[ WP ] A soldier in the heat of battle suddenly hears a voice that says `` I am your child 's imaginary friend . They have sent me to protect you in your greatest time of need . ''

MIC KEY EMMO YOU ESS EE..... 
 
 The chanting of the marine corps filled my head. We had been brought up on a diet of violence, death and torture for the last 18 months. We were the toughest guys around, probably the toughest ever. We were barely human, most of us would later go on to describe ourselves as extreme killing machines dressed in fatigues. Indeed, that was the supposed aim when we were first created. 
 
 But that does n't mean we did n't scare. Put yourself in a field of fire long enough, and the fear of death begins to leave you. That's good, but you do n't want to go as far as I've gone. Me and my friends, we've been fearing for our lives everyday for so long. The calendar tells us it's been a few months. It feels more like a decade. These men standing beside me. They're my brothers, but they are n't me. And as much as I fear for their lives, I fear for mine even more. 
 
 We are n't scared of gunfire any longer. We are n't scared of grenades. We are n't scared of barbed wire and we are n't scared of wounds. But we still want to be alive, oh so badly. Perhaps more than most of the people sitting comfortably in air conditioned buildings. 
 
 And I never believed in angels, until I saw one with my own eyes. Except that this one did n't have wings and had assumed the guise of a small boy. He was around 10 years old, the same age as my son. At close to 5 feet tall, he had wavy brown hair and even browner eyes. He wore plain white clothes, a ridiculous contrast to the crimson mixture of blood, mud and gravel that surrounded us. Looking back, I wonder how I managed not to wonder what he was doing here, and why nobody else had noticed him but at the time it seemed perfectly natural. 
 
 `` Uncle Dave''. The little pipsqueak knew my name. And it still did n't ring any alarm bells. 
 
 `` Uncle Dave, you need to listen to me. Do n't try to get to higher ground. It's too predictable.'' 
 
 Marines do n't do well taking orders from strange folk. We were killing machines yes. We took orders from our platoon commanders, damn straight. We would throw ourselves right in the line of enemy fire if that was what was called for. 
 
 But make a stranger, an outsider say the same things and we did n't listen. We then possessed the skepticism of a full blown atheist and we took time. 
 
 `` Listen to me Dave. The corps tactics have been in use since the last fifteen years. 
 It was a great plot and the corps has had a great run. But you need to wisen up. Do you have to lose your life to this battle? Does the military only change their tactics every time they lose a few thousand lives?'' 
 
 I was listening now. Gunfire sounded all around me. I could see the rest of my brothers make their way up the hill. A higher vantage point meant a number of things to us. Well over half our training was spent on exercises designed to reward the individuals and teams who found their way to the vantage points. 
 
 So it did sound weird when there was this little boy, dressed in clothing so white that it reeked of symbolism telling you not to do the one thing the bloody drill sergeant had spent months training you to do. 
 
 Yet, the pipsqueak had a point. You only heard the voices in your head when they were telling you something important. 
 
 `` Who the fuck are you?'' I managed, though what I really should have asked was'what should I do instead?' 
 
 `` I'm Butters. I'm Timmy's friend.'' 
 
 Holy crap. The whole thing came flooding back to me. My wife and I for the short time we were together had fought often about how to raise Timmy. My wife always thought I was naive. I usually gave in to the bitch. Domestic peace and all, right? 
 
 But not when it came to Timmy. He was the only son I had at the time and he meant the world to me. I would rip her heart out, before I let her corrupt a single thought my boy might have. But Bebe did n't see things my way. She had changed Bebe had. She was no longer the caring girl I had caressed and made love to when we were teenagers. 
 It must have been her sister. Or her parents. Or all of em. Did n't fucking matter to me. Bebe was always telling Timmy to sit straight, or comb his hair or put away his things. She was killing the one thing that Timmy had. The one thing I was risking my life for on the battlefield. 
 
 She was killing freedom. It was n't just about the country. It was n't just about the red, white and blue and the right to press your thumb against a person's name. It was about the right to think for yourself. 
 
 Timmy did n't have too many friends. He even had a habit of talking to himself. It drove Bebe up the wall. One day I saw her smacking my little boy across the face for'talking to Butters'. I pulled the boy out of her reach and put him on my shoulder, my freshly washed shirt absorbing the moisture that had gathered across his face. That was the last time I ever saw Bebe outside of a courtroom. Bebe won custody back and I only got to visit when I was n't on tour. 
 
 Butters had all but slipped out of my mind. Until he showed up and I could see him right before my eyes. The mud, the blood, the gravel, the bullets, the screams, the silence that followed a round of gunfire - it was all insignificant to the incarnation of Timmy's best and perhaps only friend. 
 
 I still had n't digested his entry. Clearly, this vision or ghost or whatever he was knew a thing or two about what was going to happen, and was in fact trying his best to get it across. Instead, the next words out of my mouth were `` Please do n't tell Timmy I used the F-word'' 
 
 Butters nodded. 
 
 `` I try to be a good role model. I really do. I wish I could get to see him more often.'' 
 
'If that's what you want, you'll do as I tell you.'' 
 
 `` I hear ya'' I replied. 
 
 `` You'll take the third largest hill as your target. Same drill. Do n't go for the highest ground. They've got a battalion of shooters, most of them snipers, sitting far away waiting for soldiers to cross the only path. They've got more firepower than you have soldiers. Do the math.'' 
 
 I did. It was n't particularly hard. 
 
 `` What you'll do is going to be hard. You'll have to make sacrifices and you'll have to make difficult ones. Kenny, Stan and Kyle will have to die.'' 
 
 I nodded in profound dumbness. 
 
 `` As they make their way past the passing over there'' he pointed as he spoke and I looked and understood well enough what he meant. I would have to look away as my friends died and make notes. I would have to let them be shot through their hearts while I looked out for myself. Not surprisingly, I was okay with that. 
 
 I moved out of my position. No one noticed I was missing as I slithered away, moving only on my elbows and knees, my chest flat and facing the ground. 
 
 Once I was further away, I knew by instinct when the rest of the contingent realized that something was amiss. And sure enough a few moments later, I heard Kyle and Stan exclaim in sequence... 
 `` Oh My God! They killed Kenny!'' 
 `` You Bastards!!!'' 
 
 I knew them so well I was visualizing their dialogue right before my eyes. 
 
 I turned towards Butters. `` I always thought you'd have blond hair''. Not my brightest day. But then I was n't sure whether I'd ever see the kid again. I watched the gunshots come flying out of the darkness. I saw where they came from. I saw how many they were. And then I fired. I killed them all one by one. 

