An experiment into writing war horror, I first came up with the idea shortly after watching "Good...
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March 4th, 1980 Lower East Side, New York City 1:29 A.M. I can’t take it anymore. The constant flashbacks, I’ve been recording them for the past 3 days. My time in Dachau, the horrors on Highway 19, and the last place for me to feel useful, all gone. All forgotten, but the pain lingers in memories. I hated them, the Waffen SS, the Viet Cong…I hated how they tortured me, all the time, even when the past is gone. I heard Darkin’s voice in my head, Rindells too (HIS F*ING BRAIN.) I heard the screams of my mother as she burned in a fire pit. The glare of Rindell’s dead eyes, staring into mine. I have shared my story, and sent it to one of my old squadmates. He’ll know what to do with it, won’t you? I hope so. But now, its time for a rest. I will be set free, Hell no longer has a grip on me. I float freely.