Captain’s Log

I’ve gotten myself into some deep shit.  Two days ago I went to a local bookseller and purchased an English translation of the book whose latin title is Necronomicon.  I have long desired the knowledge hidden within those dark texts.  Though I am not born of the moon of the mystic, I am still a warrior of the spirit.  As a spirit warrior I do possess, after my own fashion, an understanding of things spiritual in nature.  My purpose for seeking such dark secrets as are found in those texts was to strengthen my spirit against the forces of the dark as well as to better learn how to combat them.  Know thine enemy.  So absorbed was I in the reading of those texts that I had read the book through and through in only one night, last night.  Indeed, upon further inspection of the translated work I felt the presence of two underlings of the forces of Oblivion.  these gafflings could only be avatars of Terror and Despair, who corrupt into the Emptiness all they can.  One of these spirits actually had the audacity to confront me today, and at high noon!  Me! How heedlessly arrogant was this servant of Despair, for I easily defeated it and sent it back into a slumber within its book.  What a wicked book.

The manner in which it approached me was this:  it had watched me all the morning long while I was in a class receiving instruction on the AN/PSS-14 mine sweeping system.  When it came time to eat at midday, I was selected to stay behind, alone, and guard the AN/PSS-14s.  As soon as I had been left alone I bought some cheap candy from the vending machine and ate it while I stood in the doorway of the room where the AN/PSS14s were stored and smoked my last (and lucky) cigarette.  No sooner had I finished than came a naseaus sinking feeling in the pit of my gut, as though my bowels were sucking my stomach into them.  all the while I felt a voice in my head, which sounded like unto my own, compelling me to abandon my morals and my dreams, for in the end they will all be for nothing, and the truest and most natural state for me to be in is one of utter emptiness.  For a brief moment I was taken aback by a strong feeling of despair.  Immediately I rose up in my own spirit to challenge it.  The battle was such that I cannot clearly remember it, so exhausted was I afterward.  What I do remember is saying to it repeatedly, “I am a sleeping draon.  Do not disturb me for it is not my time to awaken.  Be gone or I shall crush you.  Let me rest.  Let me rest.  Let me rest.”  I felt the evil quail before my voice and it disappeared as though I had destroyed it.  Then I felt my body grow weak as though I had not slept in ages, and I managed to sit in a chair before I collapsed.  I was awakened shortly thereafter by my instructor, laughing at his sleeping guard.  I am certain that I have sent the servant of Despair into a slumber within that evil book.  Of the second spirit, the slave of Terror, I will likely have no confrontation, for terror has no power over those who know no fear.  I doubt it will approach me, and I doubt it could even make me notice it if it wanted to.  For I am a spirit warrior of the light, and I fear no darkness.

Today was a milestone for both me and my rifle.  We fired a total of 300 rounds, ten to adjust her sights, and 290 consecutively.  That was more rounds than I’ve ever fired in a single day in my life.  My arms were sore for a good hour just from firing.  The total number of rounds fired by the whole company today was 3,300.  They came in boxes.  That is more rounds than I’ve ever seen in my life at once.  Today I have formed a bond with my rifle.  She is a good mistress, harsh but practical.  Her name is Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, friend of mankind.  Every time I touch her I connect with her spirit, at one with another being.  This bond grows stronger each time I fire her, and when I focus on it, I can feel her spirit speaking to my own.

