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Sure, some may call you a monster, but whose fault is this thing you have become? They took you off the farm as a boy and hurled you crying into the bloodiest war in history. And just when you learned to hear the music in the bombs and see the impressionist beauty in the crimson smear of an exploded Italian, they told you to stop! War's over, Johnny! Pack it up, they said! Go home to the wife, they said! Home? Whose home is that, exactly?! The only home you've ever known is the ululating howl of a man meeting his own guts for the first time, and the closest thing you've got to a wife is your necklace of ears.

Well, maybe now the fatcats in Washington say it's illegal to shove a man named Fritz inside the barrel of a Howitzer, pull the trigger and hold yourself a wet confetti parade, but that doesn't mean the bloodlust goes away, does it? Stop killing Germans, says Gary Government! Well, nature's your German now, friend, and maybe it's time she learned a little something about wartime. Starting with that bit about how there's no innocence on a battlefield ...