My friends brother had come home from the war. He had yet to see his nineteenth birthday. All he wanted to do was get fucked up and we were happy to oblige. So we took some pills and drank some drinks and had some drunken forgettable discussions.
Suddenly he became nervous and wouldn’t look us in the eye and asked if he could tell us something that was heavy on his mind. We said sure.
“When I was over there we captured this guy, beat him up and tortured him. He knew nothing. We had no use for him. We were screaming and he was crying and begging for his life. I had a gun to his head and my commanding officer told me if I wanted to, do it. And I did kind of want to, so I did. I blew his fucking head off.”
And then he took a long swallow of his beer, laughed a little and said “sorry about the buzz kill.”