Thomas C. Hudson
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A Uniform Torn
The man in the suit, sitting at his desk, wearing fragrant cologne and making phone calls, decided that I should be here.
I am on my stomach in a ditch, in the sand, a M16 in my hand, thousands of miles away from those that to my heart are dear.
I didn't sign up for this, for me it was about defending my country, not putting my life on the line to satisfy a man's greed and envy.
This war, a war I did not create nor do I understand, a war killing the innocent. How will I live with the blood that has permanently stained my hand?
I seek and destroy because I am instructed...