Last night, 23.45 hrs. I was in my office, writing some reports for one of my clients, as I am badly behind with paperwork. TV was barely audible, has been left on Russia Today channel since noon time.

An update to the peace talks between president Obama and Putin has been announced minutes ago; breaking news just flashed on the screen as I am writing this now. Putin is taking his chances with invasion of Ukraine, and claims he will “be forced to protect the east of Ukraine besides the Crimean autonomous republic”, due to the “increasing number of acts of violence against Russian citizens and ethnic groups in those areas”. Nothing seem to quench Putin’s repressed (until now) inclinations towards violating the basics of democracy. I am afraid the American eagle has no means or force to scare the Russian bear anymore. Is not yet a situation where “le jeux sont fait”, but it appears more and more to be the case. Indeed so, by the hour.

I take a look at the Central and Eastern Europe map; there are only 330 miles from the door of my house to the Crimean russian military bases in Yevpatorya or Sebastopol, and only 180 miles to the northern border of Romania with Ukraine. Too close, much too close for comfort. And I am not comfortable at all with any of this shit happening so close to the bed where my child is sleeping a sleep of peaceful childhood.

I know what war can do to a nation; I have seen it with my own eyes and my sleep is even now (after all these years) disturbed by the images of the days when I entered the town of Oddur in Somalia, in June 1992. At the time, although I was serving with the 3rd Legion Infantry Regiment, had been transferred and embedded with the 13th Demi-Brigade, assigned as P4 light infantry support of the “Escadron de Reconnaissance” sub-unit, during the Operation UNOSOM in Somalia.

So I know what carnage is; I remember the smell of it, in the streets of Oddur. You cannot imagine what a Russian RPG round can do in street fightings; or a round of the ill-famed T55 Russian tank fired point blank to a hospital. I wish no one to live with such images for the rest of their lives. That is, if they escape alive from such hell.

I don’t want this to happen to my city, or to any city for that matter, here or anywhere on this Earth. For those who think war is the cure for wrongs, or the ultimate medicine to put things right…no, it isn’t. It never was. It’s only a way of creating misery, death and sufferings.

I wish they could talk this thing over. I want to believe that there will be no war, and the situation will resolve itself somehow. Perhaps I am deluding myself, but I prefer to do this, than thinking about war.

Message to politicians – Morons, stop fighting over whose dick is bigger and start talking peace. Don’t fight over anything. It’s just not worth it.