HITLER'S CHILDREN - "You weren't there, you didn't do it."

One of my best friends, an English guy, is obsessed with Germany. He just loves it. He knows the language, he visits whenever he can. All his favourite bands are German.

I was telling a German friend about this. It was sometime last year, I think around September. We met up in Spain -- and we were talking about the war, about her being German and me being English. I guess we were trying to figure out what it means 70 years later. Anyway, she couldn't grasp the fact that my friend adores Germany. She was uncomfortable with it, she didn't believe it. When she thought of what legacies her country has left the world, the only thing that came to mind was the Nazis. 

And she feels immensely guilty about it.

Not that she thinks about it all the time. But when you're a German and you visit another country, your accent is unmistakable. And I have to admit, the second I hear the German accent, I get a little trigger in my head, a little reminder, the thought of World War 2 flashes through my mind. Not in an angry way, not really in any way at all-- but it appears for a moment in my consciousness.

History takes a long time to process. People say "enough about the Holocaust already!" or "get over slavery, it was like 200 years ago!", but you can't put a time stamp on these things. The effects of history still play out in society in more ways than people realise.

"Hitler's Children" is a documentary that aired on the BBC a few weeks ago. A friend mentioned it yesterday, assuming I'd seen it, but I knew nothing of it. I did a quick search online and found it on YouTube.

It's about the direct descendants of some of the biggest Nazi war criminals, such as Rudolph Hoess' grandson Rainer and Amon Goethe's daughter, Monika. It's a very touching documentary, focusing on five individuals, all of whom seem like absolutely wonderful people, but they're burdened by the guilt of what their relatives did.

How do you deal with such a thing? Goering's Great Niece & Nephew decided to be sterilised. Their grandfather attempted to exterminate the Jewish race and now his descendants are exterminating their own family. It's the best answer they've come up with. Niklas Frank, the son of Hans Frank, tries to exorcise his guilt by writing about his evil parents and educating younger people by doing talks. But sometimes he tells people that he has no trust, especially in Germans. He thinks they have the potential to do the same again.

That's what always worries me. Not about Germans, but all of us. Because the people who worked in Auschwitz were normal people; doctors, farmers, artists, etc; they came from all over to work for a cause they BELIEVED IN.

Our brains are wired in strange ways. We conform. What if our iPhones suddenly started instructing us to kill people? What if the celebrities that flood our brains every day in tabloid newspapers started subtly pronouncing hateful ideology? How strong is our will? How certain are we we'll know what's right? The Goering's and Hitler's are scary; but the everyday accomplices are even scarier; because they're no different to any of us. 

I think I'm a good person in a good country, but then I look at the Iraqi civilian death count and realise I know nothing.

As for World War 2; I feel, as an individual, that I am still processing this part of history. My grandparents fought in the war, and I love them for it. But there is so much I don't know and will never know. When I meet a German person, if I'm honest with you; I really feel the urge to talk about it. And I mean it in the best possible way, I just want to TALK! To process what it means to us as human beings in the 21st century. Part of that is a fascination with that part of history, a deep interest; but also there's a feeling of hurt, of confusion, of still grappling with the past and what it means to us, what it means to me. I think it's the same for a lot of people, from all the nations involved. 

There's this beautiful moment in the documentary when a Jewish holocaust survivor meets Rainer Hoess, the grandson of the Auschwitz commandant, Rudolph Hoess. Seeing Rainer's deep pain and guilt, the survivor says to him, "You weren't there, you didn't do it." It's a beautiful moment. The most unlikely meeting you can imagine, but you feel the world getting healed a little just by the moment they shared together.

As the older generations come towards the end of their lives, it becomes a world where none of us were there to witness it, but many of us still need to talk about it. And I hope we do. History is our greatest teacher, with endless wisdom. I hope we can process it together.

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London Falling

1940, East London. Helen was in the cinema. She had no trouble sinking into the story. The alternative was to think about life, which was unbearable.

Roger kept watch over the skies. Was amazing how such a peaceful nighttime sky could so quickly turn into a screaming nightmare.

The siren was always frightening. The darkness bone chilling. Sometimes she wouldn't get out of the cinema. A pitch black theatre of dreams, an escapists paradise, five seconds away from smithereens. 

