Title: War

Author: Sierra Crane

Rating: PG

Summary: I know there is a lot of anti-war stuff on here, and that's fine with me, but I'd like to post something that is pro-war, because I am.

A/N: Flame if you're immature enough to do so. Reviews please.

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SEPTEMBER 11th, 2001

DAVID

I was driving through the streets on Manhattan that morning, snacking on a bagel and a hot coffee, eager to start my new job at the World Trade Centers. My shift began at 9:00 a.m, and I was determined not to be late, so I pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor and sped up slightly---as much as I could, safely, on such busy roads.

Then I heard it. My window was cracked open slightly, and I heard the loud humming of a plane, I looked up through my windshield to see a plane, seemingly flying directly toward the Towers! It was impossible, I tried to convince myself. But in one moment, my life, and the lives of everyone in America, I suppose, changed drastically.

The plane collided with one of the Towers. There was a loud and horrific explosion, and debris fell all over the place; paper, broken pieces of chairs---I gulped, and worse.

"What's going on?"

"That plane! It j-just hit the Tower!"

I couldn't believe my eyes. It was true. The crowd gathered, growing bigger and bigger, we watched helplessly as another plane hit the other Tower. The same explosion, the same debris falling, and more people hanging out of the windows, screaming for help.

'I can't,' I told them silently, 'I can't help you.'

So they threw themselves from the shattered windows, choosing to take their lives into their own hands. Their bodies hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood splattered, and body parts . . . I looked away in horror and disgust.

Then the fire fighters arrived. They rushed into the Towers as the innocent rushed out in complete panic, I tried to comfort them, but it was useless; a young woman clung to me desperately, screaming that her husband was inside--on the top floor. I knew there was no hope. How could anyone that far up escape?

Terrorists.

The attack was made by terrorists, which shouldn't have surprised me---or my country, I guess---but it did. I couldn't comprehend what the man on TV was saying: How could we have been attacked? Why? I looked to the Heavens: 'Oh, God Almighty, why!?'

APRIL 12th, 2002

SARAH

I had completed my AIT (Advanced Individual Training) for the Army National Guard the summer before 9/11. The summer before that I took Basic Training, at the time I was so excited to be out on my own, serving my country!

I was only seventeen during BT, and at the time of the terrorist attacks, I was eighteen. I . . . was . . . scared . . . to . . . death. I didn't want to go to war! My mom called me that afternoon, extremely anxious about me: Would they send me overseas? If so, where? And when?

"I don't know, Mom," I told her truthfully, "I don't know."

Well, now I do. In one week, I will be shipped off to Kuwait with one hundred thirty-five other soldiers that I have come to know, love, and respect. How many will die? We're all young. The youngest is barely eighteen, and the oldest is only twenty-five, we're all too young to die.

Yet, we're ready.

"We can't let them get away with us," one soldier I loved dearly said when we received our orders, "I know you're scared, guys. But this is what we signed up for."

I had been so naive when I enlisted in the Guard. Now, don't get me wrong, I would do the same thing over again! But at the time, I was sure the United States wouldn't face war anytime soon . . . especially not in only a little more than a year.

My two younger siblings, a sister and a brother, are scared too, although neither wants to admit it. Mostly by sister, I guess, since we've always been close.

"Don't worry," I try to assure her, "I'll be fine."

But will I?

JUNE 8th, 2002

FRED

I am a Drill Sergeant in Western Pennsylvania. I train young men and women to be soldiers. To fight. To kill. But, above all, to survive. And now there is a strong possibility that they will be put in a position where they have to kill, or maybe some of them will be killed.

I don't know. And I'm not supposed to care. I do not become emotionally involved with any of these kids, although secretly I pity some during our 10-mile runs or grueling obstacle courses---some people just weren't meant to be soldiers.

Nevertheless, there they were. Preparing to fight for their country, far from home, mindless of their safety, only thinking of one thing: Keeping America Safe. That's what they are in my camp for! They will protect their country whole-heartedly, they will not run---although most will fear---and they will not surrender.

How do I know? Because they are my boys. And my girls. My boys and girls that are becoming men and women little by little everyday. I see it in their eyes, none of them want to go to war, but they're all anxious to do it and get it over with.

Me? I served in the Persian Gulf a decade ago, and I had enough. Will I go this time? Well, we'll see. But one thing's for sure . . .

