Etched along the side of what remains of a tunnel was the phrase “One person doesn’t start a war,” which by all accounts made me chuckle. Maybe it is true, but there are just so many ways it could be. One of the diplomats could have conceded something to the other, but no, projection of strength was deemed more important.
The leader of the free world could have prevented the missiles from being fired, or better yet, the person holding the suitcase filled with the codes could have refused the President’s orders. Possibly, someone along the chain of command could have rejected the request to fire, but then again, they served at the pleasure of the commander-in-chief.
Maybe, just maybe, one of the two final people — those officers that have to turn the keys at the same time to launch the warheads — could have delayed turning their key. So many chances, so many individual decisions, that lead to one massive mistake.
Wow, I can’t remember the green tint grass had, only the radiating glow of fallout. And was water always so clouded with debris?
“One person doesn’t start a war,” sure. So many missed opportunities have led to my reality, and the world anyone left alive gets to call home. Home… all the houses were leveled by the shockwaves. I am honestly surprised this tunnel is still partially standing. And that word: war. There is no more peace; the world is a battleground with no side to call good or evil, all just fighting to live.
I cannot resent those that came before me. Their ashes are the payment for their mistakes — all I feel is pity for them, possibly envy. Their mistakes cost the lives of hundreds of millions, yet one individual on the other side could have refused to retaliate. If the retaliation never occurred, hundreds of millions would have been spared. If each country didn’t, in turn, join the unleashing of hell…well…
Enough of thinking of what once was; it is time to leave the decrepit tunnel anyway. Back into the orange mixture of ash and radiation-soaked mist. With a life made of moments, that etching is a reminder as to why I must walk off into the desolation ahead.
One person may not start a war, but they sure could have stopped one.
Evan Brooks is a third-year Business Management major with minors in Economics and Civil and Professional Leadership. EB916132@wcupa.edu