Whoa yourself! You missunderstood! My ENTIRE reason for saying that killing is never justifiable is because of my profound dislike of it, and my dislike of it is solely caused by the suffering and pain it causes others.
I think a short story will help me describe my overall message.
Imagine that your brother, sister, son, daughter, or maybe even father has gone to war. Let's use Father as the example.........
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Your father, John, is a simple working man; let's say a softwar debugger. Day in and day out he fixes software problems to feed and support his family. As soon as he hears about the War On Terror he begins to think to himself; "All my life I've wanted something to fight for, something to drive me." This seems like exactly the "something" he always wanted. Reluctantly, you mother gives him the OK on his idea because she knows how important this is to him. You on the other hand are very worried about him; your father has been a hero to you for a long time and you don't like the possibility of losing him forever.
***Part 2
It is an honorable mission, and you and your family are very proud of him. He left training camp after a short two weeks of basic weapons and tactics training and is now off to Iraq to fight the good fight. While in Iraq, John forms a bond with his squad like no other. They all feel that they have known each other for years, but have only been introduced in the previous week. One day, he and his squad finally see action erupt. It is extremely intense; explosions are booming from many directions, and gunfire is ringing throughout the streets of a small town. John gets orders to lead a small group of four ahead to scout for an ambush or any insurgents. He and his four companions trot down one street, turn left, and trot down another. Right before he is about to make a right at the next street, he hears a strange sound; a sound he recognizes from a few movies he's seen recently. It almost sounds like.....
"GET DOWN!!!", bellows a private among the five.
***Part 3
Before John can react, an explosion directly above where he and his team are standing knocks all of them off their feet. Rubble and cement falls onto their helmets, knocking all of them of them unconscious. What seems to be seconds later, John wakes up with a jolt. He hears men yelling in the near distance, but cannot make out what they are saying. Extreme disorientation floods his body and mind and it is hard to discern the yelling from the overwhelming ringing from inside his head. The rat-i-tat-tat begins and he immediately knows who's yelling. He realizes that he has been in an ambush, and he surveys the situation. "Four unconscious, four injured",make that five, he thinks to himself. I can't forget myself. John realizes he is in a bad situation; there are four friendlies hurt, and a small group of insurgents on their way. His choices: call for a medic and backup and try to secure the position until they arrive, this is unlikely to succed; or call for a medic and and backup, try to make it to safety, and hope the medic gets to the friendlies before the insurgents do. Easy decision, he says to himself, and smiles at his situation.
***Part 4
John looks around for anything that could help him. The building next to him has a giant hole where an upstairs wall should be. Perfect. He walks over to the door and moves to knock on it. He stops, smiles once again, and just opens the door. It appears to have been abandonded for quite some time, probably from all the constant fighting. John hurries up the stairs, finds a good spot, and kneels down on the edge of the giant hole in the wall. He checks his M4; clean, sturdy, and a scope rests quietly on top. A good gun, he thinks to himself. After only about 45 seconds or a minute, he sees a small group of insurgents carrying AK-47s cautiously jogging towards where his team lays helpless. One of them has another type of weapon though, an RPG launcher swung over his back. John lines up his M4, closes one eye, peers through the scope.....
***Interlude
Meanwhile, at home, your family has been a wreck. Constant news of soldiers coming home in caskets, and others coming home with missing limbs has flooded the news. Luckily, some squads have returned home to safety, but there has been no sign of your father. Your mother seems to have taken up drinking again, if only in small doses. Your little sister seems constantly depressed but won't talk about it. Everything about the war seems to disgust you, because it reminds you of the blunt fact that you may never see your father again. Life is terrible.
***Part 5
Clack, Clack-clack-clack. John fires a few precise rounds, instantly killing two, wounding one in the chest. More yelling erupts from the small group, and the man with the RPG is reloading. His heart sinks. What seems like several hundred rounds goes by him as he dives out of the way. There are no options if he fires that RPG. More yelling occurs, but it sounds more distressed than before. A reassuring noise echos through the streets; the sound of an M4 firing multiple times. The sounds of American voices echos along with the M4s.
"John! Are you here!", his captain yells.
"I'm alright, there's 4 friendlies in need of medical attention under some of the rubble!", John responds, "Oh, there's also one hostile that is badly wounded and needs medical attention first!"
"We'll get to him last, if we get to him at all!", sounds the captain, in a way that makes John's stomach turn.
