We often condemned the Communist, the people who promote society regulations for the working class. Condemn the Russians, condemn the Chinese, condemn "government control", and condemn murder and war crimes. Unfortunately for those two countries, the masses grew to habituate in their own perfect state and became cocksure on how to use their economy. That was especially for the idea of self-defense. No, that is no different than anywhere else. Entering the military, we serve the country. When the word "serve" is heard from another person, it seemed to carry a lofty meaning to it.
I still couldn't help but wonder why I was in this war. No—why was there a war in the first place? I didn't think too deeply into it before since there was no turning back now. What was the Dvi Conflict? Thinking of the books I read, I listed a few reasons in my mind – assassination, discrimination, desiring something, technological evolution.
All in all I think that, after all of my reading, and considering the reason why I moved to the States, war was not something we should engage into so quickly, even for the image of heroism.
I picked up today's newspaper, and the front page in bold there was the following: Zyuganov not sorry for tourist attacks!
"Zyuganov?" I read into the story. He was the Chairman of the organization called The People's Wings, at fault for an attack in Great Britain, and igniting the war called the Dvi Conflict. The result of the attack caused the death of Polish politician Nadavi Szarycki and even dead Americans. One word would easily come to mind: Reckless. Either a freak accident, or a blitz raid careless about casualties. Definitely not S.W.A.T savvy.
When I read further into the article further, something else caught my attention: "Red fighter jet swooped into airspace".
I heard of something about a red fighter from the captain. It's something among popular gossip like a ghost story, or a UFO, but it felt more believable.
It felt more possible, more fearful.
When I had time off from flight simulations and maintenance rounds, I added some time on my call collect. Although, the parties I picked for those calls were few.
"Hey there!" Few or not, it was the best company – right back in Boston, home for my joviality. I leaned back in my chair, listening to the sound of a woman inside my ear.
"Aiden!" She sounded surprised to hear from me. My girlfriend Lucille Owen, I guess, was typical. When we spoke on the phone, she always talked like we were distant for too long, and there was always this underlying nervousness. Of course I haven't seen her in a long time, but it felt that something else was bothering her. A girl thing, a maternal instinct that girls develop when older, when they think of something involuntarily that leaves this bile in their stomach. I think they do this as a means to defend oneself and others.
"I have been wondering, are you afraid?" She asked me.