This is fiction, also thinly veiled reality. The ugly world we live in today.
IMPLICATIONS OF WAR
A small village somewhere in Iraq. The trio of tired youg men sat on their dusty Humvee, eyes roving this way and that, minds willing fatigued bodies to go along. Too bad for one of them that they didn't see the determined fedayeen fighter slinking sideways towards them, hidden by a small rise of dirt. There was too much dirt and dust everywhere; after awhile, it all looked the same: people, buildings, wreckage, trash. All obscured frequently by blowing sand. The Fedayeen was cradling an RPG wrapped in dusty cloths. When he finally squirmed into position, he unwrapped his deadly cargo. Aimed it, pulled the trigger. For this, he had to raise up a bit. One of the soldiers saw him. Too late. By the time the other had heard, and swung the machine gun around, the RPG had been fired. The grenade round struck with lethal impact against the fender of the Humvee, spraying shrapnel and molten metal all around, upward, into one of the soldiers' faces - and that was the last day that young american man would see on this earth.
The cars all jockeyed for position, traveling down a main thoroughfare of a bustling midwestern city in the USA. It was rush hour, and everyone was heading home from work. Some cars had music booming, others sported flags flying from windows. Huge SUV's whipped in and out of convenience store parking lots, usually right to the gas pumps to get their fix. Customers went in and out of these places, procuring the neccessities of the day or the moment. Cigs, Beer, candy, soft drinks, chips. Then the people would rush home, breaking speed limits casually. They would arrive at their apartments, small houses, condos, townhouses, or in a few cases, large mansions. They had to get dinner, pick up the kids, take the kids somewhere else, watch the latest drama or comedy. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Soon, off to bed, only to be rudely awoken 6 or 7 hours later, to do it all again.
The small cadre of grimy terrorists sat in a cave, somewhere in Afganistan. The older VCR and camera worked well enough to record the latest promise of mass destruction delivered by their leader. America the evil would be brought down. The attacks of 9/11 were only a small prelude. Threats and bluster, on and on. Elsewhere, in a country with a strict Islamic government, a childs' doll was officially banned by the state, as an abomination of the "perverted west". The Hate America fad was in full swing.
The grocery store was busy tonight, in a medium-sized midwestern town in the US. People selected their choices from thousands of items, many promising low-calorie salvation. Carts swerved and doged one another. Mark made his way through the mess, selecting the items he needed for the coming week. Then, he made it to a checkout line. He made his check out in advance, and after a wait of approximately 8 minutes, was putting items on the conveyor to be scanned by a swift young cashier. Before long, he had his goods, and was wheeling his cart outta there (relieved to get it over with). As he got into his car, and began to battle the traffic on his way back home, he mused to himself, 'Can this be what those terrorists hate about us? Because we have so much food, and such ease in getting it?' Turning on the car radio, he heard about the latest events in the 'war on terror'. Felt a pit in his stomach. This would be a long, drawn-out affair. A lot of terrorists and Moslems and Arabs seemed bent on our destruction.
In Iraq, the young man saw a group of hated American soldiers through the window of a nearby building. They were discussing the recent news about having to stay in this miserable place for far longer than they were promised. Instead of a quick return home, they were facing extended tours of duty here. The young man would do his part to get them out of his country. And earn his place in heaven besides. He lifted up his RPG, as he had practiced so faithfully in the days before, and fired.
In the midwestern town, Mark drove his compact car home, being cut off twice by large SUV's in traffic. Dodging a bicyclist. Getting stuck behind a slowpoke. Playing his latest CD. Looking forward to dinner and TV, computer and Internet time. Wondering why the country had to be at war, and when it would ever end. Once he arived at home, he began to unload the groceries and prepare for the evening.
The President of the United States came on television that night. Mark listened awhile as Mr. President outlined the money he would need to finish the job in Iraq, and how we all needed to make sacrifices in the war on terror, that this was this generations' sacrifice, and so on. After awhile, Mark lost interest and turned the channel to something else. Sacrifice indeed, Mark thought as he munched on a snack in his comfortable living room. 'If they start another draft, now there will be a real sacrifice. The way things are going, stay tuned: there will be before it is all over with.'
Mark scanned a newspaper laying nearby, read about the Nazi filmmaker who had recently died. Wondering to himself, at what point does a society cross the line and become a fascist state. Are _we_ the bad guys? Who are the real good guys, who are the real bad guys, where does the innocence lie, or can anyone be truly innocent in this hellish world we live in. Mark felt lucky that he was in a safe place, far behind the "lines of battle". And although he realized that terrorists could bring the battle literally to his town and to his front door, he felt confident that this would not happen in the near future. But, unfortunately, this war was long from over, and he did not know what the future held in store. Anxiety would be his companion, and the companion of every American citizen, until some sort of closure could be brought to bear. And this appeared to be a long, long way off.
The young, angry arabs, moslems and assorted extremist types were busy in their training camps. Leaders were yelling encouragement, abuse, exhortations, religious assertions - we will bring down the great satan, punish the infidels. Explosions went off at busy intersections in Israel. Rocket attacks killed scores in Palestinian areas. The daily march of death went on.
An illustrated developmental history of the American military chemical and biological protective respirator for use against war agents, this work provides photographs of actual respirator specimens and several useful appendices, in addition to its en
