#he's gonna bludgeon them to death during school hours

[softquietsteadylove]

love the Thenamesh 10 Things (I Hate About You) AU, can we have some more

"Lookin' for someone, sweetheart?"

She knew it was a mistake to come here. Thena rolled her eyes, "the person in question is not you, if that's what you're implying."

"Well, you look pretty far from home," yet another metal shop monkey leapt down from working on the back of a truck to approach her. "You must be here for something."

"Nothing with which I need your assistance," she barked at them, but the garage boys were far less intimidated by her hissing and snarling than usual prep boys. She curled in on herself more but held her shoulders straight, her purse on her shoulder and a hoodie clasped in her hands in front of her.

"No?" the first one circled in closer, like a jaguar circling its prey. "Try me, sweetheart."

"Kind offer," she snapped at him, leaning away from his imposing body language (and odour). "I'll pass."

"How 'bout me, then?"

"What about me, princess?"

"Do not call me that!" She moved forward to hiss at that one right in his face. The rest of them laughed. She had walked too willingly into the wolf den.

"She's fiery, boys!"

"I'll be going, since none of you can assist me," she huffed, ready to turn up her nose and walk out."

"Not so fast, sweetie pie," the first one slapped his hand over the door frame, blocking her exit. "What kinda hosts would we be if we didn't even offer the lady some refreshments?"

"I do not want anything the likes of you enjoy."

"Not even a beer?" he laughed right in her face, back to encroaching on her personal space. "Cig? How 'bout the roofie special?"

"Leave her alone."

Thena backed up until she hit something solid, hands steadying her at the arms. She looked up, unsurprised to see the lower jaw of a familiar face. "Gil?"

"Back the fuck up, all of you," he directed the rest of the boys in the shop, still holding Thena by the shoulders. "She's not here for you."

"So, this is Gil's little princess, huh?"

"Come on," he whispered to her, refusing to dignify the animals' howls with a response. He led her out of the darkened garage and into the sun, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she scowled, adjusting her purse on her shoulder as soon as they were in the sun again. "I cannot believe they are offered employment."

"Well, they're not really," Gil answered her unasked question. "The owner does employ you if you're good, but mostly the garage is open for you to do your own work, if you bring your own parts and stuff. That's why they all hang out there."

Thena tilted her head, eyeing him, "I didn't imagine that was the crowd you ran with."

"I don't," he scowled at even the implication of it. He eyed her in return, "what are you doing here, anyway?"

Her back straightened and she huffed, "looking for you."

"Okay," he walked closer to her, his hand at her back, guiding her further still from the shady garage, "but why, Princess?"

Thena gripped the hoodie in her hands, "to return what is yours, of course."

"Hm."

"What?" she snapped at him, but he didn't even reach for the hoodie of his in her hands. "You did state that I could keep it last we met. Now I'm returning it!--or have manners of even that level escaped you?"

But Gilgamesh didn't rise to any of her snapping or sniping. He looked her over again, as if he could read her like a completely open book. "No."

"No?" she balked. "N-No?!"

"No, that's not why you're here," he chuckled, resuming walking whether she was following him or not. "You wouldn't go this out of your way for that thing."

Thena gripped it tighter and trotted a few steps to catch up with him. "Oh, and you know me so very well!"

"I know you pretty well by now, your ladyship," he chuckled right in her face. His teeth looked fine--maybe he hadn't smoked for that long before they met. "And that is not something you would do just to return some stupid sweater."

Thena twisted it in her hands, and Gil really didn't seem to care. She shifted on her feet and he raised his eyebrows at her. "I need a ride."

"Whassit?" he held his hand to his ear and leaned forward (bastard). "Can't hear you!"

She huffed, feeling the sting of indignity in her cheeks, "my car is in the shop and Sersi is at Dane's, can I please have a ride?"

"Oh, I see," he snickered, enjoying the idea of her being indebted to him already. "Your Highness needs a ride from li'l ol' Gilgamesh, eh?"

"Never mind," she growled, tossing his hoodie at his stupid wide chest, "I'll walk."

"Hey!"

