The sight of mutilation did more than cause me physical revulsion; it burst the religious myths of my Catholic childhood. I could not look at those men and still believe their souls had “passed on” to another existence, or that they had had souls in the first place. I could not believe those bloody messes would be capable of a resurrection on the Last Day. They did, in fact, seem “more” dead. Massacred or annihilated might better describe what had happened to them. Whatever, they were gone for good, body, mind, and spirit.