***Part 6
The captain orders John to hold his position and fire upon any and all insurgents that come by, he assigns 3 men to take up similar positions in adjacent buildings. Reluctantly, John gets comfortable and waits for enemies to appear. It happens sooner than he would have wished, but it's much worse than he expected. Ten maybe fifteen insurgents armed with either AK47s or--John's heart sinks again--M4s. Anger wells up inside of him but he knows that if he engages them, he will surely die. His radio chirps with the voice of one of the other watchmen in the adjacent buildings.
"Do you see what they're carrying? We HAVE to do something, John!"
"I know, I see it too.", John replies with a hopeless tone.
"Well?!"
"You and I both know it would be suicide to engage!", replies John with a slightly annoyed tone.
"What if we call in? I'm sure if we explained the situation they'd--"
"Well if we did that of course they would come; but I have a bad feeling about it, don't call in--That's an order.", John says sternly.
There is no response. The insurgents have marched on, and John is glad to see them go.
***Part 7
Minutes pass that seem like hours, and there is no noise except the faint rat-i-tat-tat of AK-47s in the distance. John begins to think that the fighting is done for today. And this thought pleases him very much. All of a sudden, without warning, a rocket soars from the side of John's view and hits one of the adjacent buildings, crumbling it in on itself. His stomach lurches when he realizes that there were two friendlies in that building. Fear and panic take over while he fumbles for his M4. The infamous yelling begins, and John realizes that the original group of ten or fifteen has returned, and they know he's there. He can see them now; the man with the RPG, reloading. John radios his captain about the situation and luckily he is only a block away. Seconds later the loud echoing Crack of a large rifle is heard, and one of the insurgents drops dead. John can see his squad now, and his captain leading them. They all take cover behind garbage cans and various cars. The man with the RPG is reloading now. John take a couple shots into the small group of insurgents and kills one, Clack, clack. The man with the RPG fires and a loud BOOM is what follows. Another anonymous RPG is fired and the same BOOM is what follows it. John's heart seems to jump rope when he hears this.
***Part 8
John creaks his head out to look where the rockets exploded. Horror is the only emotion John feels when he sees his former squad strewn across the pavement; bits and pieces, limbs, but mostly blood. He thinks he can almost see a familiar head lying all alone. John forces back the urge to vomit only with the immediate rage that overcomes him at that very moment. He positions himself so that when they come up the stairs, he'll be waiting. John reloads his M4, sets it from sing-shot to full-auto and places his pistol next to him on the floor. John feels mixed emotions; on one hand, he is full of anger and resolve; on the other hand, he is scared shitless. The yelling gets closer and he hears footsteps coming up the cement stairs. He tightens his grip on his M4, his hands and brow sweating profusely.
***Part 9
The rest happens in a split second.
A head appears with a body and AK-47 pointing right at him--Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack--the insurgent falls backwards. More soldiers come--Clack-clack-clack-clack--another falls. John isn't thinking anymore, he is feeling. He quickly reloads. Another appears, this one gets to him faster--Rat-i-tat-tat--John feels the bullets dig deep into his Kevlar vest--Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack--the soldier falls. This time two appear simultaneously--Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack--Rat-i-tat-tat--Rat-i-tat-tat--He is shot in his left arm and both legs. John is surprised at not being shot in the head, yet. He begins to wish it--Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack--more come and fall to his M4--Click, click--John tosses the gun aside and picks up his sidearm. Pack, Pack-Pack. What seems to be the last soldier falls. There is no noise, but John can't hear anyway; his ears are still ringing.
***Part 10
John is in a surreal state; he has been shot numerous times, and he has shot and killed 17 men in the last 2 hours. At what seems like the most random time, he thinks about his family. His dog, his friends back home rooting for him. Why did he let them down? Why?.....Why?..................................................................................................
John drifts off into a deep sleep. But he does not wake up.
***Part 11 (Finale)
Approximately two weeks later, the doorbell rings. Your mother answers the door. You hear talking, and your mother seems distressed. Shortly after, your mother drags herself into the living room where both you and your sister are watching television. She quietly asks you to turn off the TV, you do so. For the next five minutes she reads a letter that is the saddest and longest letter you have ever heard, even thought it is only one page long. She reads it once more, then bursts into tears on the last sentence. Your husband is a hero. A medal hangs off of a leather strap along the side of the letter. For the next month, the whole family mourns. But even after the funeral, life wasn't the same without your hero.