We refuel in Alaska acquired from a Czar then again in Japan home to cultish Emperor Worship.
We travel to thwart Communist aggression.
I program myself to accept I am already dead. Still, I’ll take some Charlie with me.
My seatmate babbles about his girlfriend, his blocked-up car, and what he’ll do with twelve month’s hazardous duty pay.
I ask if he’s read Mark Twain’s, The War Prayer.
He says no.
I strive to convince my seatmate to set his mind right.
Bitter anguish will likely be his portion.