Never Forgotten, Never Remembered
Posted By: Marine Corps 117<marinecorps117@yahoo.com>
Date: 25 August 2006, 4:07 am
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"Know much about Purgatory? It's a place between heaven and hell where those who were left behind, unable to get into heaven, continue to suffer. A place of struggle and pain. In other words, the world that we're in now." - Vincent, Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' On Heaven's Door
Never Forgotten, Never Remembered
Our lives have been taken, but we are not allowed to die. If nobody knows we are gone, are we truly dead? Were we even living to begin with? Our hearts have long since stopped, along with our lungs, no longer granting us the breath of life. Yet the people we paid the ultimate price to protect believe we remain in the land of the living, performing our duty like the loyal soldiers that we are… that we were.
Does that make us ghosts? Does that make us all spectres clad in broken armor, forbidden to rest in peace due to the sheer fact that people just aren't aware of our absence?
After we sacrificed ourselves for the sake of their safety, they live on, oblivious. They shall never mourn those who should, but can't - and won't be mourned. Should we feel bitter for the lack of recognition? That all the pain we had endured for their sake went unnoticed - perhaps even ignored?
We were kidnapped at the age of seven. Our lives were decided for us; we would not grow old enough to know true free will. Then the weight of the world was dropped onto our shoulders. Responsibility like no other was suddenly committed to us, like a shackle. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just another example of how every so often, man tried his hand at playing God.
But what was done had been done. Whether we wanted to be or not, we were humanity's heroes. So be it. We did all that was asked of us and more. We've all killed for the sake of an order. Not for beliefs or morals. But for commands; we had killed for words. It was the only thing we knew how to do. It was all they taught us. Eventually, the reason we killed wasn't even for words.
It was for our survival.
Or should we be grateful that those we defended do not have to carry the burden of the loss of their supposedly unstoppable, nigh-immortal, green-armored champions? That their hope and pride can continue burning in their hearts, believing that somewhere in the stars, their steadfast Spartan guard them from extinction?
Are there any right answers to any of these questions? Should there be?
Do I even want to know? After all, they say ignorance is bliss. Perhaps even for the dead.
They also say hindsight is perfect. These words are especially true to a killed Spartan-II. 'A little step to the right,' 'one moment longer,' 'if only that perfect shot…' All the same. For all our training, all our enhancements, all the things that were supposed to make us better - we are still human. Still flesh and blood. Propaganda can do what it may to stir the emotions of the public but the fact of the matter is that even heroes bleed.
Even heroes die.
We aren't like those icons of history. Not at all. Memorials aren't erected for us. Our mythos isn't reinforced by some final, grand show of duty, honor, bravery, or any of the glorified words that attract so many. Because we aren't gone in their eyes. There is no last, finest hour to remember. Lies stand in our place, like empty suits of armor, and that's good enough for them.
I can't say the same for us.
Not that they would care, or should care. Why would they? They are happy, they are safe, they are "protected."
And we're dead.
Losing your life isn't the ultimate sacrifice. Neither is losing your respect, nor your identity. This is the loss of sheer existence, almost like we weren't born at all, but somehow being painfully aware of it. We aren't the proud, feared warriors we once were. We won't be lamented graves that we should be. We aren't even "Missing In Action" even though they say we are.
We just aren't there.
And they'll never know. They'll never know what we did for them or why. They'll never know who we were, the fellow human beings masked by the unfeeling, gold visors. They'll never know just how close the enemy really is to winning. But most of all, what eats and eats at our lost souls is that they'll never know what we lost for them.
Is this Purgatory? Or are we already in Hell?
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