Soldier Daylight

A Story by Abishai100

Portrait of war-and-memoir (fictional), offering a real-world 'pronoun' for the raw-leviathan of manmade jitters (for the Ego).

A (fictional) war-journal, of the hospitality-leviathan variety.

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Friends, I was taken to the East, from the West, after moving West (American Homeland) from the East (Algeria) and settling into Boston-town eatery-enterprise and sport-cards distributions cyber-sales as a happy-Catholic US-citizen of good age/mindset, avid-fan of war video-games and general war dioramas/history from school/college/study. I was taken to the East, to the post-9/11 US-Afghan War, as a citizen-soldier, immigrant-Catholic patriot, Selfie-culture reader/pupil, and I had become an avid-fan of war-literature and cinema (e.g., Full Metal Jacket, Call of Duty). I was one of those nerdists of Earth bad-sportsmanship medicine (for leviathan).

The war 'environment' saw me as first a simple idealist, holding my US-army gun(s); of which I'd become an avid-fan of the ground-use machine-gun, which I'd be required to use for 'extra credit' shots on prowling enemy-drones/runners, representative of the dark-force of Invasion-storyboards (9/11), and this was a new millennium adverb for pronouncements of leviathan; petrol-politics turned into Israel-Palestine mezzanine human-realm banks (for the Ego!).

COMPATRIOT: This is real, and it stinks.

ME: Smoke in the fields; burn of petrol/arson; who else but good Americans, sure.

COMPATRIOT: You like aim-fire and that endurance of the war-story, pal?

ME: Sure...I grew up on video-games and comic books and endured class-novels.

COMPATRIOT: Ha, war is real, even for an Algerian-American Catholic-citizen chum?

ME: Sure...I keep a mind-count of my kills; keeps me sane; home-return for arts.

COMPATRIOT: You're going to adapt this 'ninja-life' into some Western book, eh?

ME: Sure...I shall call it Chocolate Oil: War's Pharmacy (leviathan).

COMPATRIOT: Good (thanx).

It was Hell. However, I encountered actual pockets of Heaven, for lines of sportsmanship projection(s), for the human heart. Yes, it wasn't a video-game or a comic story, but I learned of the basic robot-like behaviors of getting-through it (all!). I survived. I had one minor injury, a gun-shot near my shoulder, but I healed and got back to the killing fields (sure). We greeted some villagers while traversing the Eastern area of that war. It was my moment of Zen as a Catholic-Algerian, pre-engagement with a nasty trio of snipers in a nearby bombed-city, requiring me/compatriots to mix grenades with rapid aimed fire of the inferno-brand. I remembered the human things (for better sports).

DARINA (Mail-Order-Bride): Thanx for making me American, sweet.

ME: Post-war Romanticism, bound for my vet war-writing; with you as my muse!

DARINA: You don't remember the darkness, or choose to forget/transcend, no?

ME: Can you blame me...who likes war's doughnut (for Facebook)?

Darina has taught me how to make zesty curry-stew, and I make it now, once-month, happily, for her, with her sometimes! This is my post-war life, earned as an Algerian-American Catholic US-citizen, war-returned, enduring, remembering...and writing! This is Selfie-like (but will I get my future-son a war video-game like Call of Duty, for parent supervision 'helmets' of the hospitality-variety)?

DARINA: I got us Full Metal Jacket (Stanley Kubrick) for Halloween.

ME: Cool...I know those two horror-scenes, wife.

DARINA: The fallen-soldier suicide; the city-sniper femme-fatale poison scenes?

ME: Good summation of war's reality, wife (ok).

DARINA: I made that curry-stew to complement.

ME: Can't wait to have a son...to teach him about the faerie-tales of Super Bowls.

DARINA: Good.

STORY_EXCERPTS: "I was in that field...all for the candy-oil...we took out snipers and danced with village-kids...it was both better/worse than Vietnam, as I'd read of it at least...this was black-smoke, and I was an immigrant-citizen soldier of dawn/daylights...Western banks lines for Earthling adjective; war always leads to theory...I'd prefer to be Robin Hood...it's worth the exorcism."

ME: I don't mind gas-station jokes, pal.
READER: Your conception of the patriot 'examination-eye' was quite dark!
ME: War is realistic, sure (no?).
READER: Maybe that's human evolution (elasticity).

ME: Cool thought (Selfie-like).