from http://cryptome.org/
In war, medics are forced to deal with things that others would turn away from. Whether it’s watching the life fade from someone’s eyes or enduring the vomit inducing smell of charred skin, medics have to stand strong. You see, medics have a solemn pact that we have made with the infantrymen, scouts, tankers… combat troops who protect us: If you are brave in the face of the enemy, medics will be brave in the face of the Grim Reaper.
What can you do but look stare at this interloper, this person who is trying to rip you out of your moment into his linear time? You see, I believe that living is more important than dying. One cannot control whether they are to die or even when they are to die. Life is Russian Roulette and whether the bullet that strikes you down is old age, smoking a cigar, a car crash, or simply a bullet cannot be controlled.
As ironic as this may sound, on October 2001 I enlisted in the Army as a medic in order to go and kill the terrorists who had attacked my country. I could swaddle my motives with the flag, patriotism, and Gi-Joe BS, but the reality for me was, you hurt my country, I wanted to hurt you.
