I was standing on the Iraq-Saudi border watching hordes of B52s flying overhead and at the same listening to the BBC saying that smart fighter bombers were on their way to Baghdad. By this time the interviewer has had enough. This is becoming all too rational and there are some implications about the media massaging the message. I'll be damned if he's going to make a hero out of me. The interviewer does not like my answer.
All righteousness is fulfilled.
The closing music swells and the lights dim. He mentions something about it being a good interview. We shake hands and I walk out into the cool, clean night air and think of the family and the grandchildren and the hesitation that gnaws in my guts. How little the media understands what it is all about. I put my hands into my pockets and walk off to where the car is parked, wondering what it will be like in Bosnia and whether I really am stupid after all in going there.