I saw this picture the other day. It was explained as a father holding his daughter after fighting in Basara.

I stare at this picture and ask myself what would I feel if I held either of my daughters this way? Her feet blown off, left as bloody stumps, her body crushed, her life extinguished. Looking at the picture I can’t figure out whether he is retrieving his daughter from a pile of bodies in a truck, or placing her body into the pile of bodies for transport to a burial.

What would I feel if I had my broken dead daughter in my arms? My rage would boil. My mind would seethe with plans for revenge on those who killed by daughter. I would never let my other child or her relatives forget who killed their sister and cousin. I would train them to revenge her death. I would aid abet any others who would inflict pain upon those who killed her. I would plan and execute my revenge in a way that would cause those who killed her, the pain I felt.

There would be no rejoicing over my freedom from my government. I would not be thankful for the liberators whose actions caused me the life of my daughter. What joy would there be when the joy of my life laid in my arms minus her feet, minus her laughter, minus her life?

I could never laugh again. It would be a life of pain, which could only be relieved when I held the warm, bloody, lifeless heart of my enemy in my hands.

My god would be come a god of vengeance. My prayer would be for the destruction of my enemy. I would gladly sacrifice my life if I knew I could cause pain and death to my enemy. Knowing I couldn’t strike the head and heart of the enemy, I would be satisfied with attacking any extension, any target, any agent.

Have we really brought peace?

John Nagle
Father
Former soldier