Old Habits

Well, here I sit looking out of the bars of my cell watching the world go by. I have had a good life. My Mum and Dad are still together. My Dad was a war veteran back in 2003, served his country. Got a medal for saving his squad in a firefight. I can still remember seeing the movie of the camp commander pining it onto his coat and saying, "You saved many lives that day." He spent the next two years over there. I was never lonely as I had many brothers and sisters to play with on a large farm.

When I came of age I joined the army in 2006.

The drill instructor marched us out onto the parade ground, lining us up and said, "What you are joining is the best of the best, after I have finished with you, you will be the deadliest animals to face the enemy."

"You McMaster's, I knew your father, if you are half the animal he was you'll win the war by yourself."

We began our training to mould our bodies and brains into those of the deadly animals the drill instructor told us we would become.

In my training we were taught to knock the person down, then attack the groin, throat or eyes as this was the quickest way to stop somebody. We trained like this till it became second nature, and we moved into this attack pattern on instinct.

My training seemed to fly by and I was soon posted to the same squad that my father had served in.

On a day patrol we came to enter a house, intelligence believed to have insurgents inside. We surrounded the house. Me and two others entered through the front door. As we checked the room I sensed movement to the left. I turned and a man was pulling the pin on a hand grenade and tossed it in our direction. A flash and sharp stinging pains washed over my body, and then darkness. When I opened my eyes, I saw the man looking down at my two friends shooting them in the face. He then turned and smiled at me and raised his gun. I tried to move but nothing seemed to work, I looked into his eyes and waited for the bang. Next thing I heard was the rest of the squad moving into the room. The man ran out the back door.

A medic patched me up and sent me to the aid station where they worked to remove the shrapnel and stop the bleeding.

Two months later I was back home, recovered in body, but I was still seeing the man's eyes every time I closed my eyes to sleep. I then got the news I would be getting a discharge from the service as I had healed, but never healed enough for active service again.

I was debriefed, given training for a civilian life and given one last psychological test to make sure I had lost those killer instincts and would be able to cope in the world.

I moved back onto the farm with my parents for a little while.

I then met a lovely girl and moved in with her on my parent's farm. Even the eyes of the man had stopped disturbing my sleep.

The next couple of years were some of the best; I started my own family, got a good job in security at the docks.

Then one day I saw something which brought me to here.

I saw the eyes of the man who attacked and killed my friends. A red mist descended on me and my instincts kicked back in. I was moving before I released I was, and by that time I had decided to go with it. I hit him at full speed knocking him to the ground and bit into his throat.

I found out later it had taken four men to rip me off his throat and subdue me.

The man died of massive blood loss.

The real kick in the guts came when I was told the government had allowed him into the country because he turned informer on the insurgents.

My family's lawyer tried to argue momentary insanity. Some of the men from my old squad came as character witnesses. The judge ruled against me and ordered me to be executed for my heinous crime.

Now you know my story and why I sit in this cell at the Queenpark Dog Shelter waiting for the man to come and lead me to the room at the end of the hall.

I guess some old habits die hard!

RCSA1