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WRITING
by VENUS
STORIES
* * * * *
* * * * *

“What are you thinking about?” I asked him as I was taking a seat across from him.

“I must leave,” he said and looked down at the table again.

“Is it O.K. to cry?” I asked.

“Sure it is,” he answered.

“So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”

“No. You’re just scared,” he said. “I am scared too.”

“So, nothing is wrong with me?”

“No. Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with any of you,”

he said in the same flat voice. “Something else is wrong.”


“Do you know Dan?” I asked him.

“You like him?” he asked me.

“Well, quite humanitarian” I blushed, smiling.

“Then talk to him. Tell him about these tears.”

“Ah, my tears! They’re just from fear of the unknown.”

“He knows the unknown,” Doc said in an even tone. “He too is a Ranger.”


A tall man with British accent approached our table, stopped quite close to him

and asked him: “Are you George?”

Under his thick black eyebrows Doc carefully looked at him, “No. No George,”

he said, and looked at the table again.

“Hello! My name is Henry. Pleased to meet you, miss”, the man reached over

and kissed my right hand.

“Thank you,” I said. ” When will you leave?” I looked back at Doc,

trying to ignore the stranger.

The man left.

“Don’t ever talk to that one.” Doc said, looking at the man who just walked away.

“When will you leave?” I asked again.

“Tomorrow morning.”


Few days after, they were all gone. The sun stopped shining.
The black shadow was everywhere. How terrible it was, cruel and crude.
How monstrous. Torture! Violence! Killing! Massacre! Genocide!
Kosova was burning… It was almost spring, 1999.


* * * * *

“Have you heard from Doc, angel?” Dan asked me.

“No. I plan to buzz him today.”

“Great. Tell him I said, Hi. I’ll be home around 6. I love you, my lady.”

“But, my lord! I love you more,” I said smiling and gave him kisses

through the phone.


Doc began his career in the Jungles of Vietnam, where he earned a
Purple Heart and was credited with saving numeral lives…
As I was reading about him, Doc’s icon smiled from my friend’s list.
He was on-line. It was 2001.


“Hi Doc,” I sent an instant message.

“Hi girl,” he wrote.

“Would you like to be my main character?”

“Wearing the last black beret?”

“No. ‘In the Jungles of Vietnam.”

“Ha...I would love to represent the 5th SFG in RVN,” he said.

“A Purple Heart…Is that what you have?” I asked him.

“Along with quite a few other awards...but the Purple Heart is the most important

one for many reasons.”

“In the Hall of Fame...how do you lead the way?”

“Live the Ranger creed every day” he said.

“Is that a mission?”

“Way of life.”

“Did you choose it?”

“Sure, many years ago...before you were born.”

“What do you use to get going so far?”

“Walk the same as I talk.”

“What makes you go on?”

“I just don't want to die before I give something back to humanity.”

“What does humanity do for you?”

“Provides kindness and love from those I don't know.”

“How do you do your battles: front by front, land, sea, or the air?”

“All of the above.”

“Do you like danger?”

“Not danger...adventure.” he included the smiley icon.

“Is the Earth Unearthly?

“Good question! Sometimes earthy event done my man is unearthly."

“Why are you away from home?”

“Only by choice. I can help those who need my medical skills...”

“What do you believe in, Doc?”

“I believe that life is there to enjoy:
I believe you should treat people the same
I believe great things come to people who never give up
I believe that heart leads you in the right direction if you follow it
I believe kids could teach adults a lot, if adults would just listen
I believe silence will teach you something if you listen hard
Like you, I believe you should always chase your dreams..."

"What's with all these questions anyway??” he finally asked me.

“I'm writing a story.”

“Ah (
laughing)...Good...I believe stories can take you anywhere... I'll start writing

like a RANGER then...Not mushy stuff...Hooah.

Time’s getting tough...I saved some I could in Kosovo...one amputation...”

“You're saving lives, and I'm writing...What a difference!” I said.

“It is what we do. I'm not a writer...I wish I was.”

“How does it feel to change places? You’re in my country, I’m in yours.” I said.

“I look around, and I like people here!”

“Are you free?”

“I am American...” he said.

“Where do you belong Ranger?”

“THE US ARMY 1st RANGER BATTALION-ELITE.”

“ ELITE?”

“OH YA! “

“Now saving children too.”

“Yes, and I want you to put my story on canvas, one day...”

“You spent your life around the world, what would you say to the world Doc?

“How does the song go...GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.”


* * * * *

Tonight, I sit alone at the table. Someone is staring at me.
I hope one day this person will write a story…
I’m waiting for Dan, my chivalrous officer. They call me Venus.
My novelty is that I like dialogue.
I’m American too…It’s almost winter…2005.



(( VENUS))
Venera Lokaj-Smit
USA


============================================================
"Give Peace a Chance"
is a true story featuring
William "DOC" Donovan
(RANGER - United States
Army) I briefly met in Kosovo
in 1999.

Later on, both my husband
and I were honored by his
kind friendship, thus in 2001,
I decided to
interview him via
internet, to write this truly
profound dialogue story.

Thank You, Sir.

Mr. Donovan is one of the
most respected figures in
Army Ranger medicine and
is a member of the US Army
Ranger Hall of Fame.

DOC is holding a little
Kosovar girl in his arms.
Portrait of Doc Donovan
oil on canvas
by VENUS
Give Peace a Chance
(Ranger William DOC Donovan)

© by VENUS

He sat alone at the table, smoking at 5 o’clock.
The café was full and the sun was still shining.
His style was old-fashioned.
He smiled rarely and I don’t remember his
laughter ever... Middle-aged, not tall with black
hair and quite dignified. He was courageous
and calm. He loved helping people.
People trusted this man. His novelty was that he
never stared at women. He was a gentleman.
That evening, he stared at his table.
He was tired. I didn’t know his name, and never
spoke to him before. They called him ‘Doc’.
The hour of departure had arrived, and we all had to go our ways;
I probably to die, and he to live. I was Kosovar. He was American.