I see a young soldier, he looks barely 18 to me, he has got fear in his eyes, but he has one goal... to get glory and honour... I see him, going through his training, a hard routine, 20 press-ups followed by 30 crunches, then an hour jogging, and then more push-ups, by the end of the day, he is completely worn out. But it’s all for the prize at the end of his career.

Then I look at this soldier a couple years later... he is fighting in Afghanistan, against a foe which he has been taught to hate... he’s never seen any Afghans but he, nevertheless, believes they are evil. Then I see him doing one great act of bravery, running into a group of Afghan soldiers with nothing but his stone heart and his gun, he is shot, but not before he is able to take a few enemies down. As he lies there bleeding to death on the battle field, he thinks to himself that he has done that great brave deed which will finally bring him that honour which he so much deserves, and then he thinks of his family and friends at home, and how proud they are going to be of him... and while thinking these thoughts, he breathes his last expiring breath, and he leaves this world never to return.

The soldier gets his glory in the end, his medals are sent to his grieving family, but he is not alive to see how proud they really are of him... That soldier did a grand thing, greatly to be admired and so rare in these times... but was this great sacrifice really worth it for the glory?