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How
do you kill a child? For some people it seems quite
easy - look at the Middle East today. There were times
when I had the chance. I remember standing outside
a shop in Leeson Street. A young British soldier was
at the corner crying for his ''mummy''. I stood over
him with a .45 aimed at his head. I could easily have
physically pulled the trigger and sent him off to
eternity. But morally and emotionally I was not able
to end his life. He was a mere child, so frightened,
out of his own country facing what his politicians
and commanding officers told him were the ''mad Irish''.
I could not shoot him. In a gun battle, at a distance,
beyond the sound of his cries, where he had a soldier's
chance I could have. But at that point the thing I
felt it was my duty to kill - the soldier - had died
within him. Now stood only a child whimpering in front
of me.
I
wonder where he is now. Is he alive with children
of his own? Alive because the 'mad Irish' were not
all that mad and refrained from ending his life outside
Greenwood's shop on Leeson Street. You lucky little
bastard! And I am so glad. I just hope you did not
grow into something hateful who would do to others
what I refused to do to you. I hope not. I hope you
are alive and living life to the full.
You
came here at the direction of your leaders to invade
our country. I had more reason to end your life than
you ever had to take mine. I do not know you yet I
know you so well. The two of us, working class guys
thrown in against each other so that others could
benefit. You were English and I was Irish - hardly
reasons to kill each other.
Farewell
British soldier. May you and your children live happy
lives. I would like to see you again - but not in
uniform.
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