Bullets

Bullets. Funny thing with bullets trillions of them are fired every year hitting nothing only pushing air aside for a brief moment. Bullets are not birds that fly and have useful destination, say, catching insects. A bullet’s only purpose is hitting flesh and it is not very good at it, but if there are enough of them filling the air someone is bound to be hit. I saw a forest totally denuded by artillery shells and gun fire, trees looked as hells kitchen, yet when silence as it always will in a war, rabbits came out of their burrows feeding on grass. War is meaningless to animals, but noise disturb them and foxes seek shelter in ruins eating whatever they find, that might be a human eye or a torn off hand. If a soldier only fired his gun when he was sure to hit someone, I do not think munitions makers would be happy, and tell a soldier to shoot and use his rifle more.