Thursday, June 18, 2015

The Captain's medal



Staring into the hushed darkness of their barrack, sipping through the last rounds of intricately blended malt Roark spoke to Col. William in a deep thoughtful voice. This was the first time  Col. William was hearing Roark opening his heart out to someone with so delicate profundity and thoughtful genuineness

 Capt. Roark said to Col. William, “How many medals do you think you had won in your high school, Colonel Strickfield?”
“Quite a few I guess. I can’t give you exact number but I can say I had my fair share. I excelled in sports if not my academics which earned me a good reputation.” Colonel replied.

“And how many men do you think you have killed by now??”

“I don’t know Captain. It is not our job to count how many we have shot. All I do is pull the trigger at the man who is in my scope and whom I know is trying to hurt my men”

“It’s funny Colonel. When I was in high school I never won anything. Though I have always maintained and tried to convince others that I had all the potential to win, the thing is I never won. However I did participate in many activities but whenever it was time to perform like in a finale of any race my heart stopped beating and my mind would go blank with fear and I couldn’t move. But today when I shot that man across the street, I feel that this is the first time in my life I had achieved something I always longed for. Something I feel that was missing and now I feel completed.”

“What makes you say that, Captain??”

“It’s simple, Sir. When I walked to that man I just shot I did not see my enemy. I did not see a man who stepped on my land to inflict casualties. I wasn’t bound by the moral dilemma and ethical ambiguity of killing a man like many officers in my position go through on their first assignment. But rather I saw an accomplishment which delivered me a gratification I had never felt before. It is as simple as that, Sir, You see a man in that body, I see my medal”.

And in those last words the Colonel knew all that had to know.

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