The Preface & Priority

It seems rather silly to suggest that I must warn you that you may find some of the following monologue to be offensive. Without a doubt, those who have suffered the most wicked and cruel of human crimes will read some of the passage which follows and be instantly outraged by a flood of horrible memories and fear. And, honestly, even if you have been lucky in your life, if you do not find the hint of the implication here somewhat disturbing then perhaps you should check yourself.

Even with that stated warning, it is important to note that I do not apologize for what follows. I’m just reminding the reader that these words represent thoughts and dreams and I can’t offer any regret for these kinds of things. Thoughts and dreams are not mistakes and have no inherent power to be dishonest. Thoughts and dreams can’t be bought and they are always true even when foolish.

My thoughts and dreams are connected but I consider them very different from each other.

Conscious thoughts are dangerous. I am aware that thoughts can be the ultimate weapons. While not inherently dishonest, as I’ve said, thoughts can be fashioned by man into dishonest and unreasonable behavior. It comes to my mind that when thoughts inevitably turn to “What’s in it for me?”, focusing as they do on the selfish interests of man, that they inspire the most dishonest of action.

A man, left to his own thoughts, incapable of or refusing to reign in his thoughts, will naturally turn inward away from the family of mankind and will do the most horrible of things.

After centuries of trial and error in the study of human behavior, we may have learned that laws are necessary to bring order from the chaos. The danger of one man’s thoughts is possibly why our society encourages self-discipline.

That said, thoughts and dreams should be protected, in my opinion. If I were king for a day, the thoughts and dreams of every person would be a constitutional right. I would defend thoughts and dreams with a passion only witnessed in the fiercest of NRA members. Yes, you can only pry my thoughts and dreams from my cold, dead body.

Whether and how I act on those thoughts and dreams are different matters entirely.

As opposed to thoughts that must be constantly checked, my dreams are a particularly unfettered joy of life, a much better experience than going to the movies. My dreams are vivid, full of color, eerily beautiful music, new languages and the oddest of people doing the weirdest things. My dreams match the best efforts of Fellini and Disney combined.

My dreams do not threaten anyone else but can be quite internally painful. Often, my dreams wrench me from a dark and unreal slumber that warns of near and plausible peril, racing me back into the screaming sunlight and a blunt uneven awareness where all fears, however possible, suddenly, thankfully, seem a bit more distant than they did the day before.

You see, most importantly, my dreams are helpful to me. My thoughts may be a series of endless, open-ended questions, never reaching conclusion or answer. But even my most disturbing and offensive dreams have an unrestrained calming effect, smoothing over my internal hard edges, bringing some needed balance into my world that I simply can’t get any other way.

My dreams force me to question my thoughts in a mode that I can’t recreate when awake.

I recently suffered through the dream-story which follows:

MY friends call me “Buck” but my Lieutenant calls me Corporal. Understanding the natural order in the Army, I am not upset with the way the Lieutenant maintains his distance from his men. We do what we’re told and he’s the one that has to tell us. He can’t be our buddy, calling us by our first name and all, if he’s got to do that all the time.

That makes sense to me.

And I do what I’m told and I’m pretty darn good at that. I think the Lieutenant likes it when I go running off in any direction he orders at any given time to do whatever little chore he may have thought necessary without any complaining from me. And I like telling him that whatever he wanted done is done.

I think sometimes he’s even a bit surprised by how we all do that so easily. Maybe in his world or the world of some other higher ups, folks wouldn’t act like we do. Maybe others would question it all a bit more. But me and the guys know our role in life and will laugh in the quiet times, recalling the concerned look on his face when he gives those crazy orders, after we all yell “Yes, sir!” and then run off into the woods like wild men.

I think part of the fact that we laugh so much is because we know we are completely safe. We aren’t a part of one of those companies where the commanding officer really knows how to start some shit. Our good old Lieutenant is as thick as they come regarding maneuvers and we are sure he will keep us out of trouble. We are extremely pleased to go running off in the wrong direction any time he suggests it. In fact, as is often noted by the guys around the campfire at night, we’ll probably serve the entire campaign without ever seeing any real fighting thanks to him.

Being just a corporal serving with the National Army, working for a thick-headed lieutenant, I think it’s odd that my duties are constant. It’s odd to me because, honestly, I spend a whole bunch of time not doing squat while I’m so busy. I can’t really put my finger on it but at some point that fact started rubbing me sort of raw. It was during one of the quiet times, a definite lull in the action, when I decided to take advantage of the respite, put my poor brain to some use and started reading a good book.

This book, I don’t know or can’t remember where I got it, but it was written by an old fellow who was there when this whole mess started. He knew a lot of the other old guys at the time, had met the folks who made the speeches and who signed the papers and what not, and was not afraid for some reason to tell the story as he saw it.