Roger couldn't understand it. Why did his wife choose the cinema over safety? He'd seen what rained from the skies every night. It wasn't human. It wasn't of this earth. He wanted Helen locked in a safe dungeon far underground for the next few years.

Every morning, Helen would look out of the bedroom window, just to make sure her favourite building was still standing. No-one on the wireless or in the skies was making any sense, but the cinema was golden.

Roger received the information. London was on lock down. Helen was at the movies, where everything was singing and dancing. The town went silent and dark. Black objects appeared like ghosts in the distant sky.

Roger sensed it. He left his post and sprinted. There was going to be a hit, and it wasn't going to be pleasant.

Helen stared at the screen, fully aware of how life is magical yet impossible.

Then it went stone dark.

From inside she heard the rumble rumble crumble of London, and everything got closer. There was going to be a hit, she knew it.

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Saving Private Ryan - Jarhead - Blackhawk Down - The Counterfeiters

Notes on a few films I've watched this week.

Saving Private Ryan

It seemed different this time. I just felt sad. Whoever is shooting whoever, it's still eighteen year old's dying, y'know?

Everything about World War 2 is poignant to me. It's a constant in my life. If there's a story in the newspaper, or an exhibition in town, or I see an old guy walking down the street who could have been there -- it just deeply impacts me. I measure so much of my life against the weight of World War 2. The impact is a direct one. The privileges I have now have a direct correlation to the sacrifices made by those seventy-odd years ago. 

The opening battle of 'Saving Private Ryan' doesn't need character introductions. It doesn't need backstory. We know it. It's our grandparents, and our friend's grandparents. It's those forgotten people sitting in old people's homes, It's those names that line the graves all around the world, many who didn't get to live out their teens.

We get to really feel into so many different perspectives with 'Saving Private Ryan'. We see leaders who are scared, we see cowards who are brave, we see pride, anger, resentment, confusion. The same shit we feel every day except what we feel is nothing in comparison. I'm brave if I phone a big scary producer, I'm angry if my email server has problems. It's different now. 

My Grandfather was fighting in Europe. He risked everything for his country. I don't think I've ever risked anything for anyone. 

Jarhead

Iraq, what the hell is that about? Nobody really knows. One minute, the leader of a terrorist organization somewhere inside of Afghanistan is behind the deaths of 3,000 in New York City, and the next, we've killed a million civilians in Iraq. 

And Iraq was the same the first time. Well, I mean the first time out of the recent times. Iraq has been going on for a hundred years. 

"It's the British again. They have been bombing my family for over 80 years now. Four generations have lived and died with these unwanted visitors from Britain who come to pour explosives on us from the skies. It first began in 1920." 

-Quote from 'Postcolonialism', A Very Short Introduction. (book)

Jarhead takes place in Saudi Arabia in 1989, just before the Gulf War. It's about a group of marines, a sniper unit--- who find themselves waiting around for a mission, waiting for the chance to kill. 

Of course, Jarhead came out after the Iraq War (the recent one) - and it resonates. The marines are wondering, why are we really here? And the question of oil looms. But when you're a soldier you're a soldier, you're not a politician. You don't get to weigh up the good and bad, you just have to do your job. You're trained to kill. But that's the thing with modern wars, nobody really knows what's going on or why we're there. We send our soldiers out into the world and we trust they're being sent to the right places. And we hope they'll be okay. 

Blackhawk Down 

Why Iraq? Why not Sudan? Why Libya now and not Libya twenty years ago? These are the types of questions you always come across. We're all ignorant and clueless. Even people who know a lot about the different conflicts of the world, they're pretty clueless too. We can sit around intellectualising the benefits of invading certain countries, or peacekeeping, or whatever it is; but what do any of us know? When you watch 'Saving Private Ryan' you realize, unless you were there, you have no idea what it's like. And unless you're Libyan or Somalian, you have no idea what those regions are like. 

'Blackhawk Down' really brings home the way in which soldiers risk their lives in these horrible, war-torn environments. It's scary. It used to be one crazed dictator leading the masses with a belief system. Now it's militias and poverty and various factions of gangs. 

You see Blackhawk's getting shot down in 'Blackhawk Down', which was set in 1993, and you realise it's no different to being shot down in 1944. You turn on the news and a helicopter goes down in 2011. And this shit continuously cycles. A constant storm of death which is never going to end. 