Gil caught the hoodie against him with one hand, grasping her by the waist with the other. His face lost the gleeful smile he'd had a minute ago. "You're not walking all the way home alone."

She glared at him, making a point of wrenching herself away from him, "you've no need for the veil of chivalry. It is broad daylight, I'm sure I'll be-"

"You're not, Thena," he repeated, moving into her space again.

She gave him her most withering glare, "I don't need you."

He met her icy stare with his own, "no, 'cause you don't need anyone, right Princess?"

She pulled herself away from him again, wrapping her arms around herself, "forget it."

"Thena," he called after her, but she kept walking. "Thena!"

She huffed at herself; she knew she shouldn't have come looking for him. Not this time, and not that time on the beach either. So, why did she keep doing it?

"Thena, please."

She turned, maybe shocked because she wasn't sure if she could remember hearing 'please' from that mouth of his before.

"Please," he repeated, entirely serious and holding his arm out for them to cross the street, "Thena."

She sighed, adjusting her purse again. "Fine."

Gil waited until she was beside him again to even start walking. He hold the balled up hoodie in his hand, "you can keep this, y'know--if you want."

She eyed the hoodie she had actually been wearing in the comfort of her room for the past several weeks. "It's yours."

"Consider it yours."

"What if I don't want it?"

"Too bad."

Thena let him lay the thing over her shoulders again, trying to tell herself it wasn't familiar or comforting or nice and warm. "If you insist."

#Thenamesh 10 Things AU #Gil goes back to the garage and they're like hey Gil did you fuck her? #he picks up a wrench and tells them that if they ever so much as look at her again #he's gonna bludgeon them to death during school hours #but no she's not his girlfriend #he just saw a head of blonde hair and ran out of the break room like his ass was on fire #he calls a few shops and finds out which one her car is in #he tells them to put a rush order on it #or he's going to tie the owner's son to the football post at the school and leave him there overnight #Thena gets it back like huh that was fast well okay #Sersi asks her how she got home the other day #knowing damn well she went to ask Gil for a drive #Thena says oh y'know... #that's it #she told Gil to drop her off at the corner so her father didn't come rushing out #demanding to know whose car she had been in #he rolled his eyes but said fine okay #she said thank you and left #but he watched her zip his hoodie up before she went inside #and Arishem has asked whose sweater that is #Thena says she...bought it #a men's medium hoodie...for herself #Sersi says Father it's called fashion

[hyaenagallery]

Tyler Hadley had always been a problem child. During his teenage years he began skipping school, taking drugs, had been in trouble for arson, and was on house arrest for burglary. Tyler also had mental health problems. His parents took him to a psychiatrist and an outpatient mental health and substance abuse program. On July 16, 2011 in Port St. Lucie, Florida, Tyler asked his parents if he could throw a party at their house. When his parents declined, he became enraged. Shortly before 5:00 p.m., Tyler took his parents' cell phones. He took three pills of ecstasy and then went to his parents' room. He stood behind hus mother, Mary-Jo, while she worked at a computer for five minutes and then began to beat her to death with a hammer. Hearing Mary-Jo's screams, his father, Blake, rushed to the scene and saw Tyler. They stared at each other for several moments before he then beat his father to death. Tyler spent three hours cleaning up the blood and hid their bodies in the master bedroom. Some time after the murders, Tyler made a Facebook post letting people know that he was having a party that night. The post said, "Don't worry, parents won't be here." His friends knew he was practically grounded by his parents, Mary Jo and Blake Hadley, but when they asked how he was gonna throw his massive bash if they were still around or came home, Hadley coldly replied on the social networking site, "they won't, trust me." He drove to an ATM and then picked up some friends. About 60 people gathered at his house for the party, playing beer pong, smoking cigars and drinking. He took selfies and posted them on social media. Friends described Hadley as being in a good mood and hospitable during the party. One friend said Hadley had planned to hold a second bash the following night. That night Tyler told his best friend, Michael Mandell, that he bludgeoned his parents with a hammer. He showed Michael a bloody footprint in the garage and then took him to the master bedroom where he showed him the bloody crime scene and his parents bodies. News of the crime was then spread through the party by word of mouth. #destroytheday https://www.instagram.com/p/ByAxaLphkpl/?igshid=1v5lcgla4pj8v