I thought it was significant that he didn’t rely on a lot of hard dates or tales of what happened after it all went down. Those things always seem so pointless to me, anyway. I guess he expected we, the readers, must already know when it all moved along. The whole theme of his story was what happened before, how things came to be, what was going through everyone’s mind before it became real and I found all of that incredibly interesting.

I read that there was a point in time when it seemed on the outside like everyone was unsure of what to do. They really didn’t know how it would all turn out. And in this story there were folks who, well, they really didn’t care. Some of these guys just wanted to do something and others didn’t want to do anything and it was all very confusing. But, stuck somewhere in the middle of this pack or maybe on the edge, depending on how you look at it, I suppose, there were these really pissed off guys who definitely wanted to start some shit and they knew how to go about it.

Oh, and then there were these long debates, lots and lots of argument about it all. As it was told, these old guys were apparently prone to complaining about everything and would definitely not make good soldiers, in my opinion. If our company put up with that kind of endless squabble, there would be hell to pay, no doubt.

But soon enough, the story went, these loud pissed off fellows got everybody in line and suddenly declarations came together and everybody was signing their name to it all. The old guy who wrote the story sort of made fun of why this guy or that guy actually committed to the program but it was amazing to me how these leader guys, sometimes by hook or crook, pushed all that confusion away. And, I have to admit, I laughed to myself thinking that it was a damn good thing our old Lieutenant wasn’t there at that time since we’d probably still be running around in circles wondering what to do if he had been.

But, let me tell you, it was right at that time that I was jolted back to reality without warning. It was then that I heard a gunshot as I was sitting there behind a little mound of dirt reading that book and laughing to myself. It was then that our unit came face to face with the enemy for the first time.

I remember I hastily dropped my book and instinctively strapped my helmet to my head. Curiosity overcame my fear as I crawled slowly up the side of my little mound of dirt to look in the direction of the echoing gunshot. Peering over the mound, to my surprise I saw a small gaggle of the enemy emerge loudly from the trees into a grassy clearing a few hundred feet in front of me. A group of three men and two women, clearly not members of the National Army as they were all dressed shabbily, stopped running to catch their breath and it seemed like they were urgently looking for shelter or a quick way out of their troubles. I could see they were all armed so I slid as quietly as I could back down my dirt mound to retrieve my rifle.

Breaking the delicate silence which I suddenly yearned for, I heard the Lieutenant call out in a high voice from a distance somewhere behind my position. “Corporal Jack to the left! Corporal Downs to the right! Corporal Buck to the center!”

Christ! I clenched my teeth and shook my head in disbelief as I inched my way back up the dirt mound. That fool Lieutenant wanted me in the center and for once I couldn’t tell him that, by God, I was already there.

Once I was back up the mound, I could see a determined Downsie in the right spot and Jacks gave me a good thumbs-up to the left. That was such a sight! Through all my travels, Jacks and Downsie had always been there for me and this day was no different in that respect. I could always count on those two buddies, I thought. And, gee whiz, in spite of the fact that my own squad was nowhere to be seen, by some lucky coincidence we had the enemy effectively surrounded. I couldn’t have drawn it up any better if I’d tried. Luck was with me that day, indeed.

Just when I thought this was surely a lucky event, I turned and saw the black eyes of one of the enemy men in the grassy field and he looked straight back at me with explosive surprise and fear. Time froze for a split second as blood and nerves surged in anticipation while everyone realized what kind of dark situation we had all fallen into and then, just as quick, all hell broke loose.

I raised my rifle and fired as quickly as I could, not seeing an inch beyond the smoke and flame that shot out of it. According to what I heard, Downsie and Jacks did the same. I couldn’t see anything but apparently one or several had hit the mark as our firing field went quickly silent.

When the smoke had cleared, we cautiously closed in on the field to find out what we had done. By the time Jacks, Downsie and I converged, the enemy men had scampered away, presumably fleeing into the woods where we never would find them. One of the enemy ladies lay dead and still bleeding on a large rock, at least one bullet having rudely pierced her skull. The other enemy gal was on the ground, unharmed but curled up with her arms around her knees, sobbing uncontrollably without making a sound as if the air had completely escaped her lungs.

Jacks, Downsie and I calmly compared notes for a moment, wondering which of us had actually made the shot on the dead enemy girl but we couldn’t say for sure. We agreed it had all happened too fast for our recollection. We accepted that we would each take a third of the credit for the kill.

Well, eventually the other boys showed up to inspect the damage and the live enemy girl was dragged up and taken as prisoner. Once satisfied there was nothing left to be accomplished at that spot, we all then retreated to camp where, as the evening sun began to set, the hard news was relayed to our anxious Lieutenant.

Nobody could say what would be done with this enemy girl and that unnerved everyone a little bit. One boy said he tried to give her some water but she refused it. She just laid there by the campfire, tied up and curled up and silently crying.

