Locked and loaded
The old Soldiers knows. The madness of youth was the temptation of sweet wine and the fighting and dying for something worthwhile. It was their strength and their weakness.

An old soldier slowly drink his whiskey  and he tell his stories to willing ears. He told strangers. The savageness of war is accepting and denial in old age. He talks of places where the grass and the sand was drenched in blood without emotion. Like a story from a book or another life.

The old soldiers gather. Men haunted by war need people who understand war is shit and many men died for freedom. A high price paid for the new generation who gave-up their rights of freedom without a fight.

Dimly lighted bars, hide somber faces. The blackness of war must face the light. The old soldiers tell the kids. Don’t wish for war. You may get your wish. Us soldiers fought for men with no concern for the young men and women. War is defined differently today. Old days. We fought to defend ourselves. If we were attacked. We were willing to fight and die for our country. Today we fight for strangers who rarely appreciate our actions and help. We allowed war contractors to become wealthy with the blood of our young people.

The old soldier drank a cold beer for his friends killed in the Iraq sand. He raised his beer high to the sky and he talked to a ghostly memory. I haven’t forgotten you old friends. Today I must live for you and me. We, who had lived must tell the story of great and brave men. One day I will find you and us old Soldiers will find a saloon in paradise. Drink to pretty women, children and the good day.

John Castellenas/Coyote