#destroytheday

[xpwewarchive]

XPWEW Friday Night Pyro (5-15-2020)

Episode: 426 Date: May 15th, 2020 Network: VICE Location: Los Angeles, California Building: The Barracks

Opening Segment: XPWEW World Heavyweight Champion Golden Bryce! Before he can speak into the microphone

Enters his mentor Masato Tanaka Masato: Young Man. Youth. Oh to be young. Golden Bryce. Or should I call you G-Baby? chuckles. 8 days. You have eight whole days to prepare for Ruckus on the biggest stage anyone in that locker room has competed in. I’ve had great Lockdown moments. I’ve had some I’d like to forget as well, And I know you do cause one year ago you sent me a text and 1 in the morning merely hours before your Lockdown 6 match with Jake Awesome and you asked me: What am I gonna do tomorrow? Well Bryce I don’t know and by the looks of it you didn’t either. You lost. You walked in a champion and walked out with nothing. And fast forward one year. You walk in AGAIN as world champion. Do I??? Do I think you’re gonna walk out with that same world title? I. Don’t. Know..... I don’t know if I see passion? I don’t know if I see will? Tears? Blood? Sweat? Do you know that Ruckus is 3-0 at Lockdown? Did you know that? He even beat me? So believe me! I know he’s a different breed. But Bryce you’re special too, it takes a special person to get back to that spot only one man before has done that and it was Jake Awesome. Maybe last year you just got a bad draw, you drew a bad hand. Maybe just maybe last year you fought the greatest champion in the history of this sport. But Bryce let me tell ya brother Ruckus should not be overlooked. His punches feel like kicks. His kicks feel like despair. And he isn’t looking for good sportsmanship. He’s looking to bludgeon you next Saturday... You can’t reason with Ruckus And so help me if you try to shake that god damn hand of his, like he’s got any respect for you or anybody. He doesn’t! So don’t bring that bullshit, don’t reach out your hand. Look at me! Look at me when I’m talking to you. You have to be ruthless. Ruckus is not gonna wait, he’s gonna be looking for a fair fight for God Sake’s look at the impressionable youth he surround himself with? The Set? Oh to be young again! Ruckus is starving. He’s starving emotionally. His life is a train wreck and He needs the validation of that world title. The man can’t even stay clean and out of prison long enough to have a world title feud. It’s why he’s never had one. So Bryson don’t look for a fair 50% 50% game of chess. You are playing chemical warfare in 8 days. So I don’t want no smiles and handshakes and hugs. NO MORE! Your social media? You’re making Tik Tok dance videos with your pregnant wife? You’re hiring dance crews and school marching bands to do your entrance FUCK THAT BULLSHIT. Do you know how much egg is gonna be on your face when you get all the fireworks, all the bells and whistles and you LOSE. You think Ruckus wanted this? You think he has an ounce of passion for this business. 3 months ago he was eating his meals through the slit of a metal door. He’s an animal. So you have to bring out a different version of Golden Bryce on the 23rd of May. Because if you don’t....if you.......... coughs If you bring THIS Golden Bryce to Lockdown 7. You’re gonna get your ass handed to you..... Do shape up! or ship out! And never come back because if you don’t take this advice your gonna look like the biggest bust in XPWEW history. Am I understood? Golden Bryce (looks at Tanaka in Eyes with a cold dead blank stare, then off into the stands. Bryce looks down at the title around his waist and then walks out of the ring) ((Bryce saunters up the ramp)) (((The Set runs past him: Myron, Kotto, Jordan, Chrissy, Lexoni and this Ruckus who slowly walks past Bryce making eye contact)))

The Set start to beat down Masato Tanaka but Bryce still standing at the halfway spot on the ramp just watches the beatdown of his mentor??????

Ruckus holding a steel chair as Myron and Kotto hold Tanaka up awaiting a head shot

Ruckus: Last call nigga. You gonna save him?

