Somehow I don’t feel so bad about the slaughter of the Sashan top brass, who’d wanted the war and looked forward to it and taken bets with each other the night before as to who could skewer the most Echmen. All human life has value, even the lives of shitheads and arseholes, but then again, you can’t make omelettes, so on and so forth. On balance I’d rather see six dozen senior officers trampled into squashed bags of broken bone than the same number of other ranks. No real logic to that, of course, but there you go. I’d wanted the war, too, of course. But at least I had the sense to keep as
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