Sometimes, I Wish I Was a Tank Commander

Posted on 25. Feb, 2010 by Justin Veals in Politics, Religion

Sometimes, I wish I was a tank commander. I dream of riding high on an armored beast. My machine purrs and squeaks as I roll through foreign terrain with the threat of mechanized death as my copilot. My tank is not the sleek modern machine that we see rolling through faraway deserts on the news. It is from a different age, a time of simpler prospects and world war.

I am not fighting for deluded reasons or faulty diplomacy. It is easy for me to justify every round that leaves the barrel of my iron beast. The world is in peril, and I am dealing out justice. My 75mm rounds are saving the world from fascism and hate.

In my dream, I do not see the ugly tragedy of war. I do not acknowledge the horrible loss of human life all around me. In this fantasy, war is grand. I plow through the hedgerows of Western Europe like a hero. I bring death and hell to my enemies with a battle cry of freedom and enlightenment. I do not cringe at the bloodshed. Killing my enemies is my job and my pleasure.

There is an undying American swell in my heart. With every kill, my love of country grows. I know that as I race through the hills and valleys of this foreign landscape that back home, from coast to coast, my fellow patriots are grinding the gears of war. They are building tanks and planes and ships to drive back the evil that threatens the world.

I see images of Robert Shaw riding like an Aryan god at the helm of his German machine. I am to destroy him. We will meet on some battlefield to test our wits and strength, and deep in my heart, I know I will win. My victory will send shutters through the world, and freedom will wash across the land in an insane fury. My job will done, and the world will be safe once more.

It is not the idea of killing for my country that fuels this fantasy. It is the overwhelming feeling of justice. It is the grand picture of me as a hero. Not just an Americanhero, I am acting as a savior of the world, and it gives me great pleasure to do good.

It is only a fantasy. It is only a dream. I sit alone in a darkened room and let my mind wonder over my life as a war hero. It is silly. It is childish, but sometimes I wish I was a tank commander.

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