Bryce: just turns around and walks up the ramp

(((Ruckus hits Masato over the head with a devastating chair shot)))

Bryce doesn’t even look back

Commentary puts over the seriousness of The Set’s vicious attack on XPWEW Legend Masato Tanaka

Tag Team Match

XPWEW Women’s Champ Prisiclla Kelly enters

Doxy enters

Mandy Leon enters with The Marauder Simon Gotch

Kiera Hogan enters with 911 Brian Lee

Tag Team Match M1: Doxy Deity & Prisiclla Kelly vs Kiera Hogan & Mandy Leon w/ Simon Gotch ENDS IN NO CONTEST While Doxy and Prisiclla were scheduled to be partners tonight it didn’t stop Doxy from turning on her biggest rival to attack her from behind to the point referee Kevin Madrox had to call the match off while him and Simon Gotch separate the two from attacking each other. Even Romeo Roselli comes down to help break up the doddybrook

PROMO: Slayer vs Jake [history] Commentary breaks down what happened last week with Jake and Slayer and Rosemary [[[Jake appears with a bandage wrapped around his stomach]]]

Jake Awesome needs to rest his injured stomach but her is anyway in his first match on Friday Night Pyro since October 2019

1 on 1 M2: Jake Awesome defeats Alveno La Flare

Lotus walks down to blindside Jake but Jake is way ahead of her antics and he runs up and grabs her in a spine buster position and Rams her through the corner guardrail but then hoists her up and Oklahoma Slams her through the commentary desk. Not enough, Jake sets up a table outside. Throws Lotus in the ring and Awesome Bomb’s her over the ropes and flings her to the table he set up down below for a wicked wreck. Jake flexes hard and belts out a screech of intensifying roar. Rosemary and Slayer stand at the ramp and attempt to jump in the ring. Jake baits them into to do so. But Jake runs them down and chases them both and the camera follows Jake chasing Slayer and Rosemary to the back to the point Slayer and Rosemary jump in a vehicle and Jake is right on their heels. Jake gets on top of the hood and busts through the windshield and grabs Slayer’s hair and tries to pull him out of the car through the little hole he busted open within the windshield of the car.

Rosemary gets out of the car and beats Jake with an umbrella all the while he’s trying to pull Slayer out of the car while simultaneously getting thwacked with this umbrella. Rosemary then sprays the mist in his face and that stops Jake from his onslaught. Jake rolls backwards off the hood of the car. Half the locker room has emptied out into the parking lot at this point to try to intervene but Jake covered in mist just looks at Rosemary and says “I’m gonna knock your teeth down your fucking throat”. Rosemary is also yelling insults his way but Jake then starts to attack security and he jumps in a car also. Is he gonna chase Slayer down?

1 on 1 M3: Audrey Carbine defeats All Man via submission with The Art of Ballistics

Joe Gacy comes out grabs Audrey by the hair but in an intense friendship comeadery kind of way?? All Woman walks past them but Gacy grabs her by the hair and All Woman pleading no is able to low blow Gacy and then start punching Carbine down the ramp until All Man has the strength to get back up and hit Carbine with The Allman Joy

4 Way Dance M4: Ruckus defeats Champagne Clausen, Garrett Thompson, Leonard McGraw

(It becomes a 1 on 1 between Ruckus and Champagne essentially after GT no shows and as soon as Leonard hears that word he runs to the back)

During the match Leonard McGraw finds Ethan Bedlam and is basically just kicking his ass around the backstage/catering area. Pulling out all the spots, pouring every item of food you can find all over Bedlam. Meanwhile in the ring it’s Ruckus who secures the win over Champagne and Bryce comes down and goes punch for punch with Ruckus until Bryce clotheslines him out of the ring. Bryce even hits the 6 Rings on Champagne for good measure. Bryce amped up “Is this the Golden Bryce, Masato Tanaka said he needed time be?” - Kaitlyn Khaos “That probably didn’t include Bryce leaving his left for dead at the hands of The Set earlier tonight but...I don’t know maybe Masato is an odd guy” - Nick Simmonds

