Killing another human being is the ultimate soul damage ~ because, at the deepest level of consciousness, all men are our brothers.
So imagine the plight of our soldiers who not only are fighting an illegal war, based on lies and deception, but close to 40% are suffering some degree of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
It is indeed dark and muddy waters and few ever escape or can erase its tragic stain. Here's a graphic must read discription of what its like. ( Courtesy of the progressive Review )
Allen L Roland
A MARINE TELLS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO KILL IRAQI CIVILIANS
[Translated by Truth Out]
http://www.truthout.org/docs_2005/110205A.shtml
JEAN-PAUL MARI, LE NOUVEL OBSERVATEUR, FRANCE - In a just-published book, Master-Sergeant Jimmy Massey tells about his mission to recruit for, then fight in, the war in Iraq.
He tells why he killed. And cracked. Jimmy Massey is 34 years old. He's originally a Texas boy, raised as a good Southern Baptist who loves squirrel hunting with his air rifle. After 12 years in the Marines, Jim is a broken man, a veteran afflicted with post-traumatic stress syndrome, a depressive hooked on his medications, haunted by the nightmare images in which he massacres innocent civilians, scenes experienced in Iraq when he was nothing but a killing machine.
Jim has cracked, has withdrawn from the service for medical reasons, and has written a raw and brutal book. . . . The army denies the facts and his former comrades have insulted, rejected, and threatened him.
An Excerpt:
JIMMY MASSEY - We had reached the military site Al-Rashid on an overcast, dark and sinister day. . . . When we stopped, I saw ten Iraqis, about 150 yards away. They were under forty years old, clean and dressed in the traditional white garment. They stayed on the side of the road waving signs and screaming anti-American slogans. . . . That's when I heard a shot pass just over our heads, from right to left. I ran into the middle of the street to see what was happening.
I had barely rejoined Schutz when my guys unloaded their weapons on the demonstrators. It only took me three seconds to take aim. I aimed my sights on the center of a demonstrator's body. I breathed in deeply and, as I exhaled, I gently opened my right eye and fired. I watched the bullets hit the demonstrator right in the middle of his chest. My Marines barked: "Come on, little girls! You wanna fight?"
I acquired a new target right away, a demonstrator on all fours who was trying to run away as fast as possible. I quickly aimed for the head; I breathed in deeply, breathed out, and I fired again. One head: boom!
Another: boom! The center of a mass in the bull's eye: boom!
Another: boom! I kept on until the moment when I saw no more movement from the demonstrators. There was no answering fire. I must have fired at least a dozen times. It all lasted no longer than two and a half minutes.
I know that they had also been shot in the back; some of them were crawling and their white clothes turned red. The M-16's 5.56 is a nasty bullet: it doesn't kill all at once. For example, it can enter the chest and come out at the knee, tearing all the internal organs on the way through.
My guys were jumping around in every direction. Taylor and Gaumont hollered: "Come back, babies!" "They don't know how to fight, those cocksuckers! Fucking cowards!" They slapped one another on the back, exchanging "Good job!," but they were frustrated because some demonstrators had succeeded in getting away.
I wanted to keep on firing, I kept telling myself: "Good God, there must be more of them." It was like eating the first spoonful of your favorite ice cream. You want more. . . .
Those demonstrators were the first people I killed. . . . That had a hell of an effect on me. What an adrenaline, rush, fuck! Fear becomes a motor. It pushes you. It had more of an impact on me than the best grass I ever smoked. It was as though all those I had ever hated, all the anger that was accumulated in me was there in that being; you feel like you're absorbing life like a cannibal.
You're really happy with yourself; you feel really powerful and everything becomes clear.
You reach nirvana, like a white luminous space. But after a few hours, you come down from nirvana and find yourself in dark waters; you swim in a pool of mud and the only way to go back to that other feeling is to kill again. . . .
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