We’ll likely never know how
Often tormented souls agree
To be among the terror bombed,
The heroic first to die gloriously
For the cause, supposedly so
Quickly as not to feel pain, but
Turn from task, walk away at
The last moment realizing
They could not throw the switch,
Press the button. Do they return
To their leaders and beg to be
Forgiven, request to be relieved
Of the weaponry jacket, say,
“Perhaps another day,” or
“Allah be praised, I couldn’t
Do it. Find another.” What
Becomes of them? Do the
Recruiters decide they’ll
Tighten their criteria for such
Attackers, go for someone
More desperate, administer
Psychological tests to those
In training? Or are they cursed,
Killed lest they talk, reveal
Their mentors in the dance of
Death? Or do they, like Jesus
With the young man who wished
To serve but could not forsake
His possessions, feel sorrow
And let them go? What a waste
Of materiel, planning, opportunity
To commit turncoat killers whose
Wills crumple under stress, not
To say endangering the cell.
How many failures of recruitment
Would they countenance before
Sending someone back to become
Fodder for cannons in Syria
Or Iraq? How accountable are
They? A severed head maybe?
Or a cushy lifetime in penitence?
Hardly. Maybe he’d get to be an
Advance soldier to find the mines
On a road before a squad risks
Six fighters going onward.
Oh!—to die and receive no
Virgins. What failure. Or
Do they adjust their technique?
Equip the suicidals with
Both a voluntary button to
Secure their fame with choice
And a remote detonator in
The event they decide it is
Not their day to die? That
Would require an observer/
Actuator to know conditions
Are right but doubles the
Chance of detection. Would
The backup have to be close
Enough also to die? Or far
Enough away to survive and
Escape? Terror may be the
Weapon of the weak, available
To those with small budgets, but
It’s no picnic for the strategists
Either.
c. J.S.Manista, 2016
No comments:
Post a Comment