The battles differ --- fascism, terrorism, genocide, etc. We send people in, they die. We don't send people in, people die anyway. Yet every time it happens, everyone thinks they're an expert. The leaders are so certain they've made the right decisions.

Films are just films, just something we get to watch as our backs rest on comfortable cushions -- but they help keep us awake to the horrors of the world. They keep us alert and give us perspective.

The Counterfeiters 

We think of Nazi's as bad, and the Western Allies as good. Or we think of Nazi's as bad, and the Jews as good. But 'Schindler's List' showed us that to have been in the Nazi Party doesn't mean you're not human. Likewise, The Counterfeiters shows the diversity within the Jews who were held captive. The two main characters in the film -- one is counterfeiting money for the Nazi's so that they won't kill him, whereas his campmate sabotages every attempt because on principle he doesn't want to help the German war effort. Both are right. Both are wrong. What would you do in that situation? Don't even begin to answer unless you've been in a concentration camp, because you don't have a clue.

"What I'm saying to you is this: when you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?"

-Frank Costello, 'The Departed'

Why do we watch these films? I'm drawn to them, but not for the reasons I thought. Years ago, I found it heroic. The sacrifices made by greater men than me is something I found very profound. But now, it's something different. It's a window -- a window into a world that is real and prevalent, but not something I'll ever experience.

The over-riding thing for me is a sadness. War to me is insane. I feel like Yossarian in' Catch 22'. Baffled. I have friends in the forces, I have friends whose friends have died in the recent conflicts. I'm sure it's the same for you. I don't know why we have so much conflict, and I don't know why we make the films or why we're compelled to watch them. One thing I know, which we've already begun to see, is that films shouldn't just be made by the victors. They shouldn't just be products of Hollywood. That's why 'The Counterfeiters' and 'Das Boot' and 'Downfall' are so interesting. They're Germany digging into their own history. Films can help drive society forward, they can help deep, traumatic tales be told, and they can bring marginalized voices to the fore.

In 'Blackhawk Down', the story of the American forces is only one part of the story. What is the story of the Somalian Militia? What is the story of the eight year old Somalian boy who joins the conflict? What is the story of the Mother whose children are killed by the battles? Every film will be selective. Just like every individual. We see conflict from the position that suits us the most, with the certainty that we're in the right.

The world is complicated.

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The Richness Of Our History: My Personal Experience Of Remembrance Day 2010

I often despair about how my generation is so willing to disregard the past. Yesterday, thousands upon thousands of young students took to the streets of London in protest at the Government rising tuition fees. The protests weren't peaceful; they were violent. During a week when a large percentage of the population are wearing red poppies, I found it quite upsetting that with our freedom, we turn to violence. Whilst some would say "it would only a very small minority" there was a much larger, silent minority, that were cheering them on and supporting them.

For me there is a big link - between what was happening yesterday, and what was happening today as me and my friend Raz made our way to a local remembrance service at a site that's historical significance has mostly been lost to the younger generations. I was saddened to see that me and my friend were the youngest people by about 40 years. Where were the other people of my generation? Where was everyone in between? My friend, Raz, was in agreement. And we felt quite sad about it. But then something changed in me-- which I'll mention in a bit but first let me talk about Derek and Bryan.

Derek came up to us before the service and, I guess, mistaking us for nine year old's asked "are you from the school?" We explained that we weren't -- and we got chatting. He began sharing many stories with us from when he was a young kid during the war. Like so many, his home was bombed. Like so many, he was so nearly killed. Like so many, he was injured in a way that has affected him his whole life. Like so many, he was evacuated as a child and taken away from his family, with no way to contact them. His stories were so amazing; at times inspiring, at times upsetting, but more often than not just extremely EXCITING! He was a young boy during wartime. And he had some great times. But he also had some very bad times -- and his emotions ranged from ecstatic and excited to deeply moved and emotional. Here was a man, in his late seventies, remembering vividly being a tiny kid in London.

