.
My
pointer finger had already wrapped around the trigger. It didn’t ask permission
from my brain, it was just there. Was I really about to take a life? I know one
thing; I sure as fuck don’t have time to ponder that question. The holographic
red circle was on his chest; just above the soviet style ammunition rack he was
wearing. The intermediate phalange instinctively squeezed the trigger, the
selector switch having already been forced to the twelve o’clock position.
One
round, then the second impacted him, center mass… just as I had been trained.
An exhale of breath, an aggressive step forward, and with out even a chance to
think about the implications, a third round exited the fourteen inch barrel and
impacted the maxillary bone, just barely missing the eye ball itself.
What
the fuck? Is this the apex of the experience that can be summarized as taking a
life? I just separated a soul from it’s human body, and now I am almost on top
of the body, dumping more rounds into his chest… because that’s what I should
do? Make sure the threat is eliminated… right? Fuck, now I have to think about
the implications of my actions as I make the call that there is one enemy
killed in action, building four.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. “Though shalt not kill” floods my conscious, will I be denied at
the gates of Heaven? Will I have a seat in the great hall of Valhalla? He had a weapon, right? I
immediately suppress these thoughts; I need to continue to clear. Keep moving.
Don’t be a bitch. Millions have taken a life before you, you aren’t special,
continue to clear. If you didn’t shoot him, he would have shot you. Or maybe he
would have just stood there like a bitch, and you could have taken him down
with out taking his life. Maybe. Rangers don’t live in the world of “maybe.”
Do, or do not.
The
noise in my ear says that the building is secure, my squad leader glances at me
with a smirk. First
kill. I know that is exactly what he is thinking. The body in the
corner is lifeless. A pool of crimson surrounds him. That is my doing, like it
or not. What the fuck did you expect? That you were never going to pull the
trigger? You said you wanted this, now you have it. Fucking deal with it. He
was a bad guy after all.
Well,
the shoot house back on Hunter is never going to be the same… that much is for
sure. At least it wasn’t one of your own guys. Death is a part of life; you
didn’t do anything outside of what was natural. Man goes to war, man takes life
as needed.
I think
about that night from time to time. I don’t have nightmares about it, I just
think about it. It’s something I would rather not think about if I were being
completely honest. It is what it is though, right? Maybe I’m not as strong as
my fellow Rangers. Maybe I’m the same as them, I don’t know. It is what it is.
I guess I’ll just keep… on keeping on… I guess. If you were wondering, would I
do it again? Yeah, I probably would. I haven’t been presented with the
opportunity, but I would. I mean, I already did it once… so what’s the point in
getting all hung up about it if I have to do it again? All sins are equal in
the eyes of the Lord, right?
© 2014 The Havok Journal
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The Havok Journal welcomes re-posting of our original content as long as it is done in compliance with our Terms of Use.
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