Kaitlyn Khaos and Nick Simmonds run down the match card for XPWEW Lockdown 7 __/___/ Lockdown 7 goes down May 23rd, 2020 in Rashid Stadium Slayer defends the XPWEW International Title against Jake Awesome, The Tag Team Titles are up for grabs as All Man and All Woman take on the Death Machines Audrey Carbine and Joe Gacy. The Women’s Title will be defended in a 3 Way Dance as Prisiclla Kelly puts it on the line against Doxy Deity and Kiera Hogan. Personal scores to be settled when Leonard McGraw takes on Garrett Thompson; Father vs Son. Troy Clausen wants Champagne to drop the name Clausen and if he defeats him 1 on 1 in a No Holds Barred match he’ll get his wish. Jordan Oliver puts up the XPWEW Juniorweight Title against the “original” Juniorweight himself Jacques Dudley and ultimately the XPWEW World Heavyweight Championship Title is on the line as Golden Bryce defends against Ruckus in a historic main event. Purchase Lockdown 7 on live streaming PPV on FITE TV for the low low price of $39.99 order now!

[[Jake Awesome is being followed by a camera man this whole time from the incident earlier tonight]] [Jake is walking into a Marriott hotel] Jake speaks with a Marriott employee

Jake: Hello miss, Yes is a Joseph Starven checked in? Marriott Employee: Yes, May I ask the reason. Jake : Yes I’m his brother, umm our father Marc has just passed away, I really really really need to tell him this in person. Family matter. Marriott Employee: I’m so sorry to hear that? Jake: Yep Marriott Employee: Name? Jake: Al Snow...Al Starven.. yeah Al Starven Marriott Employee: (on the phone)........Yes he’s in room 2679 he’s accepted the invite Jake: thank you so much [[Jake gets in elevator]]] commercial break [[Jake knocks on the door, Slayer opens it]] Jake attacks Slayer and throws him through the glass shower door and picks him up flings him over the bed, hits Slayer with the lamp. Then drags him to the outside balcony of his room on the 26th floor of this Marriott hotel. Jake has Slayer’s head over the railing Jake: I do not care anymore do you hear me!!!!! You got a week you fuckin slime Jake then releases Slayer Jake walks out the hotel room but before he leaves he puts the “Do Not Disturb” hanger on the doorknob.

Tag Team Match M5: Golden Bryce & Jacques Dudley defeats Jordan Oliver & Kotto Brazil (The Set)

6 Rings onto Kotto for the 630 splash and both Jacques and Bryce together pin Kotto for the 1-2-3

Golden Bryce gets on the turnbuckle and slaps his chest intensely as the show comes to an end

#xpwew #friday night pyro #golden bryce #ruckus #xpwew the set #ruckus the set #jake awesome #slayer #jake awesome vs slayer #efed

[junker-town]

From Baghdad to Iwo Jima, an anthem for the dead

Two Marines — one a veteran of Iraq and the other a survivor of Iwo Jima — remember the fallen and weigh the meaning of a national anthem.

Abner Greenberg doesn’t look like someone who was shot in the head on Iwo Jima.

At 93, he’s stockier and more solid than any nonagenarian I’ve met. The skin on his forehead and cheeks is smooth and has a healthy glow, and despite being mostly bald, his head bears no evidence of the Japanese bullet that went through the left side of it, leaving him unconscious for weeks and confused for months, unable to access his own speech.

When I shake his broad, meaty hand, I cannot tell that he hasn’t had feeling in his right arm for the last 73 years. He cannot button a shirt; his wife, Marilyn, helps him get dressed every day. “That’s the fun with us,” he says with a grin.

His aphasia is another result of the bullet that entered his head, but I don’t recognize that he’s using almost exclusively pronouns instead of proper names until he points it out himself. He is lively and sharp, easily the envy of men two decades younger.

Iwo Jima is familiar to most Americans thanks to a John Wayne movie and the famous photo of the flag-raising on Mount Suribachi, which is immortalized at the Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Va. It was a battle so fierce and horrifying it shocked even the battled-tested veterans of a country in its fourth year of world war.

Of the 82 Medals of Honor awarded to Marines during the entirety of World War II, 27 of them were for actions on Iwo Jima; of those, more than half were awarded posthumously. The island was death itself.

Imagine eight square miles where 29,000 lives ended in just 36 days.

