Four?

.

.

Nearly five hours.  I... have done what I could.  Now, back on to bed.

Dreams of war... even as I sat, looking at the internet.  War used to be uglier, because it was in your face.  But, if you were in war it was just you and the enemy.  For the most part, non-combatants weren't a part of it.  Mostly.  Now?  It seems civilians are more the target than not.  And, yes, I think that is a choice.  Once the bastards realized how... convenient that was, it could never be turned around.  And, by both sides.  Don't kid yourselves...  Dresden, among many others.

Still, the wars I dream of were personal, up close, no mistakes.  Though, in the background, I realize the new ways.  Melting cities.  At once that meant something.  But given what cities have become, been allowed, forced, to become?  I... can't say I will miss them.  I won't even say they are filled with civilians, not these days.  What is in them is just various forms of monsters.  Still, I don't consider that war.  Political genocide, no more, at least of the human will form.

Some think it is God having His way.  But, to be honest, while some angels have done those things, I'm not certain that is God's will.  If so, wouldn't it have happened again?  Is there a city on earth, with over a million people in it, which isn't as bad as Sodom?  Worse?  I have doubts.  Though... and again, how many would he have needed to find, good men, to save those cities?  Just doing some calculations... but... maybe, maybe not.  Just not sure about it all.  Though, thankfully, that isn't my call, and wouldn't be my call if it were.  Unless it will be because it is, and that is His will.  Difficult to know.

But, yes, dreams of war.  Of my sort of war, warfare.  Brutal, bloody, but just and as fair as men trying to kill each other can be.  Honorable?  I... am not sure there is any such thing in that arena.  Nor the other virtues.  Though virtue can be found aside warfare, it isn't in it, it is beside it, before it, beneath it, above it, or generally around it.  Even from or through it.  But not of it?  I suspect so.  Not to disrespect those who have lived and died in there, just a truth no matter.

The things I see, in my dreams.  I'm so used to the things.  And, yet, not.  Lost limbs, disembowelment, disfigurement, and more.  Sometimes it shocks me.  Though sometimes the shock is in the complete lack of shock.  Until... it catches me.  The blood, and bone, and torn flesh, and faces... the faces of the torn men.  Some know they are dying, some wish they had but are stuck for now.

On to rest.  I'll probably do more war.  With, and against, brothers.  Odd though, how I prefer my enemies more than I prefer my own kind, but of whom war is unknown.  I prefer ally first, enemy next, then the rest.  Even if it is the rest who are fought for, in their name, or... that is how we see it, are taught to see it.  Still, it is difficult to love that which cannot, will not, defend itself, save through the blood of it's best.  War, beyond, has gotten way out of hand.  When it was swords and axes and arrows, even then scale could be too much.  But now, with bombs, bullets, missiles, and the nuke?  Crazy terrible.  You don't even have to see those you obliterate, often don't.

Anyway.  On back to bed.  Perhaps to escape these daydreams.  Or... to embrace and in doing so be rid of them.  Goodnight.