Landmines - Remnants of War
Landmines are explosives lurking under the ground waiting for an enemy combatant to trigger. Technically they are designed to maim a soldier or disable a vehicle that comes near by. We, as the United States, produce them and use them. It seemed as though progress was being made by Clinton in 1996, w 
hen the President stated that we would "aggressively pursue an international agreement to ban the use, stockpiling, production, and transfer of anti-personnel landmines." However, President Clinton did not hold true to his word when he refused to join the majority of nations in signing the Ottawa Mine Ban treaty. In fact "Ten years later, the Pentagon still holds a stockpile of over 10 million antipersonnel mines, reserves the right to use these weapons anywhere in the world, and may be soon moving towards producing new antipersonnel landmines" (Ban mines USA) We must as a developed country take an active role against the use of landmines and the pure destruction they leave behind.
The war is finally over. Clink, clink, click...the large intimidating tanks roll out into the distant sunset. Soldiers hidden beneath large dark guns with foreign faces slowly disappear, treaties are signed, and what was once a small rural village seeped in tradition is now a boarded-up ghost town. It has become desolate, dusty, and uninhabitable. A gray cloud looms overhead. Abandoned tanks, shell casing and out-of-order weapons lie discarded on both sides of the sandy road leading in to this war-torn village. Surrounded by cracked concrete, broken windows, and dilapidated buildings stand the faces of what was left behind - the local people. The villagers, although overwhelmed with grief and despair try to begin to rebuild. Trucks are brought in to remove the rubble blocking the impassable streets. The dead are buried in makeshift graves. Wooden crosses are made and tears are shed. The smell of death is still in the air, but seems to be fading with every day. If you can listen past the moaning widow's cry you can hear children begin to laugh and emerge from hiding.
The war is finally over. Clink, clink, click...the large intimidating tanks roll out into the distant sunset. Soldiers hidden beneath large dark guns with foreign faces slowly disappear, treaties are signed, and what was once a small rural village seeped in tradition is now a boarded-up ghost town. It has become desolate, dusty, and uninhabitable. A gray cloud looms overhead. Abandoned tanks, shell casing and out-of-order weapons lie discarded on both sides of the sandy road leading in to this war-torn village. Surrounded by cracked concrete, broken windows, and dilapidated buildings stand the faces of what was left behind - the local people. The villagers, although overwhelmed with grief and despair try to begin to rebuild. Trucks are brought in to remove the rubble blocking the impassable streets. The dead are buried in makeshift graves. Wooden crosses are made and tears are shed. The smell of death is still in the air, but seems to be fading with every day. If you can listen past the moaning widow's cry you can hear children begin to laugh and emerge from hiding.