Imagine: Somewhere in the vast Pacific Ocean is eight square miles of volcanic ash where nearly 29,000 lives ended in just 36 days. Greenberg was one of nearly 20,000 more who suffered a casualty but survived. Iwo was his fourth amphibious landing in 13 months, and he’s still shaken by the horror unleashed on the first day when 2,400 Americans were killed or injured. Two of them were the best friends he’d ever known. “We hung around together, y’know? We just … talked. ‘We’re gonna survive this thing,’ et cetera, et cetera.

“Well, we got off of the beach, and we had a spot … I got down with these two other guys, and all of a sudden it started lighting up. It got into the late afternoon and evening, and mortars were hitting us.”

This is how combat stories are told, by the way. Hours of terror and stress that shatter lives get compressed to a sentence in the service of a more interesting narrative.

“We got hit by mortars, all three of us. And, uh—” His voice wavers. “I got to Barney. Barney Aloysius Cochrane, who was my best friend, my leader, everything that I needed to get through what I went through … and I just couldn’t leave him for that moment. He was dead. I was shaking all over, and I was crying. And frozen, absolutely frozen.

“And then I realized that someone was moaning, and it was Schultz. George Andrew Schultz.” He pauses. A long pause. “I couldn’t get the corpsman, but I knew he was like 100 yards from me. I patched him up the best I could, hoping that in the morning I could get him [out] alive, because he was breathing. And I did all I could to hold him. And this corpsman got to me when it was still early [in the morning], and they pulled him down to the beach. I thought he made it.”

Abner and I served in wars that began 62 years apart, but we share this: You don’t say your friend’s full name if he made it out alive.

Getty Images

Marines in Kuwait prepare for war

‘I’m confident that this will be over soon.’

I met Brian Michael McPhillips at the end of our time at The Basic School in Quantico, Va. TBS is a six-month course that teaches Marine lieutenants the bare bones of leading an infantry platoon, even though most will go on to become specialists in other fields: aviation, artillery, logistics, supply, and so on. For our class of 240 students, there were three openings for tank officers. McP and I got two of them.

He was forthright and exacting, a New Englander with dark hair and icy blue eyes that hid nothing. He could bludgeon you with honesty or sarcasm, and like many Massachusetts natives, he had just enough charm to mitigate his asshole streak.

In the winter of 2001, we reported to Fort Knox together and joined a class of Army lieutenants, most of whom were reservists or National Guardsmen. Brian made no effort to hide his disgust for what he deemed their lack of knowledge, professionalism, and physical fitness. I tended to agree, but I at least tried to be nice to our colleagues.

McP had no time for niceties. He cared about training for war and keeping his Marines alive in battle; making friends wasn’t on his to-do list. Besides, he had me.

We were assigned to tank battalions on opposite sides of the country but ended up in the same desert for war. McP arrived in Kuwait a couple of weeks after I did, and his unit camped several kilometers away from ours. Still, he hitched a ride over one day and sought me out, no easy feat in a camp of four thousand Marines. I was out training with my platoon when he came by, so I didn’t see him that day. I never saw him again.

The war was mostly boring, except when it was terrifying. I’ve started forgetting even the memorable parts; I only recently recalled killing two Iraqi fighters with a coaxial machine gun — their bodies flung into the air like they’d stepped on cartoon springs — when I revisited an old diary. But the map is imprinted in my brain; the names of the cities and towns shine like beacons through the fog, checkpoints that put the war in order: Basrah. Nasiriyah. Diwaniyah. Numaniyah. Aziziyah.

Aziziyah is about 40 miles southeast of Baghdad’s outskirts, on the banks of a bulbous C-curve of the sidewinding Tigris. I didn’t fight there, but Brian did. My guess is the ambush came from the palm grove; it’s where most ambushes originated that spring, because they offered cover and restricted the movement of tracked vehicles. He was on top of a Humvee leading the scout platoon, returning fire with a .50-cal machine gun when he was shot in the head. I’ve heard rumors that the last thing he said was “I FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIT!” I’ve believed it for so long that it may as well be true.

