“Seems like only yesterday,” said Donavan. “I can still see all the faces and hear the voices of the men who were there with us. Makes you wonder why we were the ones able to return.”
“That was fifty years ago, people grow old. Look at us. Back then we would be the ones running around in uniform getting ready to repel an enemy attack. Man, we were good though, weren’t we?”
“Seems like there was more honor in it then. We had a purpose, rid the world of a great evil. Something like that anyway.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Sam,” said Gateway, “There’s just as much honor and pride in it for these kids as there was for us. That evil’s still there, the battlefields have just changed. These are our grandchildren an…”
“And children,” added Smith from the other side of the tree.
Gateway gave an irritated look, “…and children, and they’re forced to defend their country in a completely different way than we did. We’re now the big guy on the block and everyone is looking at us as a protector or an enemy. These kids not only have to keep in mind who the enemy is, they also must make sure that we don’t become the enemy ourselves. In a lot of ways, it’s a lot tougher than we had it. There’re more rules and the conflicts are on a smaller scale. Police actions, we’re now the world’s policemen, and you know how people feel about cops. Either they like us, or they hate us. Not much in between.”
“War’s now a bad word, Sam,” said Smith moving around to their side of the tree. “It brings on visions of total annihilation, stuff like that.”
“Like I said,” chuckled Donavon. “It seems like it was much simpler in our day. Pure, if you will. The good guys versus the bad guys.”
“That depends on which side you were on,” smiled Gateway.
“Well, we certainly can’t call them the good ol’ days because...,” said Smith until he was interrupted by the sound of small arms fire to the northeast. “I rest my case.”
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