Why I joined?
Because I wouldn't have the fancy scrap of paper on my wall that says I'm educated without Uncle Sam. Not just the fact that I grew up in a country where education is a priority, but to go higher I barely had to pay a dime out of pocket. Grants, loans, scholarships; I've had them all. And the vast, vast majority of them came straight from the government in one way or another.
I didn't earn them. Passing the requirements for having them "awarded" doesn't fucking count. I was all but given them.
In other words, I owe Uncle Sam. And I pay what I owe.
Because I'm a fucking good fighter. I've been involved in martial arts almost since I could walk, and been shooting since I was old enough to aim. I've had over a decade to mull over the ramifications of taking a life. I made my choice where that is concerned a long time ago, and I go home and sleep peacefully at night. Better me than some wide-eyed kid with stirring war movies in his head.
Because I believe the United States of America is the greatest form of self-government and advocate for freedom known to exist anywhere, anytime in history. And because I believe it is worth fighting to keep it that way.
Because I never want to see an American artist hold themselves back because of fear. I believe there is an international war going on between the free west and A faction that would see it collapse. Radical Islam, Muslim Fanaticism, call it what you like, it's there. And I see it drawing blood in the art world. The art world of Europe is already trembling from it: The German Opera, The cartoonists in Denmark and Sweden, the murder of Theo Van Gogh in Amsterdam, the list goes on and on.
And I NEVER want to see such a thing happen in America. If an American artist has to hold their tongue or stay their pen, then let them do so for worthy reasons: because their patron disapproves, because its in bad taste, because it doesn't work for their audience, because it doesn't contribute to the work as a whole. But NEVER out of fear that some obsessed douchebag will murder them in broad daylight for their work. That's what happened to Van Gough. Poor bastard made a documentary about domestic violence in the Arab world. Some sick fuck ambushed him in broad daylight. Van Gogh was shot, then nearly beheaded. A long, handwritten diatribe of Van Gogh's crimes against Islam was stapled to his chest with a butcher knife. His murderer has admitted his deeds in open court with pride. All because he made a fucking movie.
Because I swore an oath. One of the things that really disappoints me nowadays is the fact that someone's given word is effectively meaningless. Words of Honor, vows, oaths, affidavits, sworn statements; all of them are given little to no standing at all. I want them to mean something. Romantic Idealism? Maybe. But something to strive for. And the only way to lead that trend is by example. Hence, MY word fucking means something. And when I raised my hand and swore to serve, defend, and obey, my other reasonings were hardly neccessary. I swore an oath. And I will uphold it until I am released from that oath or this life.
I'm not going to do it forever. In the near future my duty will be done. I will turn in my uniforms and machine gun, exchanging them for costumes and blunt swords. I'll make the transition from making history to telling stories of it. And pray to what Gods are listening that my children never have to do what I have.