Baghdad fell a few days later. I learned about his death 10 days after that. When my friend Charlie told me the news, I was standing in a garbage dump outside Baghdad; we’d left the city because tanks presented an “aggressive posture” that ran counter to the new mission of nation-building. We were going home.

When I boarded the Navy ship that would bring me back to the States, I checked my email for the first time in five months. On Jan. 31, 2003, McP had sent a characteristically terse note.

Friends and Family,

We are leaving for Kuwait this evening. Thanks again for all the support. I’m confident that this will be over soon. God bless.

Brian

The subject line was one word: goodbye.

Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images

‘At what point do we do something about it?’

On the internet, I have watched a war of words, waged mostly among people who haven't fought for their country. One side, pained by a protest occurring during the national anthem, will say that our troops fight for the flag. The other side, typically, will point out that servicemen and women swear an oath to defend not the flag, but the Constitution.

I grew up on Air Force bases, and wherever we lived, the theater played “The Star-Spangled Banner” before every movie. My father, a pilot who served 22 years, had a habit of haranguing teens and young airmen for wearing hats or talking during the anthem. It became a running bit for our family: We’d identify disrespectful culprits in the crowd and watch my father’s blood boil until he marched over to correct them.

Later, as a student in ROTC, I spent three years on the color guard, skipping tailgates to present the colors at windswept Big Ten football games, where my drunken classmates watched from the stands.

I still stand at attention for the anthem, from the first bars until the final note ends. I don’t think I can be any other way. Like a Catholic making the sign of the cross, I stand for the anthem. It’s a rite tied to my identity, ingrained by family and belief.

Photo by Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images

When Colin Kaepernick first sat during the anthem — before he consulted with the former Green Beret Nate Boyer and began kneeling — I took offense. How could I not? Kaepernick rejected a ritual that was part of my identity as an American. But it was also his First Amendment right to protest peacefully. I swore an oath to defend the Constitution, not my feelings.

As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie advised in Americanah:

Hear what is being said. And remember that it’s not about you. American Blacks are not telling you that you are to blame. They are just telling you what it is. If you don’t understand, ask questions. [...] Sometimes people just want to feel heard. Here’s to possibilities of friendship and connection and understanding.

I had to say it to myself: It’s not about me. It’s not about the troops. It’s about Kaepernick’s experience as a black man in America. And he started the protest because he saw black men dying preventable deaths. “I remember thinking our posture was like a flag flown at half-mast to mark a tragedy,” wrote teammate Eric Reid in The New York Times.

If you read or listen to what black Americans have to say about police violence, chances are good that at some point you will see the names of the dead repeated. Philando Castile. Michael Brown. Tamir Rice. Terence Crutcher. Freddie Gray. “I couldn’t see another ‘hashtag Sandra Bland,’ ‘hashtag Tamir Rice,’ ‘hashtag Walter Scott,’ ‘hashtag Eric Garner,’” Kaepernick said to reporters in 2016. “The list goes on and on and on. At what point do we do something about it?”

Saying their names is the vigil the living keep.

I’ve only recently realized that veterans do the same thing. More than 70 years after his best friends died on Iwo Jima, Greenberg still says their names whenever he can: Barney Aloysius Cochrane. George Andrew Schultz.

And Brian McPhillips. He’s as dead as Barney and George, as dead as Tamir and Terence. The circumstances of their deaths were different, but details matter little to the dead. Their lives ended in their youth, and they stay that age while the survivors grow middle-aged and old, the memories fading but not the names of the dead they loved.

Saying their names is the vigil the living keep, a flame tended so the light they brought to the world isn’t extinguished entirely.

“Life is ... it’s people,” Abner tells me. “It’s touching people.” It’s the end of our conversation, and we’ve been talking about war and the anthem and Black Lives Matter.

“We’re doing it to us. What they’re doing to our people — how do we allow it?” I’m not sure who he means by they. The aphasia that robs him of specificity makes it unclear if he’s talking about his war or my war or police violence. Maybe it’s everything.

“I recognized, I’m a culprit. Which I didn’t recognize before. ‘We gotta win this war. The Nazis are there, we gotta win this war.’ But it became beyond that.

“It wasn’t winning this war — it’s never having any wars.”