I said previously that something changed in me. It was perspective. It came during the remembrance service as many incredible people stood up and shared a part of a story, a part of history, a part of themselves with the gathered crowd. I realized that, in terms of my generation and remembrance, the important people aren't the millions who don't show up. The important ones are people like me and Raz. That's what it is now. That's how history lives on, through two people or four people or one person or one school project that does something to help it live on. That's more powerful than a mass crowd. 30,000 students descended on London yesterday and smashed some buildings up -- the issue was lost, we were left with destruction. But two friends surrounded by warm and inspiring war veterans is something more powerful. My friend, Raz; is a very open, sensitive, and passionate Muslim man -- who came along on this cold, wet morning; to stand side by side with lots of old white people. Because he knew that color wasn't the issue. It's bigger than that. And there's me, a writer and a film director. If I go to a remembrance service but the 300 Facebook friends I invited didn't--- it doesn't matter. It's not about them. It's about me. It's about people like me. It's about showing up.

Who cares? It's in the past!? Have you ever heard that one? History is not in the past -- it relives itself every day. We can see history all around us. Today, as I connected with Derek and Bryan; they talked and they laughed and they cried, and so did we. They told me stories about the places I grew up --- places I know as parks and fields and shops but they know as airfields and command offices and places they'd find interesting bits of shrapnel.

Today was important, because we were able to say we're here. We're listening. We care. Our generation doesn't do that enough. We sit on Facebook, we write on our blogs and we send our text messages; but we don't have a great deal of awareness about what people have gone through in order for us to have those privileges. Derek was telling us stories today about people like the RAF BOMBER COMMAND, who had 55,000 aircrew KILLED during World War 2. Nothing has been done to commemorate these people. And to commemorate is important. That piece of cement in the ground, it needs to be there so we can say WE CARE. WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID. WE LOVE ALL OF YOU. What could be more important? The most I've volunteered to do recently was look after my friend's daughter for a night so she could have a night out. These fighters volunteered their lives, FOR US. FOR YOU, FOR ME, for everyone who's ever felt a moment of freedom in their lives. From the RAF Bomber Squad website "They died in blazing, crashing aircraft whilst fighting against the enemies of our free world. It is nothing short of a national disgrace that Britain has so far failed to properly recognise this brave and talented group of individuals." That's just one example of people who aren't recognized as much as they should be. There are many more. I'm sure you'll have examples, and people that are meaningful to you. 

Today was a good day. I felt a shift in the world, in my world. It's not about the apathy of those who don't take time to remember, or of the school who are ACROSS THE ROAD from the memorial who didn't respond to their Remembrance Service invite. It's about those men and women who were there. It's about those who fought, those who looked after our children, those who worked in factories contributing to the effort. It's about those who died and those who survived. And it's about me and you, in whatever way we can, REMEMBERING. And SHARING. And engaging people who have the capacity to be engaged on this topic; the topic being to remember. History is present all around us. There is a lot of pain, for a lot of people, and by taking the time to hear their pain you are giving them so much, and you are being given so much. There is also a richness and beauty to their memories; the joy, the victories and the camaraderie that they felt and still do. 

I'm glad you're all here.

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June 6th - A Short Story

I logged on to Facebook. I was kind of hoping that Sally would have messaged me back, but she hadn't. Although she did write on Paul's wall so she had been online. Aggh, I'm so depressed. Why won't she message me back? Should I write on her wall? Poke her?. Not only that, but my boss keeps giving me shit because I keep showing up late. Fucking idiot, doesn't he know I've got enough problems? I logged back on to Facebook, Sally has deleted me. OMG. How could she block me?.

He was in the middle of the sea. He was probably freezing cold, he was probably scared - but he didn't really notice because he was so focused on the task ahead. And what was ahead, he didn't really know. He wanted to look into the eyes of the men beside him but he couldn't, because he was in the darkness of night. The horrors that were only hours away were too big to think about. He took comfort in knowing that his best friend Timmy was on the same boat as him.

I messaged Jane and asked her why Sally deleted me. I didn't understand. I am also looking for new jobs but it's so hard with the recession on. I took comfort in my Xbox 360. But then midway through a game it FROZE! This is why I don't let my Brother play my Xbox. Obviously he's broken it somehow. I just about managed to stop myself going insane and throwing the console out of the window. Fuck it, I just need comfort food. I made myself a sandwich. Actually I didn't - because there was no chicken left in the fridge. How can there be no chicken left in the Fridge? I tried phoning my brother to find out if he'd stolen my chicken but I couldn't get a reception on my phone. My phone is crap, I need a new phone.