I settled down and relaxed for a moment. In my mind, I was sure the news was at that time getting back to headquarters where a rational decision would be made. I was sure all the bigwigs would figure out what to do. I hated to just wait like that, not knowing what order to hope for and I could tell that lots of things were going through everybody’s mind as they tried to determine what it was they should or could do to make the situation better. I then realized that in the confusion of the moment I had left my book back behind the dirt mound. But, more importantly, I had the one gnawing fear that haunts all military men that if too much time elapsed during this determination process then the chance of a poor decision was highly likely.

Then I gladly noticed a few of the boys had gathered around the Lieutenant and I expected the word had come down quicker than I thought. So, hoping for the best, I meandered over next to them to listen to the result.

When I closed in with the meeting, I saw that the Lieutenant’s face had that peculiar quality we had all laughed about on previous lighter occasions. Here, I thought, was a guy about to tell us something stupid and he knew it.

At first, he tried to cover with the suggestion that we should immediately go prancing off into the night woods in search of the fleeing enemy men. I say again, he tried this at first but he did not really try to convince us. For once, I presume, he actually observed the astonishment on our faces when he suggested this particularly stupid idea and immediately concluded that such action would be better put off until the light of day.

Waving that foolishness off quickly, he jumped right into the real matter that faced us regarding the enemy girl. He said something fast and unintelligible to my ears but something that everyone else around me seemed to hear and register. I quietly asked the boy standing next to me what was said but I caught a glimpse of the Lieutenant’s face again and realized that whatever was said was not to be repeated and I suddenly feared that I didn’t really want to know.

I could feel that the group now standing around the Lieutenant was growing in a common ugly purpose, lighted by a campfire that now burned brighter than before, feeding off his dreamlike orders and preparing for something far more wicked than running madly off into an illusory woods.

Then I heard him say, clearly and without hesitation, presumably to answer my question, “There will be no prisoners taken.”

In somewhat of a shock at such an icy realization, I pushed through the crowd around the Lieutenant and faced him.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Exactly what I said,” he replied slowly.

“You can’t be serious!” I said excitedly.

“Corporal Buck,” he stated firmly, “do not question my orders.”

I could not see the boys standing behind me but I witnessed the Lieutenant’s beady little eyes dancing around the group and I could tell nobody was willing to defend my insubordination. I concluded they were all in lock-step with him.

Wondering how I might change the mood, I smiled slyly and approached him carefully from a different angle.

“Lieutenant, have you read this book, called The Preface and Priority of such and such and such?” the words of my inquiry trailing off into a terrible, mumbling nothingness.

“Yes, of course” he replied. He corrected me by adding, “The actual title of that book is The Preface and Priority of such and such and such, and I’ve read it many times.”

Confounding me for a second, I shook my head clear as even his description of the title of this work was blurred by the blood and fear now pumping loudly in my ears.

I spoke as clearly as I could muster, “Well, don’t you think that maybe if some of us have an objection to your order that we should voice that objection, sir? Or, do you think, the lessons in our history suggest we should just keep our opinions to ourselves?”

He grimly stated again, “My order stands, Corporal Buck, and if you recall, it is your duty to obey my order.”

“Yes, sir,” I responded, my head spinning with confusion. “But, sir, isn’t our duty to free ourselves from the threat posed by our enemy? And isn’t this enemy girl eliminated as any further threat to our group? What purpose would we serve now by killing her?”

Agitated and angry, he shouted at me, “We do not take prisoners, Corporal Buck!”

Before I could utter another word, I felt Downsie grab me by the shoulder and pull me back.

“No more worries, Lieutenant” said Downsie. “She’ll be dead by morning.”

“And,” added Jacks with a menacing grumble, “we’ll not be finished with her until then.”

I turned and looked at the faces of my crew, Jacks and Downsie and all the other boys. I realized there was no turning them back. They were determined and they were sure of what they were about to do.

They all quickly faded into the dark and I felt as lost as I’ve ever felt. I realized I was stranded in a surreal wilderness with men who outwardly seemed somewhat normal and dependable, only willing to do what they were told up until now, but who had quickly taken the liberty to cook up the most evil thoughts all afternoon and then jump at the first chance to act on them.

Suddenly, with no other recourse, I shamefully pondered how they would actually go about it. I wondered how they would position her. Would they bend her over a rock or some structure or would they tie her up, arms and legs flailed out? Would they really enjoy sharing another person’s ravaged body among themselves, unthinkingly culminating their most violent desires? Would they force everyone, even me, to join in? God forbid, if I did, would I find some dreadful enjoyment in it myself?

The thought disgusted me, intrigued me and made me ill all at the same time.

As the evening descended and the light of the burning campfire pin-wheeled into even further darkness, I walked slowly out of those woods and wondered if this is what all men are made of. I could convince myself that all men are not rapists or murderers. Clearly and thankfully, that’s just not the case. There are brave men, cautious men and really pissed off men but not all of them act in such a despicable way. But maybe, I feared, there’s a bit of rapist and murderer hiding in all men just waiting for the order to release.

Then I screamed and screamed and screamed.

And then, I woke up.

MEB