The current ratio of dead civilians to combatants is only 2:1, my dad says. It is considered normal when each soldier has four dead to their one. Two is nothing—a string of bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time. They should have planned more carefully. Should have followed the rules, followed the sirens. I passed my parents' neighbor today felling trees in the field with his son. I remember when he was born, when they carried him home. I watched them slowly make additions to their home: a new garage, a new John Deere, a work van, and now, today, an excavator. His son was bent at the waist, receding hairline in view. I wonder if he has children of his own, if he would consider it genocide. My neighbor offered to cut down the tree limbs on the dogwood out front. They encroached over his property, over the Jeep he paid more for than his own home. He told me if I ever need anything to let him know, ...
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