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Diary

My Dad, Myself and Trayvon

By       Message Mark Sashine     Permalink

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The primary argument of the folks who support the Zimmerman verdict  is that Zimmerman had no choice; he  had a gun  but he was apparently confronted by Trayvon Martin, battered, and  acted in self- defense.  I am not arguing  here. I just want to tell the story (although I did tell it before).

My dad who died recently as a distinguished scientist (some people called him a genius) was a troubled and unstable teenager in 1946 when his family returned from the Siberian evacuation to  their native city in western Russia which had been  liberated in 1943 from the two years of German occupation. My dad started attending the all-boys school (they had those at the times). Food was scarce and the kids  at school received  rolls of bread from the government.  Some kids did not eat their rolls  but tried to take those home  because they had younger siblings who were hungry too.  But   the school was surrounded by gangs of homeless  kids, teenagers mostly, who received nothing  and practically starved. Those gangs regularly mugged the younger schoolboys and tool the rolls.

The older boys at school  were  the children of the war- tough, cruel, difficult and very handy. They decided to confront the gangs and on one day a huge fight broke out between the parties. It involved  hundreds of teenagers, many  armed, (firearms were not used but knives  and  pipes were common) and lasted for many hours. The teachers and local militia (the police equivalent)  could not take control. The city authorities addressed the military commandant  and he dispatched a regular regiment with an order to RESTORE ORDER BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.

The soldiers of the regiment were  coming home. They   had just survived the most deadly war of all and  many of them were wounded before. They were returning back  to the country destroyed, to hunger and famine and to the news that most of their families had perished.  We cannot even talk PTSD here; it was black rage which possessed them and that rage was fully justified. They were fully armed and  had heavy weapons.

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The easiest way to put an end to the fight with no risk to the soldiers was to fire a volley of high- caliber machine-gun fire over the heads. That might injure or even kill the spectators around but it would  have worked. Instead  the regiment divided into two groups. One of them- armed - surrounded the area; another one-unarmed- divided  into several teams, each targeting a specific fighting group. In  a matter of minutes the  first group fired a  rifle volley  into the air while the second group  penetrated the fight, rounding up the most violent and dispersing the others.   The leaders of the gangs were immediately arrested and the school boys- pushed back and secured in  the school.  No kid, soldier or anyone  turned up injured. After an investigation  the homeless kids were sent to special colonies for  the homeless  children and the  militia post was erected in front of the school.

If those soldiers had used a deadly force, my dad  could be killed. I then would not be born. My son would not be born.
My dad, when he told me that story, mused that maybe those soldiers behaved that way because for them those kids were their children-  all of them. They did not come back alive to shoot at their own kids.

 This is to those who consider the usage  of the  deadly force against our own kids.  Some people say  I am a child of a miracle. I don't think so.

 

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The writer is 57 years old, semi- retired engineer, PhD, PE, CEM. I write fiction on a regular basis and I am also 10 years on OEN.

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