I stood next to him in front of the wide window, staring out into the blackness of the night.  The street lights hadn’t come on for days now.  I could hear the faded gunfire in the distance, amazed at how the sound didn’t faze me anymore.

“Do you regret coming here?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the window.

“No,” I answered after a moment.  “I’m glad I came.  I made some good friends.  I really like my students.  I’m learning a new language, well, um, sort of.”  He laughed softly.  I watched him gaze out at nothing.  “I don’t regret being here.  There was nothing for me back home, so I wouldn’t have changed anything I did that led me here.  Even now.”

He nodded, but still wouldn’t face me.  “Do you regret your decision to join when you did?” I asked, peeking at his uniform.  Had this been a completely different situation, I may have dwelled more on just how y he looked in his army camouflage uniform.

He sighed sadly and looked down at himself.  “No, I guess not.  I’m a man.  This is what men do.  So no, I don’t regret joining when I did.  Even now.”

The pain in his eyes from all the violence and death they’ve taken in so far told me otherwise.  They held regret.  And disappointment at feeling regret.  He in a deep breath and let it out, smiling sadly.  “I feel bad though,” he mentioned.  “I want to go home.  I miss my mom.” 

In the eyes of national law, he may be a man, but deep down, he was just a kid.  Who wanted to play video games with his friends, not become a hardened killing machine.