Swords into Plowshares, Musings on Base

What if my base was turned over to an organization like Seeds of Peace, with the shooting ranges converted into greenhouses where nineteen year olds from both sides of the conflict could learn to understand, rather than kill, each other. Call me quixotic, out in the desert too long and in need of a refresher course on current political realities (anyone up for another trip to Damascus?).

Or listen as I tell you what crosses my mind as I stand around base and watch another generation of nineteen year old Israelis learn the finer points of civilized homicide. We train as we must and if I did not believe in the necessity of the IDF, I would not be jumping out of bed before dawn and throwing on my faded green uniform. And yet the mind muses evermore.