Swear Our Creed

The systematic shaving of heads -

all lined together:

“Sir, yes Sir!”

Staff sergeant paces, licking his lips waiting to mould

minds into steel.

“If you survive training you will be a human weapon. Here, you are all equally

worthless. You will not laugh, you will not cry, you will learn by your number.”
He continues to pace:  incessantly screaming at each individual face.

Orders echoing the dormitories. 

Marching legs moving in formation trained to walk the exact same pace. One step

Two step.

Forward forward.

“This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend.

It is my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire

my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must

shoot him before he shoots me. I will.…“
Staff Sergeant stands proud in front of 20 men holding weapons.

3 smooth movements -

Assemble.

7 smooth movements -

Dissemble.

Days of hours of running, sweat pouring over exhausted flesh. Constant put downs. Could always do better.

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

The mantra continues. The lessons keep coming. Staff Sergeant slams his fist on the desk

and spits out demands, false lessons in murder.

“If you do not kill you will become dead. You must bring to life your killer instinct,

without a killer instinct you will hesitate. No-one dies without permission.”

Cover your ears with your pillow in the night to stop the little boys from being heard.

“What makes the grass grow? Blood, blood. blood!”
Keeping heaven filled with fresh souls.

The army is robotic.

They are trained indestructible killers,

they are soldiers without emotion,

soldiers without fear.

“My rifle is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I

will learn its weakness, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I

will keep my rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part

of each other. We will…”

Everything sounds easy

until in the midst of strobe lightening and

a flash of firing

you realise you shot your comrad. 

Reflecting off the windows hazing vision,

flashing chaos.

War makes the devils work easy.

No-one in training is willing to die to kill you.

Bullets and shrapnel flying past in slow motion,

and you,

start shooting before you aim.

In the midst of the ear splitting noise

It’s hard to decipher a friends death cry

from the screams of an enemy.

“Before God I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are the defenders of my country.

We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviours of my life. So be it, until victory

is America's and there is no enemy, but Peace.”