today I am 244, and I grow wiser with each moon.  Today I was selected as one of five Marines from my platoon of thirty to go and have dinner with a former Colonel of the US Marines, who is also currently the Assistant Secretary of the US Navy, and most importantly a recipient of the Medal of Honor, which is the highest award any US citizen can earn.  He is a renowned leader and champion of his people.  My initial reaction was the utmost respect, due solely to the fact that he earned a Medal of Honor.  However, this full and complete respect was ingled with severe contempt due to his occupation as Assistant Secretary of the US Navy, a position in the government which I completely loathe and at the same time respect somewhat.  When he got up to speak, I was at once in awe to be in the presence of a real hero, and also disgusted by his supposed superiority to me and most other men in this world.  We are the sum of all of our parts, including our thoughts and deeds.  He has proven himself to be on a level that I have not yet attained, and I felt it would be dishonorable for one such as myself, with my current status in the world, to approach such a man of worth.  So I didn’t.  I despise all the people who were disrespectful enough to approach him without any reverance, as if he were just another officer, and on top of it to actually request something of him, especially something so petty as a picture.  And worse, they were all proud and happy that they did it.  As much as I loathe him, he deserves more respect than that.  But I am weary now, and can no longer tell if what I am writing is truly what is in my heart.  I will sleep now, and tomorrow after training I will meditate to clear my cloudy mind.  Happy 244th!

… if I were to write down all the thoughts I am having tonight, it would fill many volumes … but it is only in me to write only so much …

… my thoughts stray constantly to Cassandra … I miss her greatly and love her so much that I can hardly bear to be away from her in her time of need … but first things must come first.  Only I wish sometimes that she could be more important than my dreams and morals … life would be so much easier …

Easy lives do not make men great.

It is said by some that we, the Marines of Anvil Company, 6th Engineer Support Battalion of the 23rd Marines, have sacrificed much of our lives by volunteering to go to war.  We have all left behind our families, our friends, our loved ones, our homes, and our careers, and a plethora of other everyday things that common men and women enjoy and often take for granted.  I say it is no sacrifice at all to leave such things behind, especially in the face of such glory and war.  Most people, normal people, and even a few Marines, blanch at the idea of leaving a comfortable home with all the luxuries of life to go and build roads which they have no intentions to use, feed another nations children, and kill some people who they’ve never even known.  Most people are terrified of parting with the things that make their lives easy.  to me, such thoughts and attitudes show a petty spirit.  To me, because the common man says such things, it only proves that the common man of today is a petty man.  No, the war is not justified.  yes, it is being fought in a very inefficient way.  But the mistakes of those in command do not detract one bit from the greatness of the war, and they do not at all tarnish the honor of putting your life on the line as a warrior, nor do they detract any of the glory of killing and dominating other men.  Therefore I hold that the ones who have truly sacrificed something are the ones who will not leave the comforts of home, for they sacrifice their right to the honor and the glory and the pride of a warrior … and worst of all the only blessings they get for it are  comfortable homes and a misguided complacency with life.  I do not understand how such people could possibly be happy with a life devoid of glory, a life of boring routines and no real action.  But then, what does a warrior know of peace?  Warriors fight for glory, and so long as there is glory to be gained, so long as there are people or even abstract ideas to fight for or against, a warrior will never know nor will he want peace.  Peace is not in him.  The screams and death rattles of his enemies bring him joy, and pain is his best friend.  I am a warrior.  Therefore I fight for something, I long for it in my heart and soul, and I will never stop fighting for it until my dying breath.  I do not fight to protect my home or family.  I do not fight for the United States of America.  I do not fight for the Marine Corps nor for my fellow Marines.  I fight for honor and for glory.  I fight because I am proud to be a warrior.  I fight because pain and death are my greatest allies and worst foes.  I fight to conquer all fear.  You may take my life, you may take my freedom, but you can never take from me my pride as a warrior.

I’m leaving Mike and Joy for good.  Our hearts conflict, and they’ve insulted me for the last time.  They live on the ground.  What they don’t realize is that I was born to fly with Dragon and Phoenix.  I was supposed to be married by now, and she was supposed to be with child.  But Fate, it seems, will yield to no one.  We don’t know why, but the child died two moons into the pregnancy.  And once the child was gone, her mother withdrew her consent to let her marry.  All this in the same week that I was to leave for war.

The road is open to those who have dreams, and only fear can block the way.  And so I sit, contemplating the latest tragedies and triumphs of my life, knowing that the greatest adventure I have had yet lies still before me.  And I am not afraid.