Dr. Marcus Divendre, the narrator of the excerpt in my
previous blog entry, met a fellow named Colonel Tennyson along his many temporal journeys, whose story he documented for a number of years. He came to appreciate and respect the once great Colonel and when the Colonel passed, he adopted his surname as a part of his own so as to honor him.
The most interesting thing about the Colonel in Dr. Workman's eyes, was that he abhorred violence yet he had a surprisingly successful (some would say) military career. Dr. Workman was always fascinated by this and many other dichotomies that seemed to infused into the Colonel's being, and was always willing to listen. He would often have to ply Tennyson with herb or drink with gentle reminders that as a historian, it was his duty to listen and record anything Tennyson said.
This second entry, dated 10.25.2004 @ 1427, was to have been one such occasion:
Third Age 20.Mai.1027 nZ
Tennyson once told me that he read somewhere, "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent".
He
was 24 when he entered the military as an enlisted man, to "fight for
mankind against the tyrants under the mountains who threatened the very
existence of human life."
By what many refer to as "luck", he
survived to earn multiple field promotions. By way of this same "luck",
he found himself the only educated man to survive being stationed in the
Heisstisch Garrison and consequently promoted the rank of Colonel. And
by this same "luck", he survived the very last battle on record before
the end of The War, while all of the men under his command all about him
were mercilessly slaughtered.
On numerous occasions in the past
when I have talked to him, he has let me know that in no uncertain
terms does he consider such events to be "lucky"; that he has never
forgiven himself for surviving and actually prospering at the expense of
the thousands who died before his eyes as a result of the decisions he
has made.
Tonight, however, he confided in me how he would find
himself staring at the ceiling of the barracks or officer's quarters
each and every night wondering, "Why do we have to fight at all?". And
when the Treaty of Ty was signed that ended the war, he found himself
asking, "Why didn't we just sign the damned treaty before all these men
had to die? What fools these men are who let loose the dogs of war!
Violence is...must be... the last refuge of the incompetent!."
After listening to him and seeing the tear fall from the eye of this pained and hardened man, I would have to agree...
