Don’t Ask

by Patrick Trotti

They issue me a gun; a license to kill.

I’ve been poked and prodded and trained to become a finely-oiled machine. My days are long and strictly regimented and my feelings have become detached and departmentalized.

They said I would enter a boy and leave "Army Strong." I wonder if that still applies if they knew I didn’t have a wife and kid waiting for me at home. I don’t want to know the answer because I'm afraid it would somehow undermine my valor.

I’d like to think it wouldn’t make a difference; that courage and honor are more important than labels.