He couldn't help but notice the eerie silence around him. The only noises were the occasional cough, or some guy at the back being sick. Everybody felt sick. Most wouldn't admit it. The night was nearly over and the beaches were ever closer. He instinctively knew that what was to come was going to be a lot different to everything he had experienced before. He thought briefly about Mary. He wondered what she was doing right now. He hoped she was sleeping.

I did a google image search for Scarlet Johannson. Life was suddenly great again and all my stresses were gone. After about fifty pictures of her I moved on to Meagan Good. Maybe life wasn't such a drag after all. My friend Charlie came round and we ordered a pizza. Charlie's my mate but to be honest, he annoys me. For example, he blatantly always tries it on with Sally, right in front of me. And he always belittles the things I say. AND, the dude owes me £50 from like three months ago. I wanna smash his face in. I can't deal with a friend owing me money and hitting on my girl.

He didn't quite get time to have a thought pass through his head, because the bullet flew right into his helmet before he even saw the enemy. Luckily, his helmet managed to hold out. Little Bryan wasn't as lucky, it sliced right through his shoulder and took him down. Within seconds, they were all in the water, fighting to get to dry land. Not that dry land was any better-- the onslaught of German fire was non-stop. He saw a small dip in the sand that could be used as cover. He headed for it but another soldier got there first. Good job the other soldier got there first because his arm got blown off just as he touched the ground.

I was meant to go to JJ's party tonight but instead thought I'd stay at home. I logged onto facebook and looked at some pictures. Pictures of Sally that her friends had tagged. I had reached the point of official devastation. Maybe I should just kill myself. Nah, I think I'll just throw on a DVD and drown my sorrows.

He could almost burst due to the sheer pressure in his head. Everything was happening at once. The water behind him was a sickening red, and the beach before him was a sea of men falling. It was too many things to take in at once - the smells and sights were indescribable. He would have taken more time to be dazzled by all this but there were still Germans shooting at him. Suddenly, a soldier dived on top of him-- they both fell to the ground. "What was that?" he asked. The bald comrade who wasn't wearing a helmet said "Keep moving, you nearly got your head blown off". Before he could say thanks the bald guy was already saving another life. As for our hero, he never saw the bald guy again. He never saw Timmy again either, but he didn't have time to think about that.

I think the world is falling apart. Seriously. Apparently, they think that maybe too much coffee can now cause mental issues. So I'm fucked! And I've just found out they're thinking of making a new Back To The Future movie, why Lord, WHY? Nothing makes sense anymore. Even Ronaldo is thinking of signing for Real Madrid!. I left Sally a voicemail. I know I shouldn't, but I did.

His uniform was ripped on one side from shrapnel and the other side was covered in blood. Although it looked brown. He thought blood was meant to look red. They were shooting at him again. Everyone was exploding. One guy was on fire, he didn't know how that happened. It was at this point he realised he needed to kill some Germans. He nervously hovered behind some tall soldier he'd never seen before and another guy who might be Mikey J but he can't be sure because his face was half blown off.

I logged off of Facebook and I ignored JJ's missed calls. My life was becoming more than stressful, I'm too old to be dealing with this shit lol.

He turned to look at the boy who was giving him instructions. He really was a boy, he looked 14. The boy didn't get to finish giving instructions because his head got blown off. All around there were boys crying, boys screaming, boys dying. But more common than that, were boys coming together. Boys focused. Boys advancing on an enemy that had to be stopped. He suddenly felt a jolt of confidence, a reminder of his purpose. It was all he needed. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. He pointed his gun at the tower above and took aim.

I wrote this story on June 5th 2009, and posted it on June 6th (D-Day Anniversary) 2009. This is a RE-POST. I'm currently away and will be back at the weekend! Come back tomorrow for the final GUEST WRITER! (she's awesome!)

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June 6th.

A Short Story.

I logged on to Facebook. I was kind of hoping that Sally would have messaged me back, but she hadn't. Although she did write on Paul's wall so she had been online. Aggh, I'm so depressed. Why won't she message me back? Should I write on her wall? Poke her?. Not only that, but my boss keeps giving me shit because I keep showing up late. Fucking idiot, doesn't he know I've got enough problems? I logged back on to Facebook, Sally has deleted me. OMG. How could she block me?.

He was in the middle of the sea. He was probably freezing cold, he was probably scared - but he didn't really notice because he was so focused on the task ahead. And what was ahead, he didn't really know. He wanted to look into the eyes of the men beside him but he couldn't, because he was in the darkness of night. The horrors that were only hours away were too big to think about. He took comfort in knowing that his best friend Timmy was on the same boat as him.

