This is a guest post by my roommate Zack Latham. Zack is both well-read and well-spoken, qualities which serve him well as a writer of fiction. You may remember him as Lionel Worthington, star of the Campus Safari videos. If you like this post you should check out his blog. You can find him on Twitter as @Sandpapery.
Guns were just a formality. Everyone at this impromptu meeting carried one. And everyone also pointed their firearm at someone. And everyone also had one pointed at them. But no one was going to shoot. It just felt familiar and (perhaps) a bit impolite to not involve weapons in this gathering given the circumstances.
After all, the two groups facing off in this room didn’t really know one another. Not that trust was the key issue here (like I said, “…no one was going to shoot”): this is just how strangers negotiate. No one could fathom the idea of one of the groups showing up to the meeting unarmed. That would indicate that the group had either no respect for their abilities in combat (in which case the other group, had they known this, would not have agreed to participate in this meeting) or that they thought that the other group were docile cowards and therefore they had no need to be armed (a huge sign of disrespect). In either case, the armed group would have blown the other group away, just to be safe. Guns simply made these situations safer. It was a typical protocol that had to be maintained to uphold the confidences of the system. Like bowing before a king in his court or paying the delivery guy for your pizza: simple things that if you elected not to do (if you go to high-five the king instead or shoot the delivery guy) would contribute to unraveling the mores of society. Once we have done away with societies’ norms and niceties, we also see that we have done away with society (what else makes up a society other than the trusts we have in one another to follow the rules?). This was the bond that these two groups meeting here had: this was a society of combat – and guns ready to kill one another was the norm. Guns represented respect for the rules. They indicated that you cared not only about yourself, but also about the man on the other side because you confirmed the reason of your being here in your pointing your weapons at one another.
What is a war without weapons? A society of combat cannot exist without weapons! How can one ever be united to their enemy during an ideological struggle if they did not have a weapon in hand? Guns created brotherhood across ideological lines! Combat was the means by which nations bonded with one another and guns were the catalyst that helped to solidify that bond. The potential to spill your brother’s blood increased the fever of this process and every drop leaked from a bullet-ridden corpse acted as an adhesive to the overall will of differing societies to keep on bonding in war. This was the way of things.
So we stood. Estranged brothers reaching out to know one another in the only way possible. Ready to kill one another at a moment’s notice for the sake of our continued union with one another. A union that looked to be drawing to a close: the other side had lost its resolve. It gave up on our meeting together. Our family. We were the children of divorce.
“What are the terms?” the commander of the other side blurted out. Our enemy. Our brother who we showed our love for in our trying to kill him. In war hate was affection.
“Withdraw behind the lines of your territory…”. Our commander droned on and on: listing off the terms of peace. The cost of peace. Suddenly we were all well aware of what our lives were worth: giving up on our family. Each term spoken felt worse than the pain any bullet could produce. Being dissolved from one another- rejecting our formal bond- our reason for fellowship- we perceived to be worse than to live on estranged from one another in peace. At least in war we had an opportunity to interact.
We all looked at our commander as if he were some greedy lawyer acting as an intermediary between our divorcing parents. Our hate for him was not love. Thus we could note express it in killing him: for in war killing solidified the tie we had in combat. We did not want to be united with him.
The only means by which we could save our fellowship was to get our parents to interact again. They could not separate us! Not if we prevented it! The bond of nations is war! The catalyst of war is guns! Combat is family! The glue that binds us in combat is our shed blood! Blood is thicker than peace!
A lowly private on our side fires first. He hits the lieutenant he has had his rifle fixed upon since the meeting’s beginning. A sergeant hits a corporal. Realization flashes over the faces of our enemies.
“HOLD YOUR FIRE!!!”
A bullet flies past our commander’s ear and lands in the face of his second-in-command. The officer standing next to him goes down too as he fires his weapon at a captain coordinating the men under his command to form a line of suppressing fire to our flank. Our commander falls down on his stomach as he curses at us and screams statements about insubordination and firing squads. This cause is greater than insubordination. He failed in his duty to maintain our bond. We were going to continue it.
Flashes of rage could be seen in the eyes of every man on the field. A joyful reunion of brothers faithfully pursuing the bond of combat. Men fell down in scores as radio operators on either side frantically called back to their respective headquarters telling stories of failed negotiations and betrayals. This would guarantee the war’s continuance. Our fellowship would be maintained. More than that: more men would be brought into it. More fervor and dedication would be in their eyes as they entered the field to meet their brother to kill him. Our union as brothers in combat would be made more perfect as we learned better and better through experience and rage how best to kill one another: to truly come to know one another at our most fragile and passionate.
In the end only our commander was left alive. He who did not understand the bond could not be joined it.
