Overhead in a plane I silently kept the door-kicker safe. Let these rough men willing to visit harm on evil-doers do their thing. That’s not me. I’ve got mine. Specialization of labor and all that.
And I was specialized. Honed to perfection. Not a single American died while I worked overhead. I never mentioned that out loud. Must avoid the jinx. Always. Keep the gremlins out of the engines. Keep the plane in the sky. Knock on wood. Americans alive.
But I was done killing and helping to kill. I’m not a door kicker. Never saw their faces. That’s not the dream I have.
But I was done killing and helping to kill. A just war doesn’t make killing easy. And ours was hardly just.
Now I’m sure some doors go un-kicked, And I’m guilty of killing yet still.