He said, “War is never

a good thing.” That was

my grandfather, who had

spoken to me words of

the wisdom that comes from

experience. He had fought

in the second world war,

a pawn in the game of

cats and mice run by the

powers that be, who ruled

the roost in his day. We

might, I suppose, blindly pay

allegiance to a flag and a

nation’s military like the days

of old, whence nostalgia gets

its memories; but my grand-

father, a man of his day and

a true soldier, warns against

abiding by blind trust, even

in one’s own country–the one

for which he fought like

a person fighting against evil,

the scourge of the earth, which

arose from Nazis and fascists

who were seeking to establish

an everlasting kingdom. But

war is never a good thing, my

grandfather told me. The loss,

the dismembermentation, the

mayhem and destruction, result-

ing from all the violence engend-

ered against the poor pawns

of the lever-moving, power-

wielding elite, who care only

for power, prestige, and privilege,

while all we pawns are moved

about like pieces on a board,

unwittingly, unknowingly, un-

beknownst to us, as we move

forward, left, right, backward,

diagonally, or in a hook.