I messaged Jane and asked her why Sally deleted me. I didn't understand. I am also looking for new jobs but it's so hard with the recession on. I took comfort in my Xbox 360. But then midway through a game it FROZE! This is why I don't let my Brother play my Xbox. Obviously he's broken it somehow. I just about managed to stop myself going insane and throwing the console out of the window. Fuck it, I just need comfort food. I made myself a sandwich. Actually I didn't - because there was no chicken left in the fridge. How can there be no chicken left in the Fridge? I tried phoning my brother to find out if he'd stolen my chicken but I couldn't get a reception on my phone. My phone is crap, I need a new phone.

He couldn't help but notice the eerie silence around him. The only noises were the occasional cough, or some guy at the back being sick. Everybody felt sick. Most wouldn't admit it. The night was nearly over and the beaches were ever closer. He instinctively knew that what was to come was going to be a lot different to everything he had experienced before. He thought briefly about Mary. He wondered what she was doing right now. He hoped she was sleeping.

I did a google image search for Scarlet Johannson. Life was suddenly great again and all my stresses were gone. After about fifty pictures of her I moved on to Meagan Good. Maybe life wasn't such a drag after all. My friend Charlie came round and we ordered a pizza. Charlie's my mate but to be honest, he annoys me. For example, he blatantly always tries it on with Sally, right in front of me. And he always belittles the things I say. AND, the dude owes me £50 from like three months ago. I wanna smash his face in. I can't deal with a friend owing me money and hitting on my girl.

He didn't quite get time to have a thought pass through his head, because the bullet flew right into his helmet before he even saw the enemy. Luckily, his helmet managed to hold out. Little Bryan wasn't as lucky, it sliced right through his shoulder and took him down. Within seconds, they were all in the water, fighting to get to dry land. Not that dry land was any better-- the onslaught of German fire was non-stop. He saw a small dip in the sand that could be used as cover. He headed for it but another soldier got there first. Good job the other soldier got there first because his arm got blown off just as he touched the ground.

I was meant to go to JJ's party tonight but instead thought I'd stay at home. I logged onto facebook and looked at some pictures. Pictures of Sally that her friends had tagged. I had reached the point of official devastation. Maybe I should just kill myself. Nah, I think I'll just throw on a DVD and drown my sorrows.

He could almost burst due to the sheer pressure in his head. Everything was happening at once. The water behind him was a sickening red, and the beach before him was a sea of men falling. It was too many things to take in at once - the smells and sights were indescribable. He would have taken more time to be dazzled by all this but there were still Germans shooting at him. Suddenly, a soldier dived on top of him-- they both fell to the ground. "What was that?" he asked. The bald comrade who wasn't wearing a helmet said "Keep moving, you nearly got your head blown off". Before he could say thanks the bald guy was already saving another life. As for our hero, he never saw the bald guy again. He never saw Timmy again either, but he didn't have time to think about that.

I think the world is falling apart. Seriously. Apparently, they think that maybe too much coffee can now cause mental issues. So I'm fucked! And I've just found out they're thinking of making a new Back To The Future movie, why Lord, WHY? Nothing makes sense anymore. Even Ronaldo is thinking of signing for Real Madrid!. I left Sally a voicemail. I know I shouldn't, but I did.

His uniform was ripped on one side from shrapnel and the other side was covered in blood. Although it looked brown. He thought blood was meant to look red. They were shooting at him again. Everyone was exploding. One guy was on fire, he didn't know how that happened. It was at this point he realised he needed to kill some Germans. He nervously hovered behind some tall soldier he'd never seen before and another guy who might be Mikey J but he can't be sure because his face was half blown off.

I logged off of Facebook and I ignored JJ's missed calls. My life was becoming more than stressful, I'm too old to be dealing with this shit lol.

He turned to look at the boy who was giving him instructions. He really was a boy, he looked 14. The boy didn't get to finish giving instructions because his head got blown off. All around there were boys crying, boys screaming, boys dying. But more common than that, were boys coming together. Boys focused. Boys advancing on an enemy that had to be stopped. He suddenly felt a jolt of confidence, a reminder of his purpose. It was all he needed. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. He pointed his gun at the tower above and took aim.

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