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"Death to the Republic! Death to the Republic!" the chorus swept through the sea of red, black and green. They were hysterical and the frenzy was infectious as small pox.
My breath came in short bursts as I stood in front of the rusty T-72 tank with the other soldiers. The M16 slung across my chest weighed a ton as the sun frowned at us. Incoherent battle cries filled the air as the irate mob inched closer to us. With every step, they grew brazen and I felt the unease amongst the soldiers.
"Turn around now! Or else we'll open fire." the man with the megaphone spoke with a huge tremor in his voice. "Turn around now!"
His voice was drowned by a thousand other voices singing strange songs of war, freedom and glory. They came closer till I could see the white in their eyes and if they listened intently, they might hear my heart pounding against my chest. (WINNING CODE: 53689012)
Please go home.
"Let us go or no peace!" One of them yelled. Another picked it up and soon the whole crowd caught the song. "Let us go or no peace!"
We're not holding you back. Go and talk to those pot bellied big men seating in the capital or pray to God to send us ten nasty plagues, I thought to myself.
The commander gave us the order and we fired.
We fired cannisters of tear gas into the crowd and it parted like the Red Sea as they scampered to fill their lungs with clean air. I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
I opened my eyes and I saw things flying towards me. "Take cover!" We all crouched behind the tank as they pelted us with stones, cans and whatever projectiles they could lay their hands upon.
Please go home.
Go home because I am getting paid to do this. Go home because even if I die under this unforgiving sun the big men would give my wife some money and hold a remembrance service for me each year. Go home because you have beautiful mothers praying for you. Don't die for nothing. There are no heroes or cowards in this game, only the dead and the living. You only have rocks and sticks but I have rocks that will explode when I throw them at you and I have metal sticks that will make you drop to your knees and worship me when I point them at you. The tanks will mow you like grass and your blood will stain the brown earth. Go and die for the Gospel of Christ instead of an unreal dystopia.
The man with the megaphone was bleeding. I cast one furtive glance at the mob and I caught one of them with bulging muscles that threatened to rip his red shirt apart. He could have been one of us earning a nice salary with a nice retirement package or he could have been a wrestler, rugby player or a weight lifter with a shelf filled with medals, but here he was hurling stones at us as though we were adulterous women.
It was only a matter of minutes till we get the signal from above to contain the threat and then, I'll fill the burly man with the red shirt with bullets till he drowns in a pool of his own blood.
"Stand down! Back to base!"
We filled our truck and let them play their game till they got bored.
My breath came in short bursts as I stood in front of the rusty T-72 tank with the other soldiers. The M16 slung across my chest weighed a ton as the sun frowned at us. Incoherent battle cries filled the air as the irate mob inched closer to us. With every step, they grew brazen and I felt the unease amongst the soldiers.
"Turn around now! Or else we'll open fire." the man with the megaphone spoke with a huge tremor in his voice. "Turn around now!"
His voice was drowned by a thousand other voices singing strange songs of war, freedom and glory. They came closer till I could see the white in their eyes and if they listened intently, they might hear my heart pounding against my chest. (WINNING CODE: 53689012)
Please go home.
"Let us go or no peace!" One of them yelled. Another picked it up and soon the whole crowd caught the song. "Let us go or no peace!"
We're not holding you back. Go and talk to those pot bellied big men seating in the capital or pray to God to send us ten nasty plagues, I thought to myself.
The commander gave us the order and we fired.
We fired cannisters of tear gas into the crowd and it parted like the Red Sea as they scampered to fill their lungs with clean air. I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
I opened my eyes and I saw things flying towards me. "Take cover!" We all crouched behind the tank as they pelted us with stones, cans and whatever projectiles they could lay their hands upon.
Please go home.
Go home because I am getting paid to do this. Go home because even if I die under this unforgiving sun the big men would give my wife some money and hold a remembrance service for me each year. Go home because you have beautiful mothers praying for you. Don't die for nothing. There are no heroes or cowards in this game, only the dead and the living. You only have rocks and sticks but I have rocks that will explode when I throw them at you and I have metal sticks that will make you drop to your knees and worship me when I point them at you. The tanks will mow you like grass and your blood will stain the brown earth. Go and die for the Gospel of Christ instead of an unreal dystopia.
The man with the megaphone was bleeding. I cast one furtive glance at the mob and I caught one of them with bulging muscles that threatened to rip his red shirt apart. He could have been one of us earning a nice salary with a nice retirement package or he could have been a wrestler, rugby player or a weight lifter with a shelf filled with medals, but here he was hurling stones at us as though we were adulterous women.
It was only a matter of minutes till we get the signal from above to contain the threat and then, I'll fill the burly man with the red shirt with bullets till he drowns in a pool of his own blood.
"Stand down! Back to base!"
We filled our truck and let them play their game till they got bored.
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