The Dream
The dream began…
with us somewhere in the Pacific.
We were back on the Japanese Islands during WW2, desperately trying to clear this island of enemy forces, just as we had been doing since Guadalcanal.
Those of us who made it off the deadly beachhead, struggled up yet another volcanic mountainside.
As usual it was now quiet as we pulled ourselves up through the dense foliage seeking to spot the enemy before they zeroed in on us.
Ha… what a joke, as always the Japs knew exactly where we were the whole time; peeking out from their little hidyholes dug into the mountain itself.
Dug in deep, dark and strong, covered with vegetation so that only small slits opened for them to see us, while we blindly passed right by them continuing up the mountainside. 
This gave the enemy a position behind our front lines so that now we faced fire from ahead and above as well as from behind and below.
Pow pow pow … ratatat tat ratatat tat …
Machine gun fire opened up ahead of us laying down a withering blanket of deadly fire that eliminated our point man and those around him.
Small arms fire by snipers we walked past took out our rear guard with careful aim.
Gentlemen – welcome to hell… hell on earth.
Suddenly – after several explosions of enemy mortar fire around us, a thick cloud-like mist settled upon the ground. It was thick and dark and blocked out any vision we had going forward as a shroud of blackness covered our rear and backside completely.
From this mist arose a deep, rushing roar of sounds, the sounds of war; tank engines came alive, machine gun fire scorched our ears, mortars and artillery blasted ahead.
I hugged the ground like everyone else and sought to melt into the darkened, blood stained volcanic ash and sand beneath me.
What manner of being is this?!
It was all of our physical resources sounding off and reaching our ears while engaging the enemy for us, like a separate and whole division of fresh start Marines.
We could hear the sounds of war all around us but now this time it wasn’t us being laid away. No – oh no…
It was these stinking fanatical Japanese soldiers being taken out by our… by our… by our what?!
In the cloud formed by this mist you could barely make out dozens no hundreds of Marines charging forward, taking out the machine gunner positions ahead.
Eliminating the multiple snipers from behind, clearing the way for us to rise up from the ground and move ahead as we had been trained to do countless times back on Parris Island, in The States.
… and that’s what we did.
The mighty force that had risen in the cloud, slowly receded as we proceeded. Ha. No joke.
We took that Island and as we did, not one more man was lost as we reached the top and finished mopping up procedures. It was as though we had just walked through Central Park and not the hailstorm of a forceful, fanatical and suicidal enemy, who were determined to die with honor, for the Emperor no less. 
That’s right- to die for the Emperor was now each Japanese soldiers aim, his goal, for they knew now that the Island was lost but they were determined to take as many American soldiers as possible.
Ten for one, they were told and instructed, commanded to do. Take out ten American lives for each one of them. Anything to protect their homeland- the Island of Japan.
Snap – In an instant I opened my eyes and rose from my bed.
I was awake now in a pool of warm sweat over my head and across my body.
In my nostrils, the smell of burning flesh lingered. In my ears the roaring sounds of hell on Earth – war, reverberated as my present day senses slowly took hold and I roused myself from this memory, this, dream that seemed so real, as they all did now, as real as the day is Long, some might say.
I shook with unexpelled energy as the adrenaline retreated from my body to its original source, surely to be called upon again to fight another battle, on another day, whether in a dreamy trance-like state or maybe for real, at least for real in the mind of this soldier who came home.
This soldier who was “lucky” enough to see it through to the end so that he could return to his loved ones, to see and to live the future life that he could only imagine and hope for back on that Island in those days.
“A Day of Infamy” is what President Roosevelt called it. A day of days to be remembered.
Yet now, for this Marine, a new day has begun.
Yes a new day has begun.
When Synapses Go Bad 