So it sat there in the museum park with other relics from that last two major wars and other worldly conflict, its teeth drawn, passive in its bulk and fury that was once was. I looked at it an really wondered just what sort of person would command such a horrific killing beast on a day to day basis and wondered about the demeanor of such a person, what insights did he hold on life that I did not. I climbed aboard the now cold beast, climbed up as perhaps many soldiers had on this tank as it went into battle, climbed to the turret and looked around. It was a sense that you felt that under my feet was sheer, naked, raw power and ability to kill and do so with utter impunity. But then after standing there and looking, one could very well feel and imagine the tank commander standing there glasses trained on a distant point and perhaps sensing that the time to move was now, quickly to see a position of strength, to stop the enemy that seemed at the very gates themselves. One could hear the barked command at the idling engine was thrust into full power, the seemingly ponderous beast springing forward with surprising alacrity to its chosen destination, the driver working the gears & steering, the layer plotting course while a killing shell was shoved into the breach and locked, the gunner at the ready as the ponderous beast moved to its place and time of retribution. Perhaps it bolted out of a copse of woods catching the enemy of guard enough to place a killing shot, perhaps just by its sheer size and brutal head way it was suffice to scatter the enemy away, disperse them, breaking up their route. Perhaps that day so long a go it, this brutal killing device achieved its goal and did what it was designed for. It was both strange and exhilerating to stand on that turret and ponder the why and where fores of one who would command such a device that its sole purpose was to kill with impunity or be killed in the same horrific manner..........thanks for the peek.