There was a war. We were camped in the shelled ruins of a small town in farming country. I think it was here in California. The enemy was nearby, taking occasional pot shots at us. If we wandered out from among the buildings they would attack us but as long as we stayed in there they were content to just sit outside. I think this must have been a civil war, something political or religious. The enemy was just as American as we were. There was a long period of just sitting around, talking about our lives before the war, occasionally checking on the enemy's position, taking some shots, being shot at. And then this guy, who wasn't really part of the war, he was just an innocent civilian (who had some freedom to come and go), came wandering in to camp with a grenade. He's laughing and smiling as he tosses it into our camp. I yell out a warning and we all dive for cover in a panic, and the guy just stands there laughing. It's not a real grenade, it's a dud or a fake. So I tell him that, under wartime law, we could execute him for interfering with a military unit, but he's still laughing. We tell him to leave and he does.
Then the enemy attacks for a bit and we get more high-strung; sooner or later we're going to have to make a break for it, to resupply, and we're starting to get nervous. Then this guy shows back up with another grenade, and he's dancing around going "oooOOOOOOoooo, a grenade! ooooOOOOOOoo!" and we tell him to fuck off or we'll kill him, but he won't stop. And one of the other guys tells me to leave him alone, they know who this guy is, he's got some mental handicap and he doesn't really realize what he's doing. But the guy won't stop so I go over and knock him to the ground and he starts crying and babbling about how he's abused at home and he doesn't understand what's happening, why there's all this fighting. And I just say "Tell it to someone who gives a shit" and put one bullet through his head with my revolver.
I've been feeling really unpleasantly morbid for several days now....