Ready, aim, fire. Shot(s) fired. The Commander of squad faces right then marches stiffly up, removes his large caliber 1900ish revolver with laynard attached to belt from flap holster swinging on a Sam Browne rig, cocks hammer to rear, steps up to the still warm blindfolded body of the well intentioned but militarily unacceptable by the unflexible standards which required the execution of the dreamer to save him from himself. He aims the well oiled softly gleaming revolver carefully and fires one shot into the heart of the now very still corpse. The corpse convulses slightly from the impact. The commannder reholsters the revolver, snaps the tie down strap, faces to the rear, motions for the funeral detail to bring the coffin forward (the same one the executed sat on as he rode in the wagon), then marches briskly back to the firing squad, commands "Attention! Right Face! Right Shoulder Arms! Forward March!" They exit the courtyard. The burial detail place the corpse into the plain wooden coffin with no great amount of care, place the lid on, set it into the wagon, then drive toward the cemetery. The only remaining sign of the execution is the still smoldering cigarette on the ground still moist with the saliva of the executed man. It soon extinguishes itself. Then there is no more.
I said all that to say this: Ed, John, please shut this thread down. Nothing postive going to come from it from here on.
Rk
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