asked my father one day while we walked a desolate winter beach on the coast of the North Atlantic, the distance crowded with whitecaps.
War is when everybody is afraid of the night. It’s when you are in a match and anyone with a grudge can have you killed. At any time. In a million different ways, because they want your land, maybe.
I find it notable that what war does, according to The Old Man, is increase the chance of personal betrayal. True son of Sicily, wouldn’t you say?