How Would I React?

It has been a few moons since I posted anything. The time stresses of three jobs, family, volunteer work, and a bad case of writer’s block have left me out of the loop for a while. I’m also basically a lazy person and writing is work. Oh well, back at it. . .

I watched a war movie last night. Actually, the movie was less about battles than the psychological struggles of the participants. How does it feel to go into battle? How would we handle the fear of knowing that in the next few moments you could be dead or wounded and in great pain? Some saw it as a great game and went forward with a grin and a yell. Is that courage? Others became physically ill, some to the point they were taken out of the battle. Were they doing it on purpose to avoid a fight, or was their reaction real? Many prayed. Some huddled in fear or moved forward only when ordered to do so. Some just moved forward, hyper-alert to what was going on around them, trying to stay alive while doing their duty. I wonder which category I would be in? I don’t fear death, but I fear dying. I fear pain. I wonder how I would react. I wonder, is there a way to react that demonstrates real valor? I don’t know.

The battle progressed and the shooting started. Some died instantly. Others were cut down with wounds, some of them fatal, others just painful. The participants who didn’t die reacted differently to those around them and their own wounds. Some tried to ignore it all and move forward, almost like they were wearing blinders. Some rushed to the aid of their fellows, screaming for medical personnel. Where they trying to help, or just avoid the battle? Some fell to the ground, quivering in fear as the bullets whistled around them and the mortar shells exploded, spraying dirt and the blood of those hit to cover their prostrate bodies. Wounded men screamed in pain, over and over. Some cried for their mother or for God. Others lay in stoic silence, their faces clouded with pain. Some begged for help, others demanded that others be attended to first. A Colonel radioed to move forward while a Captain tried to explain to him that they were getting slaughtered. Again, how would I have reacted? Would I have huddled behind a clump of ground? Would I have doggedly moved forward into the hail of bullets? Would I have turned and ran? Is there a time when courage and sacrifice must be outweighed by the stupidly of a suicide assault? I don’t know.

Time passed and the battle was won. The survivors patrolled the enemy’s camp. Prisoners huddled in small groups, some crying, some defiant, others staring off into space with faces portraying unbelief. Some of the soldiers ransacked the camp, stealing whatever they could find. Others beat prisoners, venting their anger and frustration at the battle and friends who were killed. Some harassed the prisoners, belittling and trying to humble them. Still others gloated and goaded the prisoners. A few went around offering comfort and assurance to the defeated. How would I react? Would I gloat and humiliate, feeling it my right as the victor? Could I fight like the savage devil and then, at the battles end, give up the savagery and offer compassion to those who I was only moment’s ago trying to kill? Is it tough and macho to kick the defeated when I have them in my power? Is it a measure of my inner character how I react when I finally have others in my power?

Finally, after weeks, months, even years of enduring such experiences, watching friends die or go home horribly wounded, after having killed and destroyed, how would I change? Could I maintain my optimism, my faith in a loving divinity, my love for my fellow man, including the enemy? Would months of separation from loved ones justify infidelity? Could I endure the dreams, somehow purge my memory of the horror? Could I find a core of love to hold on to, or would I give way to despair, anger, or apathy? How would I change and could I control the change? How would I react? I don’t know. How would you?