Stories about life: war and heroes

Stories and News No. 699

A military plane crashed yesterday on a care home for the mentally disabled people that is located in France, near the town of Tours.
Although this is a provisional report, we talk about one dead and four wounded among those present in the facility at the time of the accident, while the pilots seem to be saved thanks to the parachutes.
Story of contrasts wrote by the usual cynical chaos of events.
Training soldiers and fragile souls.
The former glorified and celebrated on the public parades. The latter isolated, hidden and more than ever ignored...

Mister General, may I say a word?
Could I call you sir, or I have to start by saying something proper due to your degree?
Most importantly, may I remain seated?
No, it is not a matter of lack of respect for the uniform.
And even less of an arrogant assertion of anti-militarism.
The rest of us do not have time for this.
The rest of us do not have time for common clashes.
Because we are at war.
Every day.
Always.
Yes, you got it right.
I said war.
You know it, I hope.
Since some pay your bills in the name or in view of that.
That is, we pay.
All of us.
What war am I talking about?
Simple, in its sublime nature, Mister General.
The one who earns the most sought-after scene, in the climax of the story.
Of one against many.
A hero.
I assume you also know him fully.
In the cloth as in life that lies beneath it.
Otherwise, I wonder, how does one become a General?
What enemy?
Oh, but you should use the plural.
You do not remember? I said against many.
Many of the most formidable opponents that human existence might cope.
Equipped with the most terrifying features that an adversary could show off.
Elusiveness, literal or less.
Tireless, physical or less.
And inexhaustible amount of cruelty.
Human or ... no, nothing less.
Entirely human.
In short, monsters.
Victory? No victories, Mister General.
Nevertheless, we give each other a medal at the end of every day, because we are aware that the best we can ever get is courage.
Courage to continue the fight tomorrow.
Yes, that’s what it is.
We make war, just like you.
And we also have our heroes.
Actually, we all are.
The only difference, you will admit it is not normal stuff, is that we fly ever with bare wings.
Read us like the ghost pilots without a parachute



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