One day when you stand there, hiding behind not mattering to anyone, the war raging far away from you, and overseas, your own presence here will be an epithet or a dagger thrown back to your face.
And it will have found you.
And you will have known finally the value of rage and the value of speaking up for a just cause, especially when insults or knives scar your very own skin.
For either you must go to war or the war will find you.
Your conscience will have long forgotten its emptiness, and it will be clear to you what you’re doing there in the middle of this maelstrom of screams and explosions and missiles wooshing by and the cruel joker having a field day and laughing at the ignorance that brings men here and at everyone and at your having to hold defensive force in your hands and rations in a bag and war supplies on your back and the blood from neglected wounds sloshing around in your boots just to live.
For then the war will have finally found you.