The Joke

Silence, dead silence. The only noises I heard pertruded from our foot-steps engraving
their insignia's into the mud. Each mark we left could tell the story of a thousand men
only to be erased by the rain that would soon follow. Then all at once the silence was broken
by a hundred screams of hot metal. Each gun yelled, defining their existence as if to show
us they were there and they were fragments of death.

As I ran forward shooting through the smoke, the shells jumped away from my gun trying to
escape the madness. My fingers trembled each time I pulled the trigger, telling me
they were in disagreement with the orders I gave them, but ever loyal to me.
Bullets flew into my friends, each bullet
was more curious than the last. Looking deep into our tissue, our bones, our souls trying
to figure out what made us tick, what drove us forward to die.

Motors crashed beside me,
exploding into a million erratic dancers, each knowing the elegant foot steps to get beneath
our skin. At that very moment time ceased to exist for me. My eyes glazed over and the sound
was dulled out. I was alone, only my thoughts remained. They spoke louder than ever,
telling me things they've always said but knowing at this moment I would listen. It was all
a joke, the men I killed were not monsters, they were men. Men who fell for the same
practical joke I did, men who cried, men who felt loyalty, and pride. Men who felt the same
terror I was feeling. These were men who were fathers, fathers I stole from their families.

I opened my eyes one last time and looked to the closet man beside me.
As I cried and laughed at the same time I asked him if he had heard the one about me. Auch haben sie?