I, and my kids, will be ready.

NOVEMBER 23rd, 2002

NICOLE

Well, it looks like America may soon go to war. Despite our protests. Despite the loss of life war with inflict. All right, I admit it: It makes me mad as heck. Why wouldn't it? My grandfather died in Korea. I lost my father in Vietnam. And my brother was killed in the Persian Gulf. I am sick of killing!

Some say I'm immature or naive for thinking that there are other ways of solving our problems with Iraq, but I don't care what they think.

I remember 9/11, contrary to popular pro-war belief. I was sitting in my apartment in Seattle, reading a good love story while trying to recover from a cold, and then I flipped on the TV to see the second plane hit one of the Towers. I mourned, I was angry, I wanted vengeance . . .

I still want to see Osama bin Laden brought to justice. Doesn't everyone? But I truly, honestly believe there are other ways. Ways that won't cost the lives of thousands. And of civilians.

Just because I don't support war doesn't mean I'm not patriotic, even though that's what a lot of people seem to think. I am free to have my own opinion, no matter who disagrees with me! And, I admit it, sometimes war IS necessary. I get it, okay? Sure, America wouldn't be here without the Revolution and all. But that doesn't mean I have to LIKE war, right?

So that's my opinion, like it or not. If you support this war, I'm okay with that; it's a free country. If you don't, well, then there's at least two of us!

JANUARY 1st, 2003

DAVID

It's only a matter of time now before we go to war, at least, that's what they're saying anyway. It seems to me we've waited long enough! Didn't we tell Saddam Hussein to destroy those weapons long ago? But, of course, we have to give him another chance.

Am I bitter? Angry? Bloodthirsty? Maybe a little. Okay, so I'm really angry, and quite bitter. It's just that I saw a lot of people die that day over one year ago, and I don't like the idea that they died in vain, and the evil people that caused their deaths will not be brought to justice.

And, right now, the only way I can see doing that is through war. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't know. I'm not the smartest guy in the world, you know. All I know is this: We lost thousands of innocent people on 9/11, and I do NOT want to see their murderers get away with it.

JANUARY 9th, 2003

SARAH

I am stationed near the front lines in Kuwait, and I have been for quite some time now; I miss my family more and more every day, and every day, I grow more certain that I'm doing the right thing. I even met a guy here, he's a soldier obviously, named Kevin. I really like him, maybe when this war is over we'll go out sometime.

Of course, not everything has been good here. Five men and two women have been hurt, one lost her leg; and one man was killed.

Today, we're going to take down a man known to have worked with the Taliban. As always, he will be returned to his family after questioning.

LATER

"Tell that boy to back away or I'll use my gun!" I shouted angrily to our translator as a young man, perhaps in his early-20s, chased after us. We had taken the Taliban operative and now were driving away from his village, obviously angering his young friend.

The man didn't stop running. I squinted my eyes as he raised something, then I shouted: "He's got a gun!" I raised my own gun as a shot sounded. I felt something tear through my chest and I fell against the back of the truck, moaning feebly and gasping for air . . .

FEBRUARY 13th, 2003

NICOLE

I can't believe it. My baby sister, Sarah, was killed in Kuwait on January 9th. My family is devastated, and so am I. She was so young, so beautiful, she even had written us to tell us that she had met a man she hoped to go out with when the horror ended . . . but it never ended.

And now she's gone.

Does this strengthen my resolve against this war? No. Does this make me want war in order to bring Sarah's killer to justice? No. I feel the same as I did before I lost my sister; I suppose I always will.

If no war comes, then perhaps we won't keep burying our dead.

FEBRUARY 20th, 2003

FRED

I said 'good-bye' to twenty-five good soldiers today, wished them 'good luck' and told them to 'stay safe or Sergeant Freddie's gonna come whip your butts.' Gosh, if it only worked that way!

WAR: 1. Fighting with weapons between countries or parts of a country. 2. Any fight or struggle. 3. The work or science of fighting a war.

TERRORISM: The use of force and threats to frighten people into obeying completely.

Quite frankly, I think both of those definitions are complete bull. So here are mine:

WAR: Fighting, and dying, for one's country because of a strong belief that someone--or something--needs to be stopped (like Saddam Hussein).

TERRORISM: The coward's way of trying to frighten someone.

Guess what . . . it won't work.