That’s An Order

In this monologue from the play, “That’s An Order”, James, a veteran in his 40s, grappling with the aftermath of his service in a recent conflict, confesses to another war veteran, Aaqel, how he feels about the war and his part in it.

JAMES: War. It’s a machine. A cold, heartless machine. And you and I were nothing but cogs in it. Pawns moved across a chessboard by hands stained with greed and ambition.

I remember Kandahar, the blistering heat, the endless sand. We were told we were heroes, liberating a land, fighting for justice. What a bunch of horsesh’t! Bullets don’t bring justice, they bring death. And for what? For the agendas of men in suits, worlds away from the bloodshed.

I lost friends, good men. There was Michael Stover, barely 19, full of dreams, full of life. Cut down in an ambush near Kabul. And for what? A line in a politician’s speech? A footnote in history?

You and I, we’re not so different. I bet you’ve got names too, faces that haunt your dreams. Young men from your side, lost in the same valleys, the same dusty streets. We were all just boys and girls, sent to fight an old man’s war.

The lives we took, the futures we shattered. Not just ours, but those we left behind. Families torn apart, children growing up without dads. Without moms. The pain we brought. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could sleep at night. I wish I could say, “I’m sorry”, and for it to mean something.

And now, here we are, two men, carrying the weight of this while the world has moved on. No one gives a f’ck.

Our governments may celebrate our victories, but we know the truth. There is no victory in war, only loss. Loss that we carry, every day, until our final breath.

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