Chapter 13: War Trophy

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Narration:

In ancient times, military victories were commemorated with displays of captured arms and other items. A trophy was originally a war memorial assembled from such items on a battlefield.

- Unknown

Narration:

"This is a good Jap—a dead one picked up on the New Guinea beach

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"This is a good Jap—a dead one picked up on the New Guinea beach." Natalie (woman inset), surprised at the gift, named it Tojo. 

- Life Magazine, May 22, 1944.

Flashback

20XX

F.O.B Ramrod

Maywand District, Kandahar Province, Afghanistan

Sargeant Joseph Alinea

3rd Platoon, Bravo Company

(Barracks, Interior)

Joseph: ( looks at his trophy, a part of the SKULL CAP of the unknown man brutally killed few weeks prior, he begins to polish it with a rag. He touches the trophy gently, feeling its texture. )

Ssgt Givens: These people they're "savages".  (shows joseph a picture of the young boy taken from La Mohammed Kalay. It shows him (Ssgt givens), playfully posed with the corpse of the teenager "as if it was a puppet".) Fucking Hilarious...

Joseph: (looks at Ssgt givens, then returns to polish his prized possession) Fucking A. Sir.

Ssgt Givens: Sargeant. From here on out, We are... The Kill Team. Take note sarge. That's gonna be our callsign from now on.

Joseph: Kill team? Is this one of you're big brain, bright ideas sir? (Sarcastically)

Ssgt Givens: You know it sargeant (smirks) (finger guns)

Joseph: Whatever,  staff sargeant. If you say so.  (Returns in polishing his trophy).

(A soldier carrying various medical equipment enters the barracks)

Sgt Brennan: (interrupts the two) Is that, what I think it is? (Stunned)

Joseph: Yup. You guessed it, it's part of that guys skull. (Smiles)

Sgt Brennan: Dude that's sick . I like it. (Laughs)

Joseph: For a fucking doctor, you got one messed up mind. (Chuckles)

Sgt Brennan: To be honest with you man, we're in hell. We're already fucking dead. (shows his necklace of human ears).

Joseph: ... Fuckkk..

Narration:

(Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.)

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