If Earth was part of some kind of governing body of planets, war would be our number one export, right after Faith, Hope and Love, of course. War is old, as old as our race. The sword is in our blood, our blood is on the sword. The first recorded war in the history of the world is not widely known despite its precedence. It wasn’t fought in the air, or on the beaches with sticks and metal tubes that propel blunt projectiles into people; it was in the classic sense, a gentleman’s pursuit. The opponents shook hands and said “one, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war.” I won’t go into detail safe to say that I think the loser had to eat an apple or something and ended up kicked out of some garden.
Victory in Mesopotamia...
Well, that maybe wasn’t so much a war as a story I just made up. The real very first war ever in the history of the world was probably the First Dynasty Wars in 2925B.C. Then in 2899B.C. we have the Mesopotamian Wars (The First, First Gulf War) of the Early Dynastic Period and they went on until Sargon’s Conquest of Mesopotamia. That is why you have never heard of them and why they aren’t as popular as the Napoleonic Wars or the thousands of other revolutions: the names are too hard to pronounce, let alone remember and frankly that’s just bad marketing. The first wars that we actually like to count are the ones with boats and Romans and swords and lions.
Yeah, like that.
Those are the manly wars of sweat, blood and head chopping all in the name of glory and riches. Then somebody, most likely the English, decided that war should be conducted with certain rules and customs, so out with the savage axe-swinging and in with snazzy well-tailored costumes and bugles. The gentlemen’s game it was, where two leaders would meet before battle and in their best Peter Sellers Officer’s voice, have an exchange like this: “I say old man, do you not wish to surrender as it’d be an awful shame to mess up your finery?” and the retort “bullocks you pissin’ sob.”
And with that they’d, shake hands, and commence the dignified ritual or negotiation through thinning numbers. A gentlemen’s game played with the gentlemen’s tools like the bayonet: not just a gun, not just a knife, a knife-gun! After you killed someone from far away, you could kill it again when you got a little closer. Like the savage swords and shields of days of yore, this regulated custom of international intercourse went on undisturbed for a few centuries, made more interesting through continued technological upgrades.
Finally, however, after numerous cannon fodder revolutions in the most sophisticated nations of the world, it was time for the big show: The Great War.
Pageantry went the way of its mace-swinging predecessors, making way for the new tools of relations such as the repeater machine gun, mustard gas, and of course the multi-purpose tank which was used to great avail crushing people and then crushing their stuff. The world welcomed that war, since it was the climax of a global arms race and the last chance to grab a piece of the world pie.
WW3 will be fought in SPACE, goddammit.
In the aftermath, as our world changed economically and socially, countries had to deal with new sorts of domestic problems. At the dawn of the last century we were coming together and working with one another on a level never before imagined. Unfortunately as always happens, things tended to boil over between nations and when it became too stressful, a “release” was in order. Releasing poisonous mustard gas was all the rage in Europe. Alas that conflict ended but fortunately for us we managed to leave enough loose ends that a second world conflict would certainly come. The time came to further perfect tactics and re-invent destructive methods when the most planet-altering sequel in history took place.
The Second Battle of Fallujah, 2004.
The name wasn’t quite as grandiose as “The Great War” but the characters and plot twists were stranger and more deadly than any technicolour land of Oz. This was the war where our greatest hopes and aspirations came true with the atomic bomb. At long last there would be no need for tedious troop landings and time-consuming carpet-bombing. Just the push of a button to drop an affectionately nicknamed capsule o’ death. The fallout (if you will excuse the pun) from the creation of such an efficient way of causing extinction turned out to be nearly 40 years of going to bed each night not sure if there would be a tomorrow.
Since that Second of World Wars, there have thankfully been no other such wars, just the occasional police action, peacekeeping, military sanctioning, preventative engagements, and one or two preemptive strikes. We’ve certainly come a long way from the most primitive rocks, knives, and wooden shields to gelatin gasoline that sticks to people while still burning.
We are rubber, you are glue - bounces off of us and sticks, burning gasoline allover you causing a slow agonizing death.
Our latest: guidance missiles that puncture the ground and look around for the underground bunker then arrange everyone inside according to height, weight, and intelligence before reducing them to their periodic elements. What does the future hold for us I wonder? Perhaps my children’s grand-kids will listen gleefully to the army men of the future boast about their ability to focus a laser beam from space accurately enough